The Rising Sons Motorcycle Club (37 page)

Gunner smiled and laid his head on Raven’s shoulder. She ran her fingers through his hair, soothing him. He knew he was tired, but in that moment, hearing about a vacation with Raven, he felt used up. It was all he wanted. Trask had vengeance and his family driving him on, but since standing up to the corrupt cop, Gunner’s adrenaline had washed out of his system.

He kissed her where her neck and shoulder met. “Are we done making calls?”

“Two more, then we’re done.”

Gunner nodded and slid down onto the plastic-coated table beside Raven. He laid his head in her lap and listened to her ring up the last two bikers. He didn’t care about the other people eating at the drive-in. He was too spent to keep up the hard biker persona. Maybe after a night of sleep he’d be ready to ride for Las Vegas, but until then, Gunner knew he was no good to the Rising Sons.

Faith tried the door for the hundredth time. It was locked, and it sounded pretty solid. She went over the facts. She was in a basement. She was locked in. She was hungry. That was where the facts ended.

She guessed that it was Monday, and she guessed that she was somewhere outside of Las Vegas, but they were nothing more than guesses.

The glass block let in a bit of light, but no details of the outside world. She had woken up with one hell of a headache an hour before, and since then, she hadn’t seen anyone. She sat on the cot and looked around. It was the only thing in the room, so the scan didn’t take long.

Faith let out a sigh. It wasn’t the first time she’d been swept up in Rising Sons business, but it was the first time she had been kidnapped.

As the manager of Los Bandoleros, she’d seen it all. Men had threatened her when her husband wasn’t around to hear it. Cops had pulled her over and harassed her. Women had come to her for money claiming to be sleeping with Bear. As always, she would sigh and shrug it off. It was part of the business. This time was different, though. She had been taken by force, and she had been taken from her husband’s side.

Faith believed her son was right—Vegas was out for revenge and after the group. Without seeing her attacker, she guessed that it was him and that he had taken her back to his home city. She didn’t really know what that meant. To her, he had been a decent young kid right until the moment he decided to turn against the Sons. Since then, all she knew of him was evil. He had run down her husband and attacked their life’s work. She wasn’t afraid for herself, but she was scared.

Faith was scared to be away from Bear. She could barely tear herself away for a night, even when Trask forced her to go home and get some sleep in something that was actually horizontal. When she slept at home away from Bear, she had nightmares. She woke screaming and drenched in sweat. Aside from showering and throwing on some different clothes, Faith got out of her home as quickly as possible. She thought the place was cold without Bear.

Her prison cell was cold, too. It was emotionally dead, yes, but the basement room was hovering somewhere around sixty degrees, and that was with the sun high in the sky. Faith had woken that morning shivering. The cot had no blanket or pillow, and her t-shirt hadn’t been enough to keep her warm.

She knew they’d be after the Sons’ money, whether it was Vegas or some rival gang. With the bar gone, the Sons were vulnerable. They could lose the territory in a hurry, but she didn’t think Vegas was after territory. He wanted to make sure the Sons were nothing but a group of biker enthusiasts, broke and without a leader. She sighed.

She stood up again. She had learned a thing or two in her twenty-some years as an ol’ lady. She was tougher than most, and she was smarter than most. The most important thing, she told herself, was that she was stronger than most.

The glass block was sealed well, and she was unable to pry up any of the caulking with her nails. She thought that even if she could get the blocks out, she wouldn’t be skinny enough to pull herself through. There was one outlet in the room, and her nail was strong enough to get the screw turning. She pulled off the panel, but couldn’t see anything on the other side. Not that she had expected to see anything.

The door was the last feature in the room. It was solid and thick. The knob turned, but the door didn’t budge when she pushed against it. She guessed that there was either a board across it, or it was padlocked on the other side. Faith knew a padlock would give with enough force. A board wouldn’t.

She turned back to the bed. Even if she could force the door, what then? She knew there’d be at least one man somewhere in the basement. There was probably only one way in or out. The first floor was teeming with bikers. She could hear their boots above her. Voices came through, but they were far too muffled to be understood. She couldn’t hear Vegas, but she was sure he’d be there.

Faith knew she’d have to wait but it didn’t take long at all. The voices got louder, and as she suspected, the sound of wood scraping across the door reached her seconds before it pulled outward. She sat upright as her heart raced.

There was a light far to the right down the hallway, but Faith couldn’t see any real features on the man. He stood in the doorway for a minute. She wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of begging or showing any fear. She could wait him out.

The man turned to his right and nodded, presumably up the stairs. He sighed and stepped inside. She looked him up and down, memorizing everything she could. Motorcycle boots, not that worn. Jeans. A sheath for a large knife was strapped to his right thigh. Tattoos up and down both arms. A Rolling Stones t-shirt. He was Hispanic, well-built, and if not for the cheesy mustache, he might have been handsome.

“Bathroom?” He had a thick accent.

She nodded. He gestured toward the doorway and she stood. The biker backed out and stood to the right. She stepped out and looked past him. A single uncovered bulb hung in the hallway, and next to it was the two-by-four that held the door snug. Beyond the bulb was a set of unfinished stairs that led up.

Faith knew there was no escape at present. She turned and saw a dim bathroom at the end of the short hallway. The smell hit her after the second step. She held her breath and stepped inside. When she turned around, the biker was right there outside the door. He reached in and flipped the switch on the wall, electrifying two lights over a filthy mirror and sink.

When she tried to push the door closed, his boot held it halfway open. “No, no. I no do that.” There was no emotion in his voice.

“Have some decency and respect for a woman.” Faith didn’t even want the stranger anywhere near her. She was repulsed by the fact that he wouldn’t let her close the door.

“Cracked. Final offer.” He stared at her. He wasn’t going to budge.

Faith closed the door as far as it would go. When there was just a sliver, she felt as comfortable as she was going to get.

After she flushed and opened the door, he stepped back and waved her back into the cell. She stood at the sink, washing her hands. The water was rusty brown, but she didn’t care. It gave her time outside the room, and she was going to try and get some information.

“You work for Vegas?” she asked with as casual a tone as she could muster.

“For Vegas? For the city? No, I no work for the city.” He was confused.

Faith nodded. So they were in Las Vegas. She didn’t know if Vegas himself was involved, though. He may have hired out the kidnapping. She turned off the sink. There was no towel, so she just flicked the water from her fingertips. She turned back to him.

“When do I get to see the boss? Whoever’s running the show?” She leaned against the doorframe. The biker did scare her, but she would be damned if he would be able to tell.

She could see the annoyance on his face. He was probably confused as to why she wasn’t scared or trembling. He waved her to her room. “Shut up. Get back in the room and shut up.”

As his right hand slid down closer to the knife, she put her hands up. “All right, sorry.” She stepped into the room, but stopped in the doorway. “I’m Faith. What’s your name?”

She didn’t see the shove coming. “Shut up!”

Faith lost her footing and fell to the hard concrete. She looked up in time to see the door slam closed. The wood barricading the other side slid back into place. She grabbed the cot and stood back up. She could already feel that a bruise would develop on her hip. She rubbed it and eased herself back down onto the bed.

Looking back up to the glass block window, Faith took in the new information. She was, indeed, located in Las Vegas. She didn’t see any affiliation tattoos, but that didn’t mean the Hispanic man didn’t have any. He didn’t seem to know who Vegas was, so there was some other figurehead.

Faith didn’t know anyone in Las Vegas, not that it mattered. Her cell phone was gone. She let out a long sigh. She had new information, sure, but there wasn’t much that she could do with it. She was still stuck underground somewhere in the Nevada desert. Not much to do but sit and wait for the Rising Sons to wipe this worthless scum off the earth.

The only good thing was the adrenaline was keeping her a bit warmer.

Faith napped, but the dark dreams returned. She woke with a start, her mind already forgetting the blackness as she heard the two-by-four being pulled from the door. Her heart raced, more from the dream than from the door. She sat up, feeling the soreness in her hip in full swing.

Running a hand through her hair, Faith did the best she could to put on a good show. The door pulled open. She expected the same man to appear, but she could tell right away from the light shining on the boots that it was not. These boots weren’t for riding motorcycles. They were for riding horses, spurs and all.

He stepped in. The man was older and rounder than the guard. He didn’t have any tattoos that were visible, but his arms were covered. He wore a cowboy shirt with a bolo tie. There was a confident smile on his face. The guard came in behind him and set up a folding chair, and the man sat down. The guard slipped out and closed the door, but Faith didn’t hear the two-by-four lock the door in place.

The dark-skinned man smiled at her. Looking around, he waved his arms. “I’m sorry about all of this.” There was a hint of an accent. Faith didn’t look around. Her stare was focused on him. He went on anyway. “I didn’t want to have to send someone to get you. It’s so… uncivilized. So for that, I apologize.”

“You must be Carlos Maldonado.” Faith didn’t care what the man thought was and was not civilized. She knew who this man was by his clothing. He was whoever Vegas hired to run the goon squad. This wasn’t a man who got his hands dirty often.

He paused and smiled at her. “My name is Carlos Maldonado,
sí
, and you are Faith Rivers, wife of Bear.”

Faith tilted her head. She made sure her words were cold and had a hint of anger in them. “Carlos, we can cut through the bullshit. I know why you dragged me kicking and screaming from a hospital room. I’m here so you can get a ransom.”

Carlos was taken aback. Like the guard, he probably expected Faith to be somewhat scared. Whatever happened between the hospital and Las Vegas, Faith was too tired to be scared.

“Uh, yes. That is the sum of things. We mean you no harm. Again, I regret that things came to this. Men were promised money, and they were unable to get that money. This is nothing more than business. You are a commodity.” The power began to return to his voice.

“They won’t pay.” Faith looked away.

Carlos chuckled to himself, “The mother of one president, the wife of another, and they won’t pay? Come now, you really think I’ll believe that?”

She looked back to him. “Believe this: they are on their way out here this very minute. They will be within Las Vegas limits by noon. They will not pay. Instead, they will come down on you harder than you can imagine. Execute your threat, and they will do far worse. If you hurt me, the Rising Sons will kill everyone you know, then torture you until you beg to be with your families in hell. Believe that. It’s nothing more than business for them, too.”

Faith brushed some hair from her face and waited to see what Carlos would say. He took in every word. Lives were on the line in a very real way.