Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2) (22 page)

Caroline did her best to resist but there was little she could do to keep him from shoving the pills in her mouth. He held her mouth shut, her head screamed at the added pressure. Finally, she swallowed.

“Good girl.”

<#<#<#<#

Caroline had never really understood the draw of hard drugs. She'd smoked her share of pot, it was nice, and, of course, drinking was always a good time, but anything more and the risks outweighed any benefits she could see.

But now she was starting to understand why people got high. She'd been unsure of what to expect with Binky, but what was happening was something very much like floating. It wasn't like being in the water, it was more like being in the sky. She didn't even care that she was tied to a chair, because her mind was far far away. It occurred to her that it would have been merciful of Jake to dose her before he'd started in on the branding, but that would have defeated the purpose.

Idly Caroline wondered what had happened to Amelia and Jillian. Were they high, or were they gone? Did it matter? Everyone was gone. Buster was gone. Buster. The mere thought of him made her entire body cramp. Her heart was sore. She could feel it with every beat, or maybe that was the drug. Either way, it didn't matter. He was gone. If he wasn't, he'd have been here by now, and she'd be high on him and not whatever Jake had forced down her throat.

It had only been a few minutes since he'd left the room. Or had it been hours? Days? Suddenly she had a thirst so intense it made a whimper escape her parched lips. Caroline tried to call out without giving it too much thought, but she couldn't find her voice.

Panic dug claws into her, pierced the skin and drew blood. Blood. So much blood. No matter how much she tried to tell herself it wasn't real, it was the drugs, it didn't matter. The pain that had ebbed away was back now with a vengeance.

Darkness edged her vision again. Caroline didn't bother to fight it, she let it take her over. The last thing she could remember thinking was that soon, she'd be with Buster once again.

Chapter Nineteen

“Blow the fucking wall already, Train. Stop showboating.” Buster's patience had been gone for a while, but he'd bitten his tongue. He didn't want to rush Train. One wrong move and the whole fucking place could come down on them.

The tension that Buster had feared would destroy them earlier had abated now that they were all focused on one thing. Getting out of the building alive. They'd found the second door hidden in a closet in one of the offices, but it, too, was made of reinforced steel and locked from the outside.

“How does he know how to do that?” Manuel asked.

“Who knows with him?” Buster had to smile. “He could have read a book about it once or researched it online. Train retains information really well.”

“How smart is he?”

“Smarter than the two of us combined,” Buster replied without doubt. “He should be working for NASA or some shit.”

“I hope he can pull this off. I'm no rocket scientist, but if that wall comes down wrong, knocks out the supports, this place is going to come down. Right? That's not even mentioning if he used too much explosive.”

“Right.” Buster couldn't deny it. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that they were rolling the dice pretty hard on Train being able to do what he said. “He'll do what he says. It's who he is.”

“Hope you're right about that.”

Even with the faith he had in Train, Buster didn't remain any closer to the blast site than he had to. Only Train would be right there; he'd sent Einstein and Caesar back with everyone else. If it didn't work, he'd be the first one killed.

“Fire in the hole!” Train shouted. The explosion that followed rocked the building. Buster was reminded of the old abandoned church, but this time, nothing collapsed. Train threw his head back and laughed. “Told you that I could do it.”

No one wanted to remain in the warehouse any longer than they had to. Danny already had his phone to his ear. “No answer on Amelia's cell.”

Buster took out his phone, dialed Caroline's number, and the phone went directly to voice mail. “Caroline's phone is off.” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. They'd been stuck in the warehouse for almost four hours, an eternity, really. “We need to get back.”

“We're with you,” Manuel spoke up.

They'd parked several blocks away from the warehouse not to be detected, but when they arrived at the spot, the bikes were gone. The SUVs that Manuel and his guys had arrived in were parked across the street.

Buster considered it a stroke of luck that they hadn't been touched. Considering their luck as of late, he wasn't sure that it was a good thing. “Wait,” he called out. “They could be rigged.”

“Everyone move back a little.” Manuel chuckled, pulled a key ring from his pocket. “That's the beauty of remote start.” He pressed a button; one truck roared to life and the lights came on. “One down. Who's got the other key?”

Einstein cleared his throat. “DB was driving, Boss.” They hadn't found DB, even after the quick sweep of the front of the building on the way out of Dodge. “Gonna have to hot-wire it, but if it's rigged, the attempt is essentially a suicide mission.”

“Fuck this, I'll do it,” Ace spoke up. “Should only take me a minute either way.”

Buster didn't realize that he'd held his breath until the engine started. He took a deep breath. “What are we waiting for? Let's go.”

<#<#<#<#

They parked the trucks a few blocks from the bar, walked the quiet streets. There were only a few houses with the lights on. The lights of the bar weren't on, but the street light overhead gave a good view of the line of bikes, their bikes, just outside the door. There was no sign of the hang-arounds or any sign of life in general.

Buster's first instinct was to run towards the bar, but he didn't. Instead, he cleared his throat. “We need to go in from both sides, cover both doors. Got to assume that the guards are dead.” They'd been barely more than kids. All married. Two with children. And he couldn't let himself think about the fact that Caroline had been in that building.

“They could all be dead.” Danny exhaled deeply. “I don't give a fuck how we go in, but we need to do it now. My old lady is in there.”

“Let's stop talking and start moving,” Manuel suggested. “I'll go around back. Who's with me?”

“I'm taking the front.” Buster forced his mind to clear, though it was no easy feat. He needed to be focused for this. “Danny, you're with me.”

As they approached the bar, the evidence of a shootout became clear. There were several blood pools but no sign of bodies. If Buster had to guess, he'd say that the hang-arounds had been ambushed. It looked like they'd put up a decent fight, though, that was something. The front door swung open at the slightest touch.

Buster was the first through the door. He had Danny right on his back, Einstein, Monroe and Bones were not far behind. The sound of voices carried from the basement, and the floorboards on the second floor creaked. Buster heard voices as he stepped inside, knew that they were coming from the basement. There was also the sound of movement on the second floor. He motioned for the men to hold until Manuel, Train, Ace and Caesar came through the door from the kitchen.

The floor creaked again. Train looked up with a frown. He motioned towards the stairs, and Manuel nodded. Once again they split up. Buster moved to be first through the door, but Monroe stopped him, motioned that he'd go first.

Buster didn't care who went first. He just wanted whoever was in that room out. That room belonged to Nightshade; it had been called the chapel when Buster patched in, but over the years it simply became the room. It was where they made most of the decisions, welcomed new members, and above all, it was always a safe place for them, just like the bar. Now both had been invaded and disrespected.

Monroe threw the door open and fired immediately. Someone in the room shouted, and return fire rang out. “Get away from her.”

Her. Buster's heart clenched in his chest, and he surged forward, sure that he was going to see Caroline in the room. It wasn't Caroline. It took a moment to recognize the woman spread out on the table as Jillian with all the blood and bruising.

“Jesus Christ.” Buster exhaled the word. There had been two men in the room. Neither was wearing pants, so it became obvious exactly what they'd been doing.

There was no time to dwell on it, as the sound of gunfire came from upstairs. “Go. I've got her.” Monroe took off his cut and pulled off his tee shirt. “Jillian, it's James. I'm here to help you.” Her only response was a small mewling sound, like a wounded animal.

Buster was up the stairs before he could hear what happened next. Jillian was alive, even though she might not wish she was, which meant that it was entirely possible Caroline was still alive and that she'd met the same fate.

The shooting had stopped by the time he got to the second floor. There was only chaos and carnage. “Amelia's up here, Boss. She's hurt. Shot,” Bones called out.

“Any sign of Caroline?” Buster asked. Bones shook his head.

“She's not up here, Buster.” Manuel slid his phone into his pocket. “I've called Maggie. We're going to take Amelia to her, try and keep this as low-key as possible. We got four dead up here.”

“Two downstairs,” Buster replied. Six men. It had taken six men to take down the bar. Only six men. “Any sign of Jake?”

“Nope. We've been through every room up here,” Ace replied. “No sign of Jillian, either.”

“She's downstairs. She was in the room,” Buster told him. He grabbed the man's arm as he went to rush down the stairs. “Monroe is with her. She's hurt.” He didn't know a delicate way to say the rest, so he just said it. “She's beaten up pretty bad and she's been raped, Ace.” Ace jerked his arm out of Buster's grasp and took off down the stairs two at a time. “Bones, go with him. Make sure he's got whatever he needs.”

“What do you need?” Train came over to where they stood, still wiping blood off of his knife. Actually, we've got five dead up up here. There was someone in my room.”

“Get the bodies together. We've got to get rid of 'em.” Buster forced himself to focus on the business of cleaning up the bar and not the fact that there was no sign of Caroline. Where the hell was she? There was so much blood. So much to clean up. Too much. “You're not going to like the next part, Train.” None of them were going to like the next part. “We're never going to be able to get this place cleaned up, not so that the crime scene investigators can't find any trace of what happened here.”

“Are you saying what I think that you're saying, Buster?”

“I know, this is more than just the bar to you, Train. It's your home, and I'm sorry, but I don't see any choice in it. We can vote it.”

“No. I get it.” For a moment Train had no expression at all, and then he smiled widely. “I'll go and get the C4.”

“You do that.” Buster looked around. “All these rooms have been cleared?”

“We cleared up here, the kitchen and the bathroom.” Train replied. “You guys got the basement and the bar.”

The office. No one had checked the office. It was the last place in the bar that Caroline, or her body, could be. Buster had to consider that he wasn't going to rescue her so much as recover her. He was going to have to bury the woman that he loved, and the circumstances wouldn't allow for anything near what she deserved.

Buster didn't say a word, he just turned and walked down the stairs. He'd never felt what he experienced in the mere seconds it took to walk over to the office, open the door and step inside. The lights were off. He turned them on, and his eyes focused on Caroline.

She was bound to a chair with duct tape. Her inner arms were exposed and one was covered with burns. “Caroline.” He moved forward.

“Stop right there. Not another step or I put one through her head.” Jake stepped out of the bathroom. “Hello, Buster. I was rather hoping that you were dead already.”

“No such luck,” Buster replied. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

“Only what I had to,” Jake replied.

“I'm going to kill you,” Buster told him. He didn't need the details of what he'd done; it only took for him to look over at Caroline.

“No. You're not.” Jake smiled. “Lose the gun or guns. You know what, just to be on the safe side, lose everything that you could use to try and kill me. The key word is try. Now, I'm not known for my patience, so here's what's going to happen. You're going to get online, transfer everything in your bank accounts to mine. If you do that, I'll let you and Caroline live.”

“How do you know about the money?”

“I have my ways.” Jake chuckled. “I've always wanted to say that. And what part of 'lose the weapons' did you not understand?”

Buster didn't want to put down the gun, but he believed that if he didn't, Jake would end Caroline's life. He couldn't have that. Besides, he didn't need a weapon to kill Jake. It would be significantly more satisfying to take his life with his bare hands. He set his gun down. Caroline stirred on the chair, mumbled something, and he noticed the sweat pouring off of her.

With Jake holding the gun, it was a risk to go at him, but Buster figured every second that he let the man breathe was one big risk. The time for reasoning was over. The time for waiting had passed. Now was the time for him to act.

“Good boy.” Jake chuckled. “Now, come around here and start the transfer. I'll write the number down for you. Remember, one wrong move and you're a dead man, but I'll kill Caroline first.”

Buster nodded. He was sure that they were both dead either way. He wasn't sure exactly why no one had come into the office, probably they were clearing whatever they needed out of the bar. It was hard to walk past Caroline without checking on her, but he needed to focus.

The desk, her desk, was as neat as usual. The computer was on, and Buster saw his bank's homepage up on the screen. Jake certainly had done his research. “You gonna write it down on what?” he asked, and his eyes focused on the heavy metal stapler Caroline had insisted she needed when she'd apologized for spending fifty dollars on it, as if he'd give a shit what she spent on a stapler.

Jake kept the gun in one hand, picked up the pen with the other and started to write down a number.

There wasn't going to be a better chance to get the upper hand. In one swift motion, Buster picked up the stapler and swung as hard as he could swing. There was a sharp crack when it connected with the side of Jake's head. The gun went off, probably from a reflective curling of his fingers on the impact, and the bullet tore through the door.

The first blow was probably enough to kill him, but Buster didn't stop swinging the stapler until he was covered in blood and Jake's head looked more like a smashed, and bloody, pumpkin. He dropped the stapler to the floor, rose to his feet and turned to the woman he loved.

“Caroline. Caroline.” He touched her shoulder and her face, but there was no response. Buster fumbled for the knife he kept on his belt, cut the duct tape that bound wrist and elbow to the arm of the chair. She'd been tied tightly; her hands had started to turn blue from lack of circulation. “Caroline.” She didn't stir until he started to massage her hands, and then she screamed. “Caroline. It's okay. It's me.”

She continued to scream; the veins in her neck bulged from the intensity of it. Her arms flailed out. Once she realized they were free, she tried to get up and run, but he hadn't untied her feet yet. Shit. Buster managed to catch her before she fell. “Easy, it's me. He's dead. You're safe.” His words didn't bring her any calm. If anything, she began to fight harder.