Kidnapped!
Of all the fucking things to happen on top of Whisper’s abduction—Miss C had to go get herself into some deep shit while at a lunch date with another old lady named Pearllene. I thought Miss C was feisty, but Pearllene is a woman with ‘tude and she ain’t afraid to swing it in the air.
What could possibly go wrong with two old ladies at lunch? Too fucking much.
I arrived on Miss C’s doorstep expecting to surprise her then get her packed for Alaska, and then we would be on a flight bound for Anchorage and I would be back with Whisper.
Easy.
Not so much.
Instead I got Lenny and no Miss C. He should have locked Miss C down when she decided to do a runner on him; the man is too much of a gentleman.
Would’ve saved me a whole lot of murder and mayhem.
I’m tired and I just want to get back to Anchorage without anymore drama and see my girl. Miss C and I are about to leave Pearllene’s home in New Orleans, after a night I would rather forget. She’s been attended to by a nurse, who happens to be the girlfriend (bats for the same team) of Carissa (the grandkid of Pearllene), not that there is anything wrong with that—each to their own, no judgement from me.
This female happens to be a good enough nurse to make the call on giving Miss C the thumbs up or at least enough of an okay to put her on the back of my bike, after a kidnapping dramalama and granny-bashing day. That—or Miss C was fucking with me when she said she had the all clear—which was more like it.
Fuck-it-all-to-hell.
I have yet to hear about the whole saga. I was saving that for the long flight back, because the need was greater to get Miss C and Pearllene medical attention and out of the hornet’s nest, with the aid of Mortician, the enforcer for the Death Dwellers MC.
Yup! What a fucking day.
When Mortician and I collided (which is a story for another day), you might say the fuckers who fucked with what was ours (Pearllene, who is Mortician’s grandmother-in-law) ended up on the bad side of the enforcers’ revenge.
Case closed.
Motherfuckers buried.
I’ve finalized the booking for the next available chartered private jet out of New Orleans on my cell: in luxury class, non-smoking, no pets, no golf bag—fuck’s sake! All I needed was a private, comfortable flight for Miss C to try and get some rest and a bunch of healthy food snacks and drinks waiting for me to dish out if Miss C needed anything during the flight. No expense spared to get back to Whisper.
We’ve said our good-byes and head out to my bike, with Miss C dressed warm in borrowed clothes from Miss Pearllene.
The short ride had me a whole lot curious about what-the-fuck had gone down?
With no time to spare on road rules, I may have broken the speed limit in places getting us to the airport. I wanted back in Anchorage ASAP.
I roll into the car lot and park. Time to ditch the bike; it’s replaceable.
Without a word I help Miss C off my bike, she doesn’t look so good, but I don’t say anything. I would only be insulting her after the past day and night that she’s had. She’s earned looking the way she does.
I take my cut off and bag it, making sure I haven’t any items of clothing on with blood on them, because the way Miss C looks, I don’t want any security called in to hold us up, or be denied getting on the flight. I had previously cleaned up at Pearllene’s and made sure I looked respectable and not involved in a couple of murders, but Miss C can’t hide her bruises.
I work on the bike plates next, taking them off and stuffing them into my bag along with the contents of my saddlebags.
Finished I stand facing Miss C. “You ready for a flight to Anchorage?”
“Nothing would please me more,” Miss C replies, sounding a little too up beat.
I watch her stiffly walk ahead, making the statement to me that she ain’t gonna be left behind; just because she’s had a rough day. I know she wants me to think she’s not hurting, but I can see it in her gait. Tough old lady!
“Just a second, Miss C,” I call out to her, halting her determined stride.
I spotted a Dumpster over to my left and head for it, making sure no security cameras are trained on it. The gun I confiscated from Lenny at Miss C’s place, while he was attempting to babysit her—which was never gonna happen in the first place—I ditch in the Dumpster, along with the knife, after cleaning my prints off them. There can’t be any hold up in security.
I catch back up to Miss C, while checking the aircraft tail number on my phone, noting the battery is down to one percent, and usher Miss C with a gentle hand on her bent elbow towards the FBO (fixed base operator).
I hold one finger up to Miss C, requesting a moment as I come to a standstill. I need to call Joel.
One ring and he picks up. “Yo, Joel, phone’s about to go dead, so listen up. I should be in Anchorage in approximately nine hours; Miss C is doing well and I’ll explain when we get back to the printer place what went down. How’s Whis—”
The phone is snatched from me by Miss Catherine just as Joel starts hollering at me.
“Joel… Yes I’m fine… Well, um… it be hard to answer that question right now. I just need you to be promisin’ me that Boxer won’t be knowin’ about Edge comin’ to get me, until I be arrivin’ safe where he can be seein’ me for himself.” She listens a little longer, her wrinkles getting more wrinkles the way she is screwing her face up and one hand is landing on her hip, like she’s about to drop some sass.
“Listen up Joel, you don’t need to be callin’ a shit storm in when there be no bad weather in sight. Edge bent over backwards and sideways to be rescuin’ me from slime and don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he be favorin’ his arm. I know he been shot recently, he’s had no sleep and he should be right by Whisper’s side…but he ain’t.
“You be heedin’ my words, boy, I know Boxer and he won’t be takin’ too kindly to me bein’ kidnapped and bashed”—she holds the phone away from her ear for a few seconds, and then brings it back—“now you settle down my boy, would’ve been a whole lot worse if Edge hadn’t decided to leave Whisper and come and find me. I be dead; good and proper, with nobody to know where I be buried. Whisper don’t be needin’ me addin’ to her worries and nor does Boxer. Edge is bringin’ me to Alaska in style on a nice private jet so I be comfortable. He be payin’ a damn steep price for it too, so stop talkin’, keep your pretty mouth shut and I be seein’ you soon enough.” She comes up for air and hands the phone to me. “Joel wants to be speakin’ with you again.”
I go to talk, but the phone goes dead. Shit. Battery dusted. We continue walking.
Once inside the FBO I let the young blonde receptionist know the tail number and my name. She personally escorts us to the waiting jet and lets her worried eyes run over Miss C subtly and not so subtly over me. You can take the cut away from me, but it doesn’t dissolve the man in me away.
“Chile, don’t be lookin’ at me like that. I couldn’t be in better hands. I be havin’ a rough day—I be grantin’ you that assumption—but none of it be this man’s fault. It be a bizarre day, can’t be arguin’ with that, either, but this man be comin’ to my rescue.” With that she pats my arm, hits me with a very tired smile, and then turns her attention back to Blondie. “Now, I just be needin’ to get to my grandbaby in Alaska as soon as possible. I need a little rest and I’ll be good as new.”
After that speech, all the receptionist can do is look at me through a whole set of new lenses. I ignore her flirtatious looks and have to stop myself from rolling my eyes at her.
We arrive at the jet and all the introductions are made with Miss C feeling she needs to put me up on a pedestal again. She puts the pilots and the leggy, brunette, flight attendant at ease, before I can get her seated for takeoff.
I look over at Miss C and she’s already got her eyes shut, head resting at an angle in the comfortable leather seat. I’ll tilt her recliner back when I’ve got clearance.
Once I feel the wheels leave the runway, I know I can start to relax. Nothing can be done in the air, so I need to let my body rest, too and get a few hours of shut-eye.
Twenty-four hours is all I was willing to give Boxer—he got more—now it’s game on.
I’m through playing Mr. Nice Guy.
***
A town car was waiting for us when we touched down, and the trunk was filled with lots of bags of new clothing and toiletries that Miss Catherine had ordered. When you can afford to charter a private jet, many perks come with it.
Miss C got in five hours of sleep on the flight, which meant I got the same amount. Once she woke up, she was too wired from everything she’d been through in the past day to get more shut-eye.
I got to hear from the start how a lunch date managed to go so wrong. I personally think she needs a hired bodyguard in future to follow her around, when she next meets up with Miss Pearllene.
I call Hazard on the phone Miss Catherine still had in her handbag to let him know we’d landed.
“Where the fuck you been?” he hollers down the line at me. “You said you were going to get Miss Catherine, haven’t heard a peep from you and you’ve been gone longer than expected. Been fucking worried about you both… asswipe. And before you start hollerin’ back at me, Whisper’s safe and we’re all at Ghost’s place, but you need to get here pronto, because she’s gonna need you!” And then he disconnects.
What the fuck?
Thirty minutes later I’m storming through Ghost’s front door, ignoring the mudroom and dumping bags where-the-fuck-I-please. I’ve left Miss Catherine alone to fend for herself, as I stride purposefully through Ghost’s large home. I’m breathing heavily in the expectation I’m going to have to barrel my way past Boxer to get to Whisper. If I have to butt heads with the man, it’s gonna get ugly.
I enter the great room and note the couch where Jenny, the ragdoll, lays tossed aside. There’s a pillow and blanket. Whisper has been here. Some of my brothers are scattered about on the floor or in chairs.
“Edge!” Hazard calls out to me, but I keep moving.
“Hermano!” Lethal shouts, but I keep right on moving.
I see Drill coming down the stairs and I’m like a heat missile as I aim straight for him. “Where’s Whisper?” I feel like I’ve lost my mind ever since I found out she’s been moved. Irrational reaction I know, but the only way to appease the feelings I’m being consumed by is to see her for myself.
He’s holding his hands up while I head full steam for him. “Edge, man, slow the fuck down. Sara’s in Ghost’s bathroom. She just needs some space for a few minutes.”
Sara? Why is he calling her that name?
The caveman in me doesn’t want to listen to Drill’s words’, he just wants to club him over the head to get him out of the fucking way.
“Don’t you go givin’ me that look, Edge?” What look? A hand is planted firmly on my shoulder. “You need to slow that beating heart of yours right-the-fuck-down and take a moment to check yourself.” Like Drill needs to be giving me this speech. What the fuck? “Sara is up those stairs just using the bathroom, that’s all. Phoenix is ready to help her when she’s finished. How ‘bout we go sit down on the couch and wait for her. You can tell us all about what you’ve been up to?”
“Edge?” Fuck! Miss Catherine’s coming after me. I don’t need an intervention; I’ve got seconds to get past Drill. I’m a man who isn’t thinking straight. I have so much I want to say to Whisper. I want to see she’s all right with my own eyes.
“Where’s, Boxer and Doc?” I need to know where my other roadblock is.
“If you keep your voice down, they will stay asleep and you will get that time with her alone, before Boxer-the-grumpy-ass wakes up. You won’t have a shot when he’s awake if he’s got anything to say about it.” Fuck, what he’s got to say about it.
“Fuck’s sake, Drill!” I growl at him, I’m in no mood for this shit. I forcibly shove Drill to the side so I can thwump my way up the staircase, the noise smothered by the thick carpet. In Ghost’s house you wandered around in socks or bare foot. I didn’t need Boxer rising to cause me any delay, so I had kicked my one boot off somewhere in the house before I got to this point.
I’m rushing without thinking about what I will be walking in on. I barrel straight through the master bedroom and into the bathroom, where I nearly trip over Phoenix, who is on the floor behind Whisper. My girl’s head is resting on the arm she’s got laying on the toilet bowl.
“What’s wrong?” My eyes scan Whisper’s body. “Why is she on the hard floor? Is she hurt?”
“She’s doing okay, Edge.” Phoenix gives me a sheepish half-smile. “She just felt faint.” And I don’t believe a word of what she’s trying to serve me up, which does nothing to appease my fear of what-the-fuck-is-happening.
Hearing my voice and name, Whisper’s body language changes, she lifts her head and straightens her back. She doesn’t look at me as she wriggles a little away from Phoenix. I would go as far as to say she’s now wary of me.
I drop to my knees near the two women. I want to fold her into my arms, but I have no right to claim her like that—not yet.
“Whisper—look at me, sweetheart.” She doesn’t look at me. I sniff the air. There’s a smell in this bathroom. She’s been sick?
“Phoenix, you’ve got two seconds to tell me the truth about what’s going on here,” I rumble at her.
“I’ll give you one second and tell you it’s not my business, and if you want to get feisty about it, I’ll take you on and believe me, I’m not afraid to flatten you.” She moves protectively towards Whisper and inserts her body as best she can to shield her from me.
What the fuck? She’s protecting Whisper from me.
What.
The
Fuck?!
I look in the toilet bowl and see what I suspected to be true. I flush the toilet and change tactics.
“Babe, do you need me to get Doc and she can give you something to settle your stomach?”
“No… I’m fine… really, and my name is Sara,” she says without looking at me.
I let the name change slide. For whatever reason she’s hiding behind it again, but I want her to acknowledge me—look at me. I knew everything wasn’t going to be smooth sailing when we came face to face, but I hoped she could stomach looking at me. I hoped she would hear me out.
“Phoenix, can you please leave us alone? I can take it from here.
“I don’t think so, Edge. Not a good idea with Boxer—”
“Yeah, I get it.” I’m so over hearing that man’s name. “Boxer will have a flying fit, but Whis—I mean Sara can make that decision for herself.” I wait for Whisper to say something…anything.
I get nothing. So I pull out the only card I have up my sleeve.
“Babe, I just got back with Miss Catherine from Louisiana. I brought her here for you.”
Whisper visibly relaxes when I say the name of the woman she trusts beyond anybody in this room.
“Miss Catherine is here?” she says so quietly, like she doesn’t believe she is really here. “Could you please send her in?”
“Yes chile, I’m here.” I turn to see Miss C with one hand on the doorjamb holding herself steady. Fear for her granddaughter’s mental state is settled on her face, but she will erase it before Whisper sees it.
“Been standin’ here listenin’. Edge sure did come and get me from Louisiana to be bringin’ me especially here to be seein’ to you. May I be comin’ in the bathroom to be attendin’ to you? I hear you be in a sickly way.”
I don’t think the old lady registered the bandages on Whisper’s hands and feet until Whisper reaches out blindly for Miss Catherine, who doesn’t hesitate to come join us.
“I be thinkin’ there be some things, Edge, be forgettin’ to tell me,” she says holding back the annoyance in her voice, but aiming a stink-eye at me, which I ignore.
“Phoenix, we got this.” The tone of my voice has her getting to her feet on a resigned sigh.
“Sara?” Phoenix needs confirmation before she will leave us alone with her.
“It’s okay Phoenix. Thank you. I trust Miss Catherine.” I can hear the tears threatening to fall.
Fuck!
“Okay, honey, I’ll be downstairs in the den with the other guys if you need me, which I don’t expect you will now you have your Miss Catherine here.”
“Phoenix, could you be gettin’ the bags Edge and I be leavin’ downstairs and bring them into the bedroom, please?”
“I got them here.” Drill is on it. He was no doubt listening in, too. He walks in, drops the bags by my side and then leaves.
“Edge, be best you be leavin’ us women to our business. I expect Boxer and Evelyn are close by, might be best if you be clearin’ out downstairs while I be attendin’ to Whis—I mean Sara’s needs.” She’s asking me not to fight her on this.
I don’t want to leave her. I want her to see me.
“Edge?” Miss C is giving me a stern look.
I don’t want to leave.
“Sara?” Now I need confirmation from her that she wants me gone.
“Please—I’ll be fine with Miss Catherine. I need time. There are things...”
What things? The whole time she speaks she doesn’t look at me.
“I’ll wait downstairs, if you need me, I’ll be back here in a shot,” I tell her.
It’s hard to walk away but what did I expect? Of course there was gonna be a great expanse of bridge that needed to be trekked across. Instead, I’m half drowning in my emotion in the river below, trying to stay afloat.
My legs don’t take me any farther than the floor next to Ghost’s bed where I strip my leather jacket off and sit down with my back against the bed.
I tell myself that I need to stay close for Miss Catherine, because she’s not strong enough to lift Whisper and she sure as shit isn’t walking anywhere on her own two feet.