Landon
From the first moment those two thugs drag me inside their shitty house, I try to start making an escape plan. At first, I’m not even sure they have Vivian. The house is dark and has obviously been abandoned for a long time.
It smells like rot. Like musty old leaves after they’ve been sitting in rainwater for weeks. Once, when I was a little kid, I stuck my nose into a moss-covered knot on a tree trunk. I’d forgotten all about that until now. Walking into the house is enough to make that memory come rushing back in full force.
When I see Vivian, it’s hard to keep from crying out. She looks terrible–her light brown hair is frizzed and tangled around her face, and there’s a hand-shaped bruise on one of her cheeks. Her eyes are tiny and round, like a doll’s, and her skin is deathly pale. It’s freezing inside the little house, and I wonder if these assholes keeping her here even know enough about starting and keeping a fire.
But I know I can’t show any emotion. Crying out her name is hardly in my best interest, but it’s impossible to see the woman I love in such poor condition. Her hands are bound, like mine. She’s sitting with her legs awkwardly splayed, and that’s when I notice her ankle. It’s so swollen that it’s larger than her calf. Her shoe seems painfully tight around the wound, and my heart aches. She’s being so brave. I can tell that she’s done a lot of crying, but other than that, the look in her eyes reminds me of a warrior princess.
The only good thing is that her clothes aren’t too mussed. I can tell Branden and Alan aren’t that interested in Vivian as a woman, which is pretty much the only sense of relief I’m getting from this whole predicament.
Still, I can’t be too affectionate. I have to make those thugs think that Vivian doesn’t mean very much to me. They know we’ve slept together, but if I can convince them that she’s just another pussy, they’re less likely to hurt her.
It’s hard to stick to my resolve when Vivian starts crying anew, though. She keeps whispering my name under her breath like a silent prayer. As I watch out of the corner of my eye, Vivian’s head droops forward and her chin rests against her chest. She’s sobbing quietly and her face is moonlike and puffy from all the swelling. More than anything else in the world, I want to break free of these ropes and pull her into my arms.
I have to wait, though. I have to wait until I have a plan formed in my mind. I know I’m going to save us both, but I just have to think of how to do it.
“Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?” I growl. The truth is, I’m not even mad. I’ve never thought about what it would mean to be a father, but with Vivian, I realize that anything is possible.
Vivian bursts into a new storm of tears. Watching her cry breaks my heart. I wish more than anything else that I could comfort her and remind her that she’s important and perfect and beautiful and special.
“Don’t cry,” I tell her.
Vivian just glares at me. “Why do you hate me?” Vivian whispers.
Before I can try to explain why I’m acting so distant, Alan and Branden come back into the room. Branden looks at Vivian and when he sees that she’s crying, he grins. It turns my stomach.
I want to rip this jerk apart limb from limb. He’s not even a man. He’s like a scared kid, getting high off bullying the smaller kids.
“So,” Branden says. “Did we have a nice reunion, y’all?”
I sigh and roll my eyes. “Come on,” I say loudly. “Get to the fucking point. We know that you want us for a good reason. What do you want? Money? Drugs?”
Branden crosses his arms over his chest. “Something more important,” he says slowly. He walks over to Vivian and squats down right in front of her. When he puts his hand on her lower belly, it makes me seethe with rage.
“I can’t feel a heartbeat yet,” Branden says mockingly. “Vivian, how far along are you?”
The nervous way Vivian shakes her head and laughs makes my head snap up. Suddenly, I start to wonder if she was telling the truth. Vivian’s a smart girl. The kind of girl who would try to think of a line to use in a dangerous situation to get herself out of trouble.
The kind of girl who’d lie about being pregnant if she thought it would make her kidnappers treat her a bit more gently.
I try to listen to every word, every intonation without giving the impression that I care at all.
“Um, I don’t know,” Vivian says shyly. She blushes and I want to cheer her on, but I know that I have to stay silent.
“Well, sugar, it ain’t that hard,” Branden sneers. He leans even closer to her face and I see Vivian crinkle up her eyes and wince, leaning out of the way. “When did you last get fucked?”
Vivian’s cheeks burn even brighter.
“I think I’m six weeks,” Vivian finally says in a small voice.
That confirms it. Six weeks ago, we weren’t in the hideout together. Six weeks ago, my life was normal. I was riding and fucking club whores and doing my thing.
“That’s pretty early,” Branden says. There’s a nasty gleam in his eye. “Maybe I oughta call a doctor. He can come over here and check you out.”
“Yeah, boss,” Alan chimes in. He walks over and looks down at Vivian. “We gotta make sure she’s okay.”
No, no, no, I think, shaking my head. All I can hope for is that they don’t actually know anyone with real medical expertise. The Helldogs are a rag-tag MC. They don’t even take good care of their cars and bikes. I have no reason to believe there’s an actual doctor around to help them get patched up. Based on the way Alan and Branden look, I’d be surprised if either one of them had ever seen a doctor in their lifetimes.
Branden strides out of the room. When I hear his voice, my heart sinks. I can only hear snatches and snippets of what he’s saying, but it doesn’t sound good. Something about a doctor, a cabin in the woods, and a pregnant girl who belongs to Blacktop Chaos.
Vivian’s eyes meet mine and I stare at her intently. I’m trying to tell her that it’s going to be okay, that she just needs to trust me. But based on her panicked expression, I can tell she’s not going to believe anything that I say.
When Branden comes back in the room, he’s obviously pleased with himself. He’s rubbing his hands together and cackling under his breath. Together, he and Alan throw some crudely chopped logs on the fire and throw a match on top. When the wood starts to burn, it fills the whole room with smoke and for a moment, the four of us are coughing in a rough unison.
“Did you tell him where we are?” Alan asks Branden, poking at the fire with another stick. “Did you say we’re at the hideout?”
“Yeah, I’m not a fuckin’ moron,” Branden says. “He knows where we are.” Branden throws a quick glance over his shoulder and I close my eyes just in time. Maybe if he thinks I’m asleep, he’ll let something important slip.
“Well, good,” Alan says. I watch him shiver. “This place gives me the creeps, man. I don’t wanna fuckin’ stay here anymore.”
“Well tough shit,” Branden snaps. “This is the place Sal bought, and this is the place we’re gonna use.”
I rack my brain, trying to think of where I’ve heard the name ‘Sal’ before. Big Hill isn’t a big metropolis. It’s more of a small city with a quaint, town-like feel. And while Sal is a common name, I’ve never come across a man with that name…especially a man in another MC.
My hands are fucking killing me. It feels like all of the blood has somehow drained out of my fingers–it’s way past pins and needles. When my hands brush together, it’s like touching something that died years ago. I shudder, trying to curl and uncurl my fingers in a weak attempt to get the blood flowing once more. It’s painful, but I grit my teeth and rub my hands together until the tingling feeling starts to come back.
Branden and Alan aren’t paying attention to me. They’re bickering over the fire. As I keep rubbing at my hands, I shift my legs on the floor. My ankles are bound tightly by complicated knots, but it shouldn’t be anything I can’t take care of…at least, as soon as my hands are free.
Groaning, I bite the inside of my lip and try to pull one of my hands free from the rope. The rope tears and drags across my skin, burning a line that feels white-hot. I try to relax my jaw and lean against the wall, rotating my shoulder in gentle motions. Whenever I move, my hands strain against the ropes. Soon, I can tell that I’ve loosened them significantly.
Thank god, I think, sneaking a quick look over at Vivian. She looks even worse than before–her lips are bloodless and her eyes are swollen from crying. When she catches me staring at her, she opens her eyes wide. I want to tell her not to say anything, but I don’t want to risk catching attention from Alan or Branden. Instead, I twist my lips into a sneer.
Vivian blinks quickly and looks away, obviously stung. I hate hurting her, but if this is the only way I can keep her safe until I’m on my feet and fighting these assholes, it’s what I have to do.
“So,” Branden says, waltzing across the room. “Here’s what’s gonna happen. Vivian, a doctor’s gonna come and take a look at you. Now, you better be tellin’ the fuckin’ truth because if you aren’t, you’re really gonna regret it.”
I can see fear flashing across Vivian’s face plain as day. It kills me to see that she’s scared, but I know that the fact she’s showing fear is helping Branden. He’s growing more confident by the second, and soon he’ll become careless with me, his less important hostage.
“What’s the doctor going to do?” Vivian says in a voice barely above a whisper. “Is he going to hurt me?”
“Not if you do exactly as he says,” Branden says in a nasty voice. “Now, you,” he says, turning to face me. I keep my arms as rigid as they were before with my back to the wall. If Branden sees that I’d managed to loosen the ropes, I’m a dead man.
“What about me?” I smirk. I’m still scared, but I know that I have to act one-hundred-and-ten percent cocky asshole. I have to make Branden think that I’m not taking him seriously.
“Shut the fuck up,” Branden says. He walks over and punches me square in the jaw. It’s not a very good punch. His fist is too limply curled to really be effective, but I let my head swivel out of the way and I groan for effect, spitting blood onto the floor.
“You were saying?” I gaze back up at Branden, not blinking.
This time, the punch is harder. I groan, running my tongue along my teeth. One of my front teeth is loose and I push it with the tip of my tongue, making pain bloom in my mouth like a small explosive device.
“Don’t you fuckin’ sass me,” Branden says. “I’ve got my hands full with you, you little boy. You think you’re so fuckin’ strong? You can’t even save yourself and this little girlie girl!” Branden starts laughing and the sound fills the big empty room, bouncing off the walls.
“Right,” I say, tossing my head to the side like it’s no big deal that I’m sitting here trussed up like a pig. “Well, what’s the doctor gonna have to say about me?”
“The fuck you mean?” Branden’s forehead twists and creases. “He ain’t gonna care, that’s what.”
I nod, pretending like I understand. MCs aren’t like the rest of the population when it comes to medical care. Any time bullets are involved, it’s out of the question to think about going to a hospital. They’d ask too many questions, and file too many reports. That’s why most clubs have doctors, or at least people with some rudimentary medical training.
“I’ll tell you what, boy,” Branden says, leaning in close. He’s even uglier when he’s angry. “You’re gonna shut the fuck up and do exactly as I say or else you’re gonna be cleaning girlie’s brains off the wall.” Branden smirks. “Oh, and baby’s brains, too,” he adds.
The threat makes my heart skip a beat but I roll my eyes. “Whatever,” I say. “You’re the one who’s sick, man. It’s like you’re obsessed with people who are better than you.” I smirk. “Blacktop Chaos is a real MC. We don’t just push drugs and sell women.”
Branden’s punch hurts, but it’s also satisfying because I know that I’m getting to him on a deeper level. He starts really whaling on me–punching my cheeks and jaw and chest until my lungs are aching and I can barely breathe.
I can hear Vivian shrieking in the corner and I desperately want her to stop. Some men might be comforted to hear their woman crying–they might take it as proof of her love. But not me. It kills me. It makes me want to rip through the ropes right now, wrap them around Branden’s neck, and strangle him.
Branden’s phone rings and he steps back, wiping the sweat from his brow. Now that he’s breathing hard, I can see how out of shape he really is. It makes me snicker. A simple beating would never be enough to tire out a member of Blacktop Chaos.
“Where the fuck are you?” Branden snarls into his phone. “We’ve been waiting for fuckin’ hours!”
Not very bright, are you, I think as I watch the ugly little man pace around the room. Alan is standing near the fireplace, watching us solemnly. I almost pity him. He’s obviously too stupid for fend for himself. But wondering how he got mixed up with someone like Branden is kind of a mystery.
“I told you,” Branden groans. I can’t hear the voice on the other end of the phone–just a series of tiny whirring noises that make me think of engines. “We’re in the woods.” He glares at me, then covers his hand and the mouthpiece. “We’re five miles off the fifty-third highway,” Branden says quietly. “Set your fuckin’ odometer and get to it.”
It’s hard not to smirk when Branden hangs up, but I manage to keep my face straight and calm.
Now I’ve got the upper hand. My wrists are almost free and I know exactly where we are. Five miles off fifty-third, I think, trying to sear the words across my brain. Five miles off fifty-third. Five miles off fifty-third.
Branden seems tired, like he’s worn himself out from all the yelling and punching. He slinks back over to Alan where the two of them begin to converse quietly. I’m not trying to listen. I don’t even care. I know everything that I need to know, and that’s what counts.
Vivian catches my eye as I’m rubbing my back against the wall, working at the ropes once more. Her expression is fearful, like a little kitten.
I wink at her. We’ve got this, I think as I stare into the eyes of the woman I love. We’re gonna be just fine, just you wait and see.