~ Tiffany ~
Four days later, Tiffany scrolled through the e-mail on her phone on the way home from her interview with the medical office. She left the poor prospect assigned to drive her in the vehicle. Walking up the sidewalk, she noticed something lying on the welcome mat. Pulling out her keys, she looked straight down and saw that it was a bird—a dead bird, to be exact. It looked bitten or crushed around the neck and was smeared with a bit of blood.
An image of Rupert the Magnificent flashed through her mind. He was the fat, yellow tabby her family had when she was a kid. Rupert had presented her with many such trophies when she was growing up. Her mother had pointed out that killing small birds and mice was his way of showing respect. Tiffany thought it was because he thought her too weak and stupid to hunt for herself, and the offering was more of an effort to feed her than anything else.
Kicking the disgusting dead bird aside into the flower bed, she hurried in and changed into casual clothing. Rushing back out, she carefully set the security system and locked the house before allowing her eyes to dart suspiciously around for a stray feline.
A loud honk blasted expectantly, reminding her of the prospect waiting to drive her to the hospital. Climbing into the backseat of his tricked-out 1966 Chevy Chevelle, she shoved aside the idea of potentially being adopted by a stray cat in favor of texting Ryder.
Tiffany: How’s Darkness?
Ryder: He woke up for a bit. He was in a lot of pain, and they gave him something for it.
Tiffany: You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?
Ryder: Fuck no. He’s tough as nails.
Staring down at his response, Tiffany bit her bottom lip. Ryder was a complicated man. Since Darkness was his club president, he had a moral and professional obligation to see to the man’s safety. Being the Sargent at Arms ensured that issues relating to the safety and security of his club brothers landed squarely in his lap. Darkness was also one of his closest friends. She knew seeing the man get shot right in front of him had left Ryder all kinds of messed up about it.
The only real question was if he was marginalizing the situation to keep her from worrying or to enable himself to remain calm and get through the hospital piece without tracking the shooter down. Instead of pressuring him, she opted for just being supportive.
Tiffany: Want me to bring you a burger?
Ryder: Nah, I got something on the way over.
Tiffany: See you in a bit handsome.
Ryder: Wait. They need you at the clubhouse.
Tiffany: Did someone get hurt?
Ryder: Don’t freak out, I’m meeting you there.
Tiffany: What the heck is going on?
Ryder: Tell you when I get there. Just don’t freak out until I arrive.
Tiffany: Sure thing, babe.
Tiffany felt her blood pressure skyrocketing as she put her phone away. He had to know that telling her not to freak out would have the exact opposite effect. Attempting to do as he said, she tried some deep breathing techniques followed by counting to ten—repeatedly—before finally giving up.
Fine, she’d just freak now and get it over with. Before she could get her head around the situation and tell mister prospect Cork to take her to the clubhouse, his phone buzzed. His ringtone sounded like a mad hornet or bumble bee. It was all kinds of weird.
He answered it on the first buzz. “Yeah, boss, I’m hearing ya loud and clear.” He listened for a second, then flipped the phone off and slid it back into his pocket. “Change of plans, Miss Tiffany.”
“I know. We’re heading to the clubhouse. Any idea why?”
Glancing nervously in his rearview mirror, he pulled off the road and turned the vehicle around. “They told me to tell you not to freak.”
Of course they did. Sometimes she wondered if the brothers operated on a hive mentality.
Slumping back in the seat, she was glad that she’d thought to stow a good-quality, first-aid bag at the clubhouse. It must have been some kind of five-alarm emergency if it required her to be repeatedly told not to freak. Her head filled with images of multiple gunshot wounds. Surely, they’d take them to the hospital if that were the case, right? Maybe there had been an accident of some sort.
Cork got her there in record time, grabbed the first-aid kit, and took her straight down into the basement—the basement that she never knew was there. A cold chill crept down her spine as they descended the concrete steps.
After hitting the bottom step, she understood why. It was set up like some kind of old-fashioned jail. There were two large rooms on either side with metal floor-to-ceiling bars and doors that swung on old, rusted hinges. No windows or any furniture, other than cots and a chair sitting almost in front of the door. One of the brothers she barely recognized was sitting in the chair with his massive arms crossed over his chest. She thought his name was Knife or something like that. Long, stringy brown hair hung down both sides of his face, barely covering scars on his cheeks.
Cork tapped him out. “Go take a break, Knave. I’ve got this.”
The man stood, towering over them for a brief moment before stalking up the steps. There was only one other person present, and she was ensconced safely behind bars. Looking her over, Tiffany decided she was pretty tough. The woman had long, red hair braided down her back and the most beautiful green eyes. Though she appeared to be in her mid-thirties, her clothing of worn leather bore no club affiliations. She clutched the bars with both hands, jerking on them with all her might.
“Let me the hell out of here. This is kidnapping. You can’t keep me here.”
Slamming his hand against the bars, Cork barked, “Shut your pie hole, if you want the nice nurse to have a look at your shoulder.”
Stepping back so he could open the door, she glared at him. “I wouldn’t have that bullet hole if your guy hadn’t shot me in the first place.”
Stalking over, Cork grabbed her by her good arm and slammed her down into a seated position on the bed. “You’re damn lucky we’re getting you some medical attention after you intentionally busted open your shoulder again, so shut the fuck up.”
Realizing she was in way over her head, Tiffany tried to reconcile her belief that the men she knew were good people, though they were holding this injured woman hostage in their basement cell. Jesus, for them to even have a room like this was evidence that they were totally off the chain. Who did they normally house in this cold, dark place? Did this woman really shoot Darkness? If so, why wasn’t she in jail? So many questions slammed through her mind, one right after another.
Pulling herself together, Tiffany’s shaking hands opened the first-aid bag, and she began pawing through the medical supplies. Taking out a sterile suture tray, she set it aside and pulled on a pair of gloves.
The overprotective biker eased back to give her space to work. Tiffany was on automatic pilot, as she slowly cut away the blood-soaked bandages covering the woman’s wound. Examining the back, she gave a sigh of relief when she found the exit wound had been properly sewn closed, as had the front. It looked as if a few of the stitches had been compromised and were beginning to bleed again, though. She dabbed at the area with an astringent and carefully repaired the three sutures. Then she went to work along the edges of the other stitches where blood was crusting.
Without warning, the woman leaned forward. “You’ve got to help me escape. They’re going to kill me,” she hissed, sending a fresh jolt of fear shooting through Tiffany’s body.
“Please sit back,” she murmured, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. Everything about this situation felt wrong. “I need to finish cleaning and bandaging your wound. You probably need a doctor, not a nurse.”
Shaking her head, the woman insisted, “I honestly don’t give a shit who drops a stitch in my shoulder. I got bigger fish to fry. You’ve got to help me.”
Ryder’s deep voice erupted behind them. “My pretty little nurse ain’t got to do nothin’ for you. You best get that through your thick skull.”
Jerking back slightly, the woman gasped. “She’s your old lady. Isn’t that freakin’ nice? You shoot me full of holes, and she stiches them shut again. Aren’t you two a fucking amazing team?”
“It was only one shot,” Ryder placated. “If I hadn’t shot you, then you would have killed Darkness. I caught you lying in wait, zooming him in on your sights. Are you honestly going to sit there and try to tell me I didn’t see what I saw?”
Clearly being less than honest, the woman answered quickly, “No, I was going to wing him. Darkness and I have a history. He knows I’d never kill him.”
“I was there, so I’m afraid I have to call bullshit on that one,” he drawled.
“What’s gonna happen to me?” the woman asked, her eyes wide, and if Tiffany wasn’t mistaken, a hint of trepidation lurked in their depths, despite the badass attitude she was throwing around.
“That’s for Darkness and the brothers to vote on,” Ryder informed her. “Maybe if he speaks for you, you’ll live. I have to admit that I don’t see that happening.”
“He took a bullet for me.”
“I ain’t figured that out yet, but I will.”
“It’ll be weeks before he’s fit to call a meeting. By then it’ll be too late.”
“You tired of eatin’ energy bars already? That’s real sad,” Ryder taunted. “But trust me, you’ll survive.”
“It ain’t about me.” Sitting back down, the woman snubbed back a tear.
“Don’t turn on the waterworks, bitch. I ain’t fallin’ for it.”
“I have a daughter. She’s just a baby,” she said, catching Tiffany’s attention. “If I don’t pick her up, they’ll call the state.”
“It’s already been four days.”
“It’s a special, extreme child care center that includes boarding. You can leave them overnight for three days. After that, they call the state for abandonment.”
Tiffany’s hand tightened on the woman’s arm.
Ryder bit out harshly, “You should have thought about that before you took this job sniping.”
“Please. If you want me to beg, I will,” she pleaded, sounding on the verge of doing exactly that.
“I don’t get off on your misery, you dumb bitch. I’m pissed that you tried to shoot my club president, and I want justice. You ain’t goin’ nowhere.” Turning his back, Ryder headed for the cell door.
“If you won’t do it for me, do it for Darkness.”
Practically freezing mid-step, Ryder slowly turned around, and if looks could kill, the woman would be dead. Tiffany was glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of his anger.
Ryder took a couple of steps back in her direction before he spoke. “If Darkness had a kid, I’d know about it.”
Hanging her head, the now defeated woman sighed. “He doesn’t know. I didn’t want my baby around club shit.”
“The way I heard it from Devil, there was a choice to be made, and you picked him over Darkness. Sure it ain’t his kid?”
Tiffany had never seen an emptier look in someone’s eyes before, and she wasn’t sure if it was there because of her feelings for this guy called Devil…or Darkness.
“Devil doesn’t give a shit about me. He’s got an old lady. The big thrill for Devil was depriving Darkness of me.”
“Seems like a lot of trouble solely to wreck cupid’s arrow, doll,” Ryder said with a heavy dose of irritation in his tone.
Shrugging, the woman winced from the pain in her damaged shoulder. “His club uses me to mule drugs and guns back and forth over the state line. I’m fast, smart, and can usually talk my way out of a vehicle search if I get pulled over.”
Tiffany’s eyebrows rose. The things she was hearing and seeing today…
Closing the distance between them, Ryder stooped down to look her in the face. “And best of all, you’re expendable.”
Letting out a stuttering breath, the woman nodded. “Please just pick up my baby and bring her to me. We can sort it all out when Darkness gets out of the hospital. We can’t take a chance on Devil and his men going through my belongings. They might discover childcare receipts or other documentation to lead them to my child.”
Leaning forward until he was nearly touching noses with the clearly terrified woman, Ryder spoke in a calm, but deadly voice. “If you are lying to me, I’ll gun you down where you stand without a second thought. If you try to run, I’ll kill you. If you try to harm any of us, I’ll nail your dumb ass quicker than you can blink. If you even think of double crossing me, I promise to hunt you down and make sure it’s the last stupid decision you ever make. In fact, you’re going to have to work pretty damn hard to stay alive under my watch.”
Bowing her head, she nodded quickly. “I understand. Whatever you say, I’ll do. God knows I’m used to following orders.”
Turning to Tiffany, Ryder studied her briefly before speaking. “Patch her up and clean her up. I’ll be in the bar.”
Tiffany nodded, relieved this deadly little heart-to-heart was finally over. “Okay. You’re making the right choice here, babe.”
Reaching over, he cupped the back of her neck and dragged her forward for a brief kiss. Pulling back, he murmured, “Don’t ever trust this bitch. She’s nothing but trouble. Also, I didn’t ask for or need your approval on club business. Remember that, princess.”
Stunned by his bland, but perfectly reasonable take on the situation, Tiffany nodded.
Before Ryder could stand, she smoothed the last bandage into place, grabbed the woman’s hand, and pulled her toward the door.
Ryder’s voice floated on the air behind them. “Don’t be long, babe. I’m itching to get started on this one.”
Throwing her hand up over her shoulder, Tiffany gave him a little wave. “Come on, before he changes his mind.” Climbing the steps and leading the way to the private rooms upstairs, she opened the door to a private bath. “You can clean up here. I’ll get you something to wear.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s your name?” Tiffany asked.
“Abigail Fucking Andrews, according to my Darkness,” the woman replied smartly.
Tossing her a little smirk, Tiffany gave the woman a gentle shove into the room. “That sounds like our illustrious leader. Nice to meet you, Abigail Fucking Andrews. I’m Tiffany Stone.”
“You can call me Abby. Just don’t ask me for advice, ‘cause I tend to go a bit mental.” She made a little hand motion beside her head, rolling her eyes and twisting her features in demonstration.
Trying not to laugh, Tiffany responded playfully, “Then you’re perfect for Darkness. He’s a bit mental most of the time.”
Sobering, Abby said, “Girl, you’ve got no idea.”
Hearing Ryder’s impatient voice rushing them from below, Tiffany whispered, “Get clean quick. I’ll be right back.” Running down the hall to Ryder’s room, she pulled out some clothing she left for emergencies and raced back down to the bathroom.
Along the way, it occurred to Tiffany that she hadn’t had time to fully process the evening’s events. Maybe sometime in the near future, she’d take time for the nervous breakdown she so richly deserved.