Gidget bided her time on the back roads to Sturgis. Getting too close to route twenty felt like a death sentence, a foreboding she could feel in the back of her throat. She asked a few gas station attendants what they thought was the best way back to Sturgis other than on twenty, and between them she cobbled together the best route. She missed her phone and its GPS more than she would have cared to admit, and she was thankful for the people who were willing to help her out; gas stations didn’t even have pay phones anymore.
The trip took hours, but it felt more like days. Every approaching vehicle or unexpected flash at the corner of her eyes seemed like it could be the Skulls. Night fell quickly, her only indicator of time. Was it eight o’clock already? She blinked against the rushing wind, focusing on the beam of light illuminating the highway cement. Every cell of her ached for Butch. She’d never regretted a rash emotional decision more than the time she fled the pharmacy.
Already, looking back on it made her cringe. Butch would understand—he just needed to hear her out. If he even wanted to talk to her after that. Gidget flooded herself with worries during the drive. Ample hours to let her mind turn into a monkey and just swing around, unchecked: Is Butch pissed? Will he even be in Sturgis? What if he’s waiting for me in Shreveport? Maybe more Skulls went to Shreveport and tracked him down. What if he gets hurt, because of me? What if he doesn’t want to help raise the baby? Probably you’ve imagined everything this past month and he’s not even half as serious as you are. You’ve gone off the deep end for a biker dude. AND you stole his bike.
By the time she reached her home county, the anxiety only doubled down. Now it was the time of reckoning. And even more critical that she fly under the radar. Part of her feared Skulls would be lined up two rows deep, ready to intersect everyone entering Sturgis in their efforts to find her and hunt her down. What did they even want with her? It seemed like a grudge gone on too long. A prize they’d once wanted for different reasons, and now only sought because it was habit.
It had to be nearing ten p.m. by the time she reached the familiar tree lines just outside of Sturgis. She slowed a bit, the knot in her stomach pushing bile up her throat. Everything felt like a mess. Not only was Butch god knows where, but her dad was probably pissed and scared on top of that. Will they blame Butch? Her stomach twisted. God dammit, why did she have to roll out of bed that morning and leave her cell phone?
Her mind wandered as she fell into the easy routine of navigating the Sturgis streets at night. Seemed like she’d been gone for way more than a month. She got distracted by the familiar sights, the bright blue house on Maple Street, the particular treacherous patch of pot holes on Elm. She was only a few miles from the clubhouse now. She took a deep breath of the night air as she crossed through the main drag. The fashion boutique sat unlit and shuttered.
She frowned. Would her boss ever take her back? She turned onto Main Street, thinking about how she’d go back in there, what excuses she’d use. How could life resume in Sturgis after what happened today? The danger that drove her and Butch out of town was still present. The Skulls had to be taken care of.
Of course Daddy’s working on it. She sighed, turning on the city route that led to the clubhouse. Outside the clubhouse property, the heavy gate was pulled shut, acting as a barrier between the outside world and Carver Headquarters. And for the better, since plenty of suspicious things went on behind those walls.
She paused on the bike outside of the gate, tapping in the code that unlocked it, heart throbbing as she waited for some sign of Butch. Her gut told her he was nowhere near. But maybe he is.
The heavy gate lurched into movement, recoiling slowly. She straddled the bike, walking it toward the ever-widening gap that led into the clubhouse parking lot. Nobody was outside that she could see, but the clubhouse windows were lit up. Home.
She grinned as she walked the bike through the threshold, eyes on the windows. Who would be in there? Maybe Zebra and the guys with the munchies, eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. She smiled at the thought.
Two pairs of hands grabbed her from behind, making a damp seal over her mouth and around her breasts. A scream ripped from her lungs, one that instantly made her throat raw, and she writhed and jerked away from the foreign intruders. By touch alone she knew this was a bad guy—probably a Skull—and she struggled to rip her head around to see who it was.
A bandana covered her eyes then, and she screamed again, as loudly as she could.
“Shhhh.” Hot breath appeared at her ear, the hand covering her mouth again. “Don’t scream, Gidget. You’ll like where you’re going.”
She recognized that voice. The Skull she’d stiffed at the bar. The one who’d been pursuing her now ever since that inglorious rejection. She twisted and tugged but the hands held her firm.
“You made it so easy for us,” another voice murmured, chillingly smooth. “To find where you were.”
Her voice came out a muffled whimper against the palm of the Skull. Terror streaked through her, making every nerve ending feel like it was on fire.
“Never thought Instagram would lead us to you,” the other one laughed. Someone grabbed her by the hips, lifting her off the bike. The motorcycle was turned off a moment later. She heard it thud to the ground as she was thrown over someone’s shoulder. She kicked and screamed, a shriek that tore through the night air. One of the Skulls swore.
“Get the fucking gag, wouldja?”
“She’s hard to pin down.”
Gidget attempted to knee the Skull in the chest. “Hellllllp!” She screamed it until her lungs went raw. “Somebody help me!”
A moment later she flew through the air, slammed to the ground against the concrete. Everything went black and bright behind her eyelids, stars blooming in the darkness. Her head lolled to the side, distantly aware of the continuing conversation.
“I didn’t know how else to shut her up.”
“Jesus, T, she’s bleeding.”
She mumbled something, trying to stand up. But her body wouldn’t obey the commands. Everything went sluggish and numb, like the nerve signals had to make their way through porridge first. Emotion clogged her throat, and in her mind’s eyes her hand went to her belly. I’m pregnant. Don’t hurt us. I’m pregnant.
But her mouth wouldn’t move. Things went black and gray and then black again.
“Get her legs.”
She was aware of some movement, like hoisting. Her head lolled backwards, hurting her neck. She tried to support it, lift her head up, but she couldn’t. Something warm trickled down the back of her neck, down the side of her face.
“Fuck, T.” Footsteps scuffed against cement. She wobbled from side to side, her body coasting through the air. They were carrying her.
She tried to speak again, but nothing happened. A scream was stuck in the back of her throat, her entire body paralyzed with wooziness, and the only thing that she could see in her mind’s eye was Butch.
***
Butch lifted his head when he heard footsteps scuffing closer outside the closet. It had to be Zebra. He’d been gone for hours—three to be exact, according to his phone, which he’d been checking compulsively, just in case Gidget tried to call.
She’s not gonna call.
He didn’t want to believe the dark whisper inside him. But it was hard not to see what happened that morning as rejection. If it looks like shit and smells like shit… He tried to push aside the thoughts as the door swung open. Zebra stared back at him, a tray in his hands.
“Oh look. Back to prison meals.” Butch leaned back in the chair. “Except in here I don’t get a bathroom.”
“You won’t be here much longer,” Zebra said with a sigh. “It’s just for now.” He handed over the tray, which had a still steaming microwave meal on it. Beef lasagna. Butch eyed it. Normally his favorite, but he wasn’t hungry while Gidget was missing.
“Any word from Gidget?”
“None.” Zebra set the tray on the ground when Butch didn’t take it. He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Phone’s been going to voicemail.”
“That’s because it’s dead.” Butch jerked his head toward the doorway. “It’s in my bag. I found it in the motel before Zane showed up. I’d been calling her non-stop too, but she didn’t have it on her when she ran.”
Zebra eyed him, like he was processing the story. “Any clue why she ran?”
Butch shook his head. “She’d been acting weird the past couple of days. I just figured she missed home.” He picked at the cuticle of his thumbnail. “Figured she’d come back here, to be honest.”
Zebra shook his head. “No dice.”
They were quiet for a moment. Butch stared at the TV dinner. “Zane show up?”
“Yeah, he’s back. Told us how you knocked him the fuck out.”
Butch squashed a grin. “Damn straight. He was in my way.”
“And you coulda done the same to Geo,” Zebra added. His tone was more like a brother again, less of the suspicion from when he’d first shown up. Maybe Zebra was warming up to him again, now that he could hear his side. Remembering why Butch was a good guy.
“I told you—” Butch began.
“I know. I know.” Zebra gnawed at the inside of his lip. “Just proves to me that you really are innocent, is all,” he added in a quiet voice.
Butch met his gaze and held it, staring hard. “So you believe me.”
Zebra looked away. “The whole thing still don’t make sense.”
“More for me than for you.” Butch sniffed, snatching up the tray. So maybe he’d pick at it a little bit. Get something in his stomach, since he hadn’t eaten since that morning. Worry and frustration killed his appetite. And wondering about Gidget made him a zombie.
“Just don’t make sense why you’d come back here if you were the snitch.” Zebra shook his head, studying a far corner of the closet.
“Because I’m not.” Butch forked some lasagna into his mouth, staring at the wall. He’d had plenty of time to think in here. And one thing rose above the rest. “You think the Skulls would be dumb enough to call and let you know that I was a snitch if I really had snitched?”
Zebra eyed him, silent.
“If they knew I’d been trailing Gidget, which they did because they’ve seen me and her around town here, then they knew I’d be with her in Louisiana.” He chewed thoughtfully and then swallowed. “I don’t know how they found out we were there, but they did. So it stands to reason they’d drive a wedge between the club and Gidget’s protector before going after her.” He dropped the tray to his floor after another bite, leaving the lasagna basically untouched. “That’s all I’m saying.”
Zebra rubbed at his face. “We’re figuring it out.”
A scream tore through the air. Something raw and primal, like someone being attacked. A shiver went through Butch’s shoulders. “Did you hear that?”
Zebra’s face creased with worry and he bolted to the small covered window that looked out over the front parking lot of the clubhouse. He swore. “I think that’s Gidget!”
Butch jolted to his feet, shoes hitting the pavement before he could even think. Arms pumping at his sides, he bolted around the garage and toward the front of the clubhouse, sticking to the brick walls bathed in shadows. He heard Zebra’s footsteps behind him.
Rounding the corner, he slowed, trying to make his clunky bootsteps softer as he assessed the situation. Yeah, that was Gidget all right. Her blonde hair splayed out as a man dressed in black hoisted her over his shoulder. Rage wrenched his insides, thighs twitching with desperation to get moving, get Gidget in his arms, get her out of this trouble.
“Those are Skulls,” Zebra whispered forcefully at his ear. “And you don’t have your piece.”
“Yeah, you assholes took it from me.” Butch’s heart pounded as he watched the two Skulls turn toward the front gate. They were half-shrouded in darkness, stepping in and out of shadows. “We have to stop them.”
“Wait.” Zebra yanked at his shoulders before he took off, grounding him. “You run out there now and you’ll get shot. They’ll shoot to kill, too. I know these fuckers.”
“Then give me your piece,” Butch said, desperation clawing at him. “They’re fucking leaving, Zebra. Come on.”
Zebra fumbled in his coat pocket, producing his Glock. He passed it to Butch. “I’ll follow with my knife. You just gotta get one without his piece and I’ll take care of the rest.”
Butch nodded, scanning the situation as the two men stumbled toward the gate like drunken idiots. No doubt they’d both be armed. Zebra wasn’t only right, he was saving all their lives. Barreling up on these two idiots unarmed would have gotten either him or Gidget, or both, killed.
“I’ll stick to the shadows around there,” Butch whispered, gesturing toward his path, the perimeter of the clubhouse walls that were bathed in shadow. “I’ll meet them when they cross the gates. Gonna knock the one out, steal his piece at least, and we’ll take it from there.”
Zebra nodded, fumbling with his phone as he typed out a message. “I’m letting Geo know now. Then we’ll have back up.”
Butch nodded, drawing one last deep breath before he pushed off and headed for the perimeter.