Through The Weeds (Nightshade MC Book 2) (21 page)

“Fuck.” Manuel swore and sent a desk chair across the room with a kick. “I'm tired of this motherfucker.”

“Hold on.” Ace spoke up. “I think that I've got something here.”

“What is it?” Buster demanded.

“It's a USB drive.” He picked up a silver pen from the floor. “Looks like a pen, right?” He twisted off the top. “It's not.”

“How did you know what that was?” Manuel demanded.

“Because I gave it to Jillian. She likes pens. I thought that she'd think it was cool.” He slid the pen into his pocket. “I need a computer to see what's on it. Need the bar for that, not like I can bring mine with me on the bike.”

“And that's one of the reasons why the truck was much more practical for tonight. Einstein, go get your gear.” Manuel looked around the room. “If that got left behind, there's got to be more here. Tear it apart.” They split up to cover more ground. Buster found evidence that drugs had been made there, but there was no sign of the drugs themselves.

“Check the other rooms. There's got to be something here.” Buster couldn't believe that the place was abandoned without any clue as to where The Wild Cards had taken off to. “Ace, get whatever is on that pen when he brings you the computer.”

“Boss?” Train spoke from the door. “We've got a fucking problem.”

“What kind of problem?” Buster turned to face him.

“The kind that goes tick tick boom,” Train replied grimly. “Come and see for yourself.”

Buster followed Train out of the room, into another and saw the problem right away. The bomb ticked off passing moments with an old-fashioned alarm clock. Once the hands hit a certain time, the explosion would no doubt be powerful enough to take out the building. “Can you tell when it's going to blow?”

“The alarm is set for half an hour from now. I've got to assume that's when it'll blow.” Train crouched down next to it. “There's a lot of C4 here, seems like a shame to waste it. I might be able to disarm it.”

“Don't blow yourself up,” Buster replied. “And don't lose track of time, we're out of here in twenty minutes just to be safe, with or without the explosives.”

“Got it, Boss.”

“I've got something!” Ace's voice carried from the other room. Buster walked in to find him grinning from ear to ear. “I've got everything that we'll need. “It's her fucking diary.” He let out a laugh.

“And how is that all the information we need?” Einstein scoffed. “How's a chick's diary going to help us?”

“Because this chick tends toward being paranoid,” Ace replied. “She makes note of people, places and things. There's addresses in here, phone numbers. It's a treasure fucking trove and the best chance we've got of finding these fuckers.”

“Run the addresses to see if any pop up as businesses or whatever. You know what, give me my computer back. I've got this.” Einstein moved forward.

“No,” Ace corrected. “I've got this. Appreciate you letting me use your shit, but this is me.”

“Fuck that. I know my system better than you do.”

“Einstein, let him do it.” Manuel spoke as tension rose in the air. They were all worked up, adrenaline with no outlet was a dangerous thing. It would be easy for things to boil over. Einstein didn't look like he was going to back down, but then he did.

The relief that Buster felt was short lived. Somewhere in the distance, a door slammed. He realized it was the front door. “DB was on the door.” There was a rush as they all headed to the location of the sound. When they got to the front door, it was indeed closed, and there was no sign of DB, which wasn't very encouraging, since his gun was on floor about three feet from where he would have been standing.

“Locked.” Train had reached the door first since the other room was closer. He kicked the door, directly at the lock level, several times, but it didn't even budge. “It's reinforced.”

They were trapped inside the warehouse. They'd found no other exit, yet there had to be some way in and out because they'd had eyes on the front door the entire time. “There's got to be another way out.” Buster spoke up. “And we need to find it quickly.” He filled everyone else in on the ticking bomb that Train had found.

Jake's plan for them was becoming clear, and he didn't like the picture. “There's got to be a second exit. Let's find it and fast,” Manuel suggested.

They looked for what seemed like an eternity. Each minute that ticked by sent the tension up another notch. At this rate, The Wild Cards weren't going to have to raise a finger to destroy both groups; they'd do it themselves.

“There's no other way out,” Caesar declared. “We need to take the door down.”

“What part of 'reinforced' is too complicated for you?” Train demanded.

“Fuck you, asshole. I don't hear you making any suggestions.”

“You're not making a suggestion. You're bitching. Time to put your big girl panties on, Cupcake.” Train grinned. “Because actually, I do have an idea but I'm not sure that anyone is going to like it.”

“What is it?” Manuel asked before Buster could speak.

“We try and blow out the back wall.” Train replied. “Use the shit that they left to take us out as our escape route. Finding the second door in the time we have left is going to be like finding the Holy Grail.”

“Can you do that?” Manuel asked.

“I can try. Not like anyone is going to be around to bitch at me if I screw it up.” Train smiled. He was enjoying this entirely too much.

Buster could only hope that Train knew what he was doing, otherwise they were likely to all die. “You do that. Everyone else, keep on looking. There's another way out. It's how they got out with us watching the place.”

“Unless someone on watch turned a blind eye,” Einstein spoke up. “How do we know that someone in this building isn't working with those fuckers? Don't look at me like that. One of their own already flipped.”

“How do we know that you haven't suddenly flipped?” Danny shot back.

“You trying to say something?” Einstein moved forward, even though Danny had a good four inches and sixty pounds on him.

“Einstein!” Manuel's voice boomed through the warehouse. “Stand down. Everyone, stand down. We're playing right into their hands. We tear each other apart, and we're out of his hair for good. Caesar, give Train a hand. The rest of you, keep on fucking looking.”

Chapter Eighteen

Caroline couldn't shake the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach as she looked out the window in the door of the bar. The outside was being guarded by three hang-arounds Buster told her she could trust. She should have felt safe, but it was impossible to feel safe without him there.

“See anything?”

“The hang-arounds seem on edge. I think they might have seen something.”

“Get back away from the door. Help me finish this. Trust me, we're going to be glad we've got stuff organized when they get back. You up for it? We're going to have to hope there's nothing too serious, because Maggie can't be here. She's got kids.” Amelia ran her hands over her stomach. “I can't even imagine it.”

Neither could Caroline, and she was glad for it. No matter what Buster said, how could she ever forget these dark days when things were good. The idea of having a child terrified her. “Well, we've got the internet and a can-do attitude. What could go wrong?” Immediately she regretted the words. So much could go wrong. “I'm going to drive myself nuts.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. I need a drink when we're done with this.” Amelia continued stacking bandages onto a rolling table. “Look around for more of that saline stuff.”

Caroline began to look. She heard the rumble of bikes and stopped short. “Did you hear that? It's them. I recognize the engines. They're back.” Hope rose inside of her. Maybe it was all over and the sky would suddenly be clear.

“They'd have called.” Amelia went perfectly still. “You still got the gun that Buster gave you?”

“It's upstairs.”

“Go and get it. Now. And get ready to use it.”

Caroline wanted to argue, but the sound of the engines  grew closer. She took the stairs two at a time. Her hands were shaking, but she got the gun from the drawer in the bedside table. She took extra clips, though if it came down to her needing more than one, it was probably not going to end well. She remembered there was a shotgun in the small closet, so she grabbed that, too.

She heard the shots outside before she was even back down the stairs. “What do we do?”

“Hope like hell that Drake and Sam are a better shot than Ivan was.” Amelia said grimly. She noticed the shotgun, raised an eyebrow. “You ever shot one of those before?”

“No.”

“Give it to me. You got extra clips?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” Amelia replied. “You ready for this?”

“Do I have a choice?” Caroline felt her heart speed up but her hands remained still. She was glad for that. “Those are their bikes, though, right? How did they get their bikes?”

“Don't think about that now. Fucking focus. This is going to be life or death, Caroline. Life or death.”

“I get it,” Caroline snapped. She wasn't stupid. The gravity of the situation hadn't escaped her especially with the stray bullets. “What do we do?”

“We wait. Hope that Drake and Sam take out most of them and get back in here in one piece. If they don't, hopefully they take out enough of them so that we can get the rest.” Amelia flipped over one of the tables for cover.

Caroline did the same. “They both have kids. Wives.” Her voice shook.

“We've all got something to lose. They made a choice. We all made a choice.” Amelia spoke in a low tone. The shots outside had stopped. The silence broke a moment later, when the front door flew open.

Caroline trained her gun at the door. She couldn't have been more surprised when Jillian came through the door, her hands up as if in surrender, but she didn't lower the gun. In fact, she took a deep breath and steadied herself. If she had to, in order to ensure her survival, she'd shoot her friend. She didn't want to, but she would.

Jake came in behind her, took two steps forward and pressed a gun to the side of Jillian's head. “Lower your weapons, ladies, or I'll blow her brains out.”

“That's not going to happen,” Amelia informed him. “What do you want?”

“I got what I want already. Nightshade is gone.” Jake grinned. “You figured that out already, right?”

Caroline felt her knees buckle, but somehow she remained on her feet. If Jake was telling the truth and Nightshade was gone, then Buster was gone. “I don't believe you.”

“It was simple, really simple. Not a big surprise because they weren't exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. I will admit that they had balls, though. They all went down fighting. Should I have brought the bodies along? Would that make you believe?”

“I'm starting to run out of reasons why I shouldn't shoot you where you stand.” Amelia's voice was strong,her face a mask. “What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“I want you to stop talking.” Jake pointed his gun at Amelia and shoved Jillian forward so that she fell on the floor.

Caroline held back the urge to help her friend. Now that Jillian was closer and she was able to get a better look, it was clear to see that she'd been beaten. Her face was bruised, there were cuts on both her cheeks, and tear stains.

“What do you want, Jake?” Caroline spoke up in an effort to divert Jake's attention from Amelia because she could tell that her friend was about to press him. The situation was already downhill; the only question now was how much further it could go.

“I want the money, Caroline.”

“Excuse me?” She feigned surprise, hope that it seemed genuine. Buster's money wasn't a well known fact.

“Do not play stupid with me.” Jake snapped the words. “I'm talking about Buster's money. Money that I know you have access to, so let's just skip the foreplay and get right to the good shit. You're going to get online, get into the accounts and transfer every penny to an account that I give you. If you refuse, one of your friends will pay the price.”

Cold fear spread through Caroline because she didn't have access to the accounts, not unless Buster was dead and there was a death certificate to show his lawyer. “You're wrong, Jake. I don't have access to anything.”

Jake sighed. “Just to be clear, I'm counting that as you refusing to help me.” He stepped forward and kicked Jillian in the side. There was an audible crack, and Jillian let out an inhuman scream. “Think I broke a rib. Wonder if I can break two the next time. Now, I'm going to ask you again. And before you think of simply trying to shoot me, I have seven men outside. The majority of them have spent time behind bars recently and, to put it simply, they're pretty horny. They have orders that if something happens to me, they get the three of you as a reward for their hard work thus far.”

Caroline looked down at Jillian. For a moment, she thought her friend was already dead, but then her chest moved ever so slightly. “The only way that I get to touch the money is if Buster is dead.”

“Trust me, Sweetheart. He's dead.”

“And his lawyer is going to want more than your word on that.” Caroline struggled to keep her tone low, her voice calm. Maybe if she kept talking to him, a miracle would happen and they'd get out of this alive. She looked over to Amelia, saw determination in her friend's eyes, but it was just the two of them against eight guys. The odds were fucking staggering.

Jake let out a frustrated groan, struck out at Jillian with his foot again. There was no crack this time; he'd kicked her in the stomach, so there was just a scream, and then she was doubled over on the floor. “I want to believe that you're telling me the truth, Caroline.”

“I am. Stop hurting her.” Caroline's wrist felt weak from the way she'd been holding the gun, but she kept it up. “Leave her alone.”

“I'm going to need to be sure that you're telling the truth.” Jake stepped back from Jillian. He whistled sharply. In seconds, there were the seven men he'd mentioned, and they were in the bar. “Split them up. Take that one upstairs.” He pointed to Caroline.

“Fuck that,” Amelia spoke out. Jake turned to her so quickly that Caroline barely had time to register what was happening. The sound of the shot in the enclosed room was deafening.

Caroline pulled the trigger without any hesitation. The bullet only grazed Jake's arm because of the way that her hands shook. Amelia was on the floor and there was blood, so much blood, but she couldn't tell where it was from. She was tackled from the side before she could get another shot.

The impact knocked the wind out of her. She gasped for breath, struggled to sit up, but the man was still on her. She felt his hand brush over her thigh before the other slammed her head into the floor. Everything went black.

<#<#<#<#

She was tied to her chair, in her office. Her legs and arms were held down by duct tape wound tight enough that they were numb. Caroline blinked at the light. It was bright. Too bright. She either had the worst migraine in the world or a concussion. Jake's face came into focus. He grinned. “Welcome back, Caroline.”

“I've got nothing different to say to you, Jake.” Her tongue felt too thick for her mouth. “Turn off the light.”

“Too bright for you? I can make it brighter. Hell, I can make it so bright that it'll burn your eyes out.”

“I can't access the money without the lawyer.” Caroline realized, no matter the threat, she wouldn't tell him if she could. She wouldn't give Buster's fortune to the man who had taken his life. The more time passed, the more she knew that he was gone. And she was pretty sure she'd be gone soon, too.

“So you keep saying.” Jake crouched down in front of the chair. Her hands were bound to the arms with her palms up. He traced his fingers over her exposed arm. “Do you know how Nightshade marks their women?”

“What?”

“They brand them. Get something metal, steel works well. Heat it up. Press it against the skin and wait until you hear the flesh cooking or the screams stop.”

“So?” Caroline's mouth felt dry. “I need water.” And she needed him to stop talking. And maybe she needed to throw up.

“I'll give you water, if you tell me why Buster hasn't bothered to brand you. Doesn't that keep you up at night? Amelia's the only other Nightshade old lady. She's got a brand right on her wrist.”

“I don't know.”

“You don't know much of anything,” Jake shook his head. “I'm getting bored with the same old song. Maybe you need more incentive than watching Jillian get stomped and Amelia getting shot. Maybe I need to make it more personal.”

He stepped back. Caroline closed her eyes, opened them again and tried not to fall apart. This was going to end badly. Really fucking badly. And it wouldn't be quick. Jake was opening a small leather bag she hadn't seen him come in with. How long had she been out for? Where were Jillian and Amelia? Was Amelia alive? Was Jillian? Was she as alone as she felt when she watched him take out a metal rod with a circle attached to the end? She couldn't make out the letters, but she recognized it for what it was, it was a brand iron like the ones used on livestock. He also had a small blow torch. Just fucking great. Caroline knew that trying to escape was futile, so she braced herself.

She willed her brain to go wherever it had gone when she'd spent the months in bed after her broken engagement, a place where she felt nothing and there was only white noise and waves, but she remained brutally aware.

She could smell the fuel for the torch; it was butane, not that it mattered. Jake came back over to her, made a show of heating the circle. Caroline tried to make out the lettering, but she couldn't. Focus wasn't her strong suit at the moment. It never occurred to her to beg Jake not to do as he planned, because deep down she knew it wouldn't change a thing.

Nothing would change a thing. There was no one to ride to her rescue. She was going to die, in her own chair, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. It was hopeless. Even if it wasn't, even if she could fight, she wasn't sure that she would.

Jake didn't say a word as he shut off the torch. The metal glowed menacingly. Caroline finally figured out what it was. She recognized the intricate WC from the graffiti around town. It was insult to injury as the hot metal pressed against her skin.

The pain was unlike anything she'd ever felt. Worse than she thought possible. The smell of searing flesh, her flesh, made her stomach churn. She managed not to throw up, and then the iron was no longer against her skin. It was still agony, but she managed to breathe through it as he pressed the iron against the sensitive skin of her inner arm again.

“Are you certain that you cannot access the accounts, Caroline? One-hundred-percent sure?”

Caroline lost track of how many times he had asked the question after the third round. No matter how she answered, she was burned. He only wanted to know what she didn't know. The edges of her vision began to blur. Despite the pain, she was tired. So tired that it was hard to tell if she kept falling asleep or passing out.

Jake roused her each time with a sharp slap to the face. Her cheek was sore, but that was the least of her concerns. It was a toss-up between what agony was worse, the pain in her head or the raw skin of her inner arm. “Have you had enough, Caroline? Are you going to tell me the truth now?”

“I have been.” At that moment Caroline was glad she was telling the truth because if she'd known something she just might have blurted it out to make this stop.

“Wrong answer. I'll give you credit, you're tougher than I expected. You've heard of Binky, right?” Jake reached into his jeans and pulled out a baggie with several pills in it. “It's a mite unpredictable, but you know that already, don't you?