Fighting: Fighting for Forever Part 39

We sit back and watch the sleeping motel, checking windows for lights or curtain movement. Minutes pa.s.s and feel like hours. I know there's a good chance Trix is just behind one of those doors. But which one?

The place is smaller, roughly twenty-five rooms. More of them face the highway, but I can't imagine her being stashed over there where Hatch could be freely seen coming and going by people on the highway.

The clock ticks, and almost an hour pa.s.ses before I catch movement to the far left of my vision. "Someone's there."

Rex follows my glare, and we watch a man emerge from a room on the far end. I squint, trying to make him out, but there are no lights in the lot or along the motel walls.

"He's headed to another room." Rex's gaze tracks him right along with mine.

The closer he gets, the more he starts to come into focus. He's wearing a baseball hat pulled down low, so I can't make out any features, but something about him is familiar. Maybe he was at the villa the night she was taken.

"Dammit." I squint when all but his legs are hidden from view beneath a fallen overhang. He stops at a door at the opposite end from where he came.

"I can't see s.h.i.t." I keep my eyes on his feet, waiting to see who comes out of the room and where they're off to. I hold my breath, hoping like h.e.l.l it's that motherf.u.c.ker Hatchet so I can barge over there and beat the living p.i.s.s out of him.

The door opens, and Rex and I lean in, but I can't see enough to make out anything other than him disappearing into the room.

f.u.c.kin' h.e.l.l . . . now what?

Trix "Come on." Hatch's growl comes from the other side of the tiny two-person table. "Eat up." He presses a whiskey bottle to his lips, taking a few long pulls of amber liquid.

Even after days of his barking commands, my stomach still twists every time he snaps. These last few hours he's seemed tenser than usual, taking phone calls that require one word answers and end with a string of curses.

I'm cuffed by one arm to the leg of my chair while I pick at a cold cheeseburger with my free hand. "I'm not hungry."

My heart burns at the memory of the last cheeseburger I had with Mason, how life had seemed so complicated then. I was so stupid. I had everything I never even knew I wanted and turned my back on it all for this?

Being held captive has given me time to think, to face my own mortality, and to pray. I've gone through every emotion possible, wringing them all dry until I'm left with only one.

Remorse.

I wasted so much time. I could have been living but didn't, and Mason . . . G.o.d, I should've thrown myself at his feet when I had the chance. Now I don't know if I'll ever see him again.

"Eat!"

My eyes dart to Hatch's, and the telltale glaze of inebriation coats his glare.

I pop a cold fry into my mouth and chew it until it's liquid, my throat refusing to open and take food into my belly. I dip my chin, hiding my face behind my ratted hair, and try to hide my disgust.

"It's almost over." He tilts his head, watching me. "Soon, this'll all be over."

"I don't even know what this is, Hatch." I try to take a few sips of water, hoping it'll ease my queasy stomach. "You haven't told me anything other than you know who killed my sister but refuse to say."

My gut burns as anger ignites my blood.

He chuckles, but the sound clashes against the pain that twists his expression. "It'll all be over soon."

G.o.d, why does he keep saying that? And furthermore, what does that mean? I answer my own question and my stomach revolts. They're gonna kill me.

I pick away at my food in silence, and Hatch drinks while punching out the occasional text. Since when did he get so popular?

A knock on the door makes me jump, slamming my knee into the table.

I study Hatch, who doesn't seem surprised by the visitor. I haven't seen another person besides Hatch since he brought me here.

A sheen of sweat breaks across my skin, and I pull helplessly against my cuffed wrist. Equal parts panic and hope explode in my chest as Hatch cracks the door and speaks in a hushed voice.

I lean to try to peek around his ma.s.sive back, but I'm at a weird angle and unable to see past him.

Seconds pa.s.s before he steps back and a man enters the room. I can't make him out at first, other than he's wearing a baseball hat and his lack of leather and denim tells me he's not a biker.

Once inside, the guy steps closer to me, and the dim lamp light reveals his face.

I choke on a gasp and cough through a sob.

"Drake? Oh G.o.d, Drake!" I pull hard with my arm, pushing my seat back and standing up to launch myself into his arms. "Get me out of here." I stand and move toward him, dragging the chair with me.

He peruses me with narrowed eyes, seeing me in nothing but an oversized T-shirt and hair that hasn't been brushed in days, but says nothing.

Dread trickles in, cooling the warmth I'd felt upon first seeing him. My head spins as I try to piece it all together, and when he sets his dark and frigid eyes on mine, it all clicks into place.

I drop back into my chair. "You did this?"

He closes the s.p.a.ce between us, but sits at the foot of the bed, just outside arm's reach. Smart. I'd claw his f.u.c.king eyes out. "I did."

I swallow the lump forming in my throat. "But . . ." I shake my head, looking between Hatch and Drake. These men aren't strangers. Hatch was a friend and Drake is my boyfriend's brother. "Why?"

He takes off his hat and runs one palm over his cropped hair before popping it back on. "I needed out."

I swing my gaze to Hatch, who throws back more booze, ignoring me. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Blood for blood. A life for a life." He says it with zero feeling, as if he didn't just sign my death warrant.

"My life"-I take a few seconds to process-"for your life."

"Yes."

I should feel something, a wave of rage that crashes over me and takes away all thought and turns me into some kind of feral animal that will risk my very breath for the chance to escape. Instead, I'm strangely numb, as if the concept is too much for my heart to take. Too complex for my mind to a.s.similate.

"But . . . Mason."

Drake nods, as if he'd considered that too. "He'll get over you."

That's it? He'll get over me?

"No, he'll kill you," I spit between clenched teeth, the primal beast inside waking to the idea that by doing this, Drake will cause Mason pain.

He sighs and leans forward, his elbows on his knees. "He'll believe you left him. He's been through it before. He'll get through it again."

No, he won't. Maybe he has in the past, but what we have is different. What we have is forever.

The last band that tethered me to sanity snaps, and I cover my mouth, trying to force back the beginnings of crazed laughter.

His eyes narrow and he takes me in, cautious, as if at any moment I'll morph into a rabid beast. A giggle bursts from between my lips and quickly matures to full-blown laughter.

A chuckle grates from Hatch as I double over in my seat, letting the absurdity overtake me. Tears spring to my eyes as I suck air into my lungs. "He's so gonna kill you."

"Shut up!" Drake's jaw ticks.

I hold up my hand, silently asking him to give me a second, but the giggles continue to roll from my lips. "He's done . . . everything . . . for you." More laughter.

Anger twists his features, his scar turning light against his fury-flushed skin. "I said shut the f.u.c.k up!"

"If you kill me . . . he'll find out." I wipe back tears as a sob rolls into a hiccup while the chaos of emotions tumbles through me. "He'll never give up until you're dead."

As sick as it is, the laughter makes me feel better about dying. Maybe it's the stress release or the confirmation of what I knew to be a possibility, but either way, I know Mason will dedicate his life to finding out what happened and make the f.u.c.ker pay.

I lean back and slide deep into my chair, my T-shirt riding up high on my bare thighs, and smile. "You don't deserve him."

Even beneath the bill of his hat, I can see the war that wages behind his eyes.

"He actually loves you." I tilt my head, stare, and glory in the way he squirms. "Probably the only person who really does."

Drake pushes to standing so quickly my heart jumps. "Don't have to listen to this s.h.i.t." He pulls something out of his pocket and steps behind me. "Let's get this over with."

Cloth presses against my mouth. I force my lips closed against the intrusion. He wraps a hand around my neck, squeezing tight. "Open. Now."

"f.u.c.k y-" Fabric presses between my teeth and pulls tight. I wince as Drake ties it around the back, ripping hairs from my head in the process.

Another strip of cloth grazes my forehead before the room is plunged into darkness.

"Pull the car around." He releases my cuffed arm and presses between my shoulder blades. "Get the f.u.c.k up."

I stand on wobbly legs as he pulls both hands behind my back. The click of the cuffs sends dread swirling in my belly.

Robbed of sight, speech, and mobility, I'm at the mercy of these psychos and marching to the beat of my death sentence.

Mason "s.h.i.t!" My legs throb with restrained energy. The urge to race out of here, kick that f.u.c.king door down, and rage has me jumping out of my skin. "f.u.c.k this. I'm going."

Rex doesn't say a word, but climbs from the truck with me, and we move toward the door. Adrenaline races through my veins, and I have to fight to stay upright as the flow makes me unsteady.

I don't know what's going on behind that door, but I swear to G.o.d if they touched a hair on Trix's head I'll kill them with my bare hands and paint the walls in their blood.

My vision clouds, fading to tunnel vision with my focus on that door. I'm vaguely aware of Rex at my back, grateful that he's letting me take the lead on this. We close in when suddenly I'm grabbed from behind. Arms like pythons tighten around my body, and one big hand covers my mouth.

Oh, f.u.c.k no.

I leverage my weight, step to the side, ready to sweep the a.s.shole's leg.

"Baywatch." Jonah's voice hisses in my ear. "Calm the f.u.c.k down. We're not the enemy."

He releases me, and I spin to see Blake releasing Rex from a similar hold. They motion to a nearby dumpster and we jog there, staying low to the ground.

"You d.i.c.kheads almost got shot." Rex shoves Blake, who only grins.

"How'd you find us?"

Blake and Jonah share a look I can't read before Blake lifts an eyebrow. "Wild guess."

I run a hand through my hair. "Gia."

Rex groans. "Swear to Christ that woman is gonna be the death of me."

"Can't believe you d.i.c.k-lickers were gonna keep us out of this." Blake bounces a scowl between us.

"Feels like dej vu." Jonah's arms bulge against the black fabric of his long-sleeved shirt, like coiled snakes ready to destroy. His jaw clenches. "Gotta say I'm lookin' forward to finally putting this c.o.c.ksucker down."

Blake, dressed similarly in all black, rolls his head around on his neck. "f.u.c.kin' love beatin' up fat bikers, man. Like punching marshmallow."

"Don't want you guys getting involved in this." I prop my hands on my hips, needing to give them something to do because knowing my woman is possibly only yards away is making me f.u.c.king schizo. "You're married, got kids. Let us-"

Blake presses his finger to my mouth. "Shush, babycakes. Let the adults take this one."

I practically spit off his finger, and his c.o.c.ky grin makes me want to throat punch him, but there are more deserving people just inside this motel.

"Right, so what are we about to face?" Jonah's expression takes on a feral glint. "Please tell me you guys have a better plan than just storming through the front-"

The creak of a rusty motel room door has us all ducking, moving like shadows in unison for a closer look.

"Well, if it isn't our old friend, that tubby f.u.c.k." Rex growls and I move, only to get hooked around the bicep and pulled back. "Where's he going?"

"Baywatch, don't be an idiot." The low timbre of Jonah's voice snaps me back.

Blake holds up a hand. "Let's wait. We don't have a visual yet."

I shake my head. "No, I can't wait." I point to the room Hatch just exited. "She could be in there with some f.u.c.kin' guy right now!" I stand to move forward, not caring if any of those a.s.sholes catch wind of me. If anything, the very idea of getting spotted sends a thrill through my muscles as they stretch and prepare for a fight.

The low rumble of a truck engine catches my attention, and I crouch instinctively. An older Jeep Wrangler, brown, lifted, with no top and huge KC lights comes from around the corner with Hatch behind the wheel.

"s.h.i.t, they're moving." Rex motions for us to head back to my truck.

"Wait, why not just take this a.s.shole down here?"

"Patience, man. They have a gun on her, see us coming; we don't want to risk that." The anger in Jonah's voice is palpable.

"If she's even here." Blake doesn't take his eyes off the door as Hatch heads in to the motel room.

Come on, baby. Come on. Let me see you.