Cowboy Bikers MC #10 by Esther E. Schmidt
CHAPTER EIGHT
– REDDING –
My head fucking hurts and it feels as if someone is dragging my body over the ground. I blink a few times and try to move my hands to rub my eyes but they are restrained over my head.
My sight slowly comes back and I become aware of the fact that I am indeed being dragged over the ground. There’s a carpet underneath me–the one from Fenna’s living room–and it’s tied to my own fucking horse. My hands are cuffed and tied to my horse as well with a damn rope.
Kayla is walking next to my horse, chatting away as if this shit is the most normal thing in this fucked-up world. She’s rattling about how this is meant to be, my horse being one who carries me, how easy it was to get me to come with her, how she will take care of me and make me see reason how we all belong together. This is a whole new sense of screwed-up if you ask me.
Glancing around, I try to make sense of my surroundings. We’re not far from club property and Fenna’s house. I’d say we’re in the middle and heading toward town. She’s probably trying to take me to her house that’s roughly twenty minutes away by foot. Seeing as she’s taken my horse, she’s taking the road through pastures.
I try to move my feet but they are bound with rope. Fucking hell, seems like they made preparations to do this. Why else would she manage to kidnap me by using my own horse and have handcuffs and rope along with it?
Though, the rug from the living room? Improvising. And why am I trying to make sense of this shit in my head? Oh, I know, because I can’t seem to come up with a damn escape plan.
I try and glance in the direction of Fenna’s home but I can’t make anything out. I strain to hear if there might still be gunfire but all I hear are the sounds of nature. Anger fuels my veins and yet there’s nothing for me to do but let my horse drag me along.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” Kayla quips with a cheery voice. “For a moment there I was afraid I hit you too hard. August said I shouldn’t be too aggressive, that’s his job and all, but I didn’t have a choice. You were going to shoot me. Which by the way isn’t very nice, we have to work on that.”
Yeah. Cuckoo for damn sure. This reminds me of a book or a movie where a woman kept a dude restrained to a bed. Wait, is she going to break my legs next? You know, so I can’t walk out on her?
“Release me, Kayla,” I ask in a polite voice.
Which by the way costs me great effort but I know for sure I have a better chance getting to her when I’m being nice rather than giving her my anger. My plan of shooting at her led me to this position and maybe if I sweeten her up, she will release me. Crazy. But this chick thrives on crazy.
“My horse is strong enough to carry the both of us,” I add, hoping she fixes on the “us” part in my sentence.
With the details Decker found out with her ex-husband, and the obsession she seems to have with me, it might give me a shot to overpower her once she’s cut me loose. I don’t see this ending peacefully any time soon when this woman is living in her own headspace.
“I’m supposed to bring you back to the house and lock you in the basement. August would handle the rest.” She glances over her shoulder in the direction of Fenna’s house. “No fire yet. He’s going to wipe our tracks.” She pats the bag she’s slung over her shoulder. “I got the laptop and a few other personal items August made me bring from the house so we could withdraw money. Maybe you can help us. No, August said he’d handle it. Were you with her because she was rich? That must be it because you didn’t know her all that long. You only met her in the bar a few hours before you kissed her. Did you do it to make me jealous? She didn’t deserve you. But we do get the money now and we will be together. Maybe that’s why you picked her…for us…so we would have enough money to live happily ever after.”
A chicken without a head will still be able to walk as if it’s still alive and well; that’s this chick right here. Movement in the bushes behind us catches my attention and I can make out a person in a black suit. Fucking hell, I do hope that’s the FBI, swooping in to save the day.
“My arms are hurting,” I remark, trying to get her attention, and trying the sympathy angle so she’ll stop and fuss with me; allowing those guys an angle to overpower her or something. “You don’t want to hurt me, Kayla, do you?”
“Well, that will be your punishment for cheating on me,” she easily supplies.
“What the fuck?” I roar, unable to restrain myself and by now I’m done with her bullshit and don’t even care if she aims a gun on me and pulls the fucking trigger because there’s no way I’m going with her or condone her to think I’m with her and we’re meant to be and shit.
“I don’t cheat and certainly not with you because I am not, nor was I ever, with you. The only woman who I consider mine is Fenna, she’s my damn future, not you.” There’s venom dripping from my voice.
My horse abruptly comes to a stop and suddenly Kayla is standing over me smacking her flat hand against my cheek. My cheek flames as she rubs her hand against her jean covered leg, probably to soothe the sting in her palm from slapping me.
“Stop spewing lies. You flirted with me for weeks. We talked. I could tell you wanted me to come by the bar whenever you were working. We have a connection. You belong with me. We’re together, have been for weeks,” she says, her voice raising with each word as she leans into my personal space.
“Freeze, hands where we can see ‘em,” a voice bellows.
Kayla swings her gun in his direction. Other men appear from different sides.
“Don’t come any closer.” The gun wavers in her hand. “I mean it.”
“We have you surrounded,” another agent states. “Drop the gun and put your hands on your head.”
Her hand holding the gun is shaking as her eyes go down to me. “You’re mine. You and I will be together. Forever. We have to. We’re meant to be.”
A cold shiver runs down my spine and fear taints my veins, as if my body feels the last few seconds of my life are ticking away. She swings the gun in my direction and all I can do is become aware of the sound of gunshots as her body starts to jerk.
Blood spatters as her body crumbles to the ground. My heart is racing and I jerk against the restraints. I have to get the hell out of here and get to Fenna. The gunshots reminding me all too vividly of the ones I heard when I was stuck in the house with this insane woman.
“Stop struggling,” someone says and I feel a hand holding on to the cuffs restraining me.
“What happened at the house?” I croak, needing to know but on the other hand dreading the news they’re about to tell me.
“Three people are badly injured, one casualty,” the man supplies.
My hands are now free and I work on the rope wrapped around my feet.
I swallow hard and ask the dreaded question, “Who died?”
“Ewald.” I glance up at the person stating one of my brother’s name and see Decker standing before me, his jeans and shirt covered in blood.
“Fuck,” I whisper croak and swallow hard to push the name over my lips. “Fenna?”
Fear holds my heart while I wait for his response. The look in his eyes isn’t giving me any comfort.
“She was shot three times. Arm, shoulder, and in the leg.”
“Motherfucker.” I take in a choppy breath and run a hand over my head. “Is she…she’s going to make it, right?” I take a step forward. “I have to go to her. Fuck. Why did I push her out of the fucking house and straight into the line of fire?” I roar, getting angry at myself for this fuckup.
Because let’s face it, this was my fault. I drew this twisted chick to me and look what she fucking did. Ewald is dead, my woman is shot. Three. Fucking. Times. And I’m standing here, a mere headache from getting whacked on the head.
“Not your fault, brother,” Decker states and grabs my cut to pull me forward. “Come on, I’ll get you to the hospital and fill you in how your old lady got Dinand to safety. She knew you wanted to protect her by getting her out of the house, did you know that? Because who the fuck would push out their own woman and put them in the line of fire, huh? So, cut that self-pity out of your head and focus on what matters: she’s still alive. Shot. Will need weeks to recover, but she’s still walking this earth the last time I saw her.”
I mindlessly nod while I follow Decker back to Fenna’s house and we get into one of the FBI’s SUVs to head for the hospital. Once we arrive it takes hours of waiting before I’m finally able to see her. She’s still sleeping, though. Recovering from surgery.
But she’s here with me. Sleeping. Alive. Looking as beautiful as ever, knowing this woman is my future. And in all this insanity over the last couple of days, the havoc we’ve been through ever since we met, I believe it’s a walk in the park for us from here on out.
I won’t let anything interfere or get between us again. We have the same ambitions, the same dreams, the same preferences, and more than enjoy each other’s company. Some believe in love at first sight, others think it’s bullshit.
But truth is…you can’t deny a connection you feel bone deep. Lust might be the first thing slamming into our bodies, craving the person your vision is locked on while the love needs time to grow.
But fuck if there are plants on this earth that have rapid growth and so are my feelings toward this woman. Her eyes flutter open and she groans. I stand from the chair right next to her hospital bed and lean in to brush my thumb along her cheek.
“Hey, love,” I croak. “How are you feeling?”
She slightly moves her body and winces, muttering, “Like I’ve been shot too many times.”
I can’t help but snort and give a curt shake with my head. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
“Why are you sorry? You didn’t shoot me, you protected me.” Her voice is firm.
“I shouldn’t have pushed you out of the house, maybe if I–”
“Don’t,” she states harshly. “Whatever you’re going to say, the outcome wouldn’t change. We’re here now.”
She tries to sit up but I place a hand on her breastbone. “Don’t. You were shot in your arm and shoulder, along with your leg. Don’t move unless someone helps you so you don’t rip the stitches or hurt yourself otherwise.”
She ignores me and uses her good arm to shift slightly.
“How is Dinand?” she questions. “He was still unconscious when they moved me into the ambulance.”
“Weston texted me an update half an hour ago. He’s going to be fine but has to stay the night due to a severe concussion and they had to pull a slug from his leg.”
“The others?” she whispers and I see the tears welling in her eyes.
Decker mentioned she saw Ewald get shot in the head.
“Ewald didn’t make it,” I honestly tell her, not wanting any lies between us. “Peri took a bullet to the gut. They thought he wouldn’t make it but the fucker pulled through.”
We fall silent and she reaches out to lace her fingers with mine.
“I can’t believe this happened.” The horror in her voice is killing me.
Leaning in, I place a kiss on her forehead. “It’s over. Everything is behind us. Like you said, we can’t change anything that happened. All we can do is focus on the here and now and work on a future. A future the both of us envision and work hard to make our daydream reality.”
Tears spill over her cheeks.
“Would it be possible?” she croaks. “You make it sound so easy. Yet…what I saw…the blood. The…he shot him. Me. Dinand. He…for what? Because his sister wanted you?”
I swallow hard and debate not telling her. Yet, like I said, I can only give her the truth and hate lying to her.
“They figured out you had money. August wanted it because they were going to lose their house because he was in jail and Kayla lost her job a few months ago so the bank was going to take it. They planned on a whim, she wanted me, he wanted money, getting to us was their goal but they lost in the end. Fucked-up. They won’t ever hurt you again or come after us, both of them are dead. Everything about this is complete insanity and I’m grateful to be standing here next to your bed.”
“I’m grateful you’re standing next to my bed too,” she says, making my heart squeeze.
“You and I, love. Hand in hand to focus on the future from here on out,” I tell her, deciding we need to focus on the positive instead of dwelling on the past neither of us can change.
“You and I,” she agrees, giving our joined hands a squeeze, and my heart along with it.
