Chaos Bound (7 page)

She needed advice, and there was only one place to get it. With one last look at the bathroom door, Naiya picked up the motel phone and punched in her bestie’s number.

“I’m in trouble, Ally,” she said quickly, although she doubted Holt could hear her over the shower. “Viper came for me at the cemetery.”

“Bastard.” Never one to hold back an opinion that needed expressing, Ally spat out the word. Naiya could imagine the look on her best friend’s face. Ally was as expressive physically as she was verbally and more than once after they met at college in Missoula, Naiya had been on the wrong end of her flailing hands.

“You should have let me come with you to the cemetery,” Ally continued. “It’s not that long a drive from Missoula. He wouldn’t have dared touch you if I was there.”

“He probably would have taken you, too. And I didn’t want anyone there. I didn’t even cry, Ally. I just felt … nothing.” Even now she felt guilty. Who didn’t cry at their mother’s funeral? But then what mother would tell her daughter to go back to the man who had raped her to ensure her mother’s drug supply?

“That’s because your mother was a selfish bitch who only cared about getting her next fix and who she could sleep with to pay for it.” Ally knew about Naiya’s past and had been supportive and encouraging when Naiya decided to try therapy. She’d been the one to get Naiya back into the dating game, setting her up with sensitive, understanding men who didn’t mind waiting to have sex. Men like Maurice.

A hard-working lab tech and devout Catholic who shared her interest in science, Maurice had been happy to put the sexual side of their relationship on hold, which saved Naiya from the usual charade of faking orgasms and focusing on her partner’s pleasure to deflect attention from the fact she wasn’t enjoying herself. Although Naiya wasn’t sexually attracted to him, she thought Maurice was stable, fun, and comfortable to be with, and they rarely disagreed.

Ally’s tone softened. “Are you okay? I mean … Viper…”

She filled Ally in on the details: the threats, the dungeon, Holt, their escape, and now her predicament—stuck in a motel room with an injured outlaw biker who felt obligated to protect her, when really, she needed to get away from Montana, as far and as fast as possible.

“He needs medical attention, but he refused to go to a hospital. I was wondering…”

“I’m there. And I’ll bring the boy with me.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Naiya’s lips. Ally had been with her boyfriend, Doug, since she was sixteen years old. Although he was five years older than her, she often called him “the boy” because of his babyish face, easygoing nature, and his willingness to pretty much do anything she told him to do.

“I won’t tell Holt until you’re here. He’s not very receptive to suggestions when it comes to his health.”

“Is he cute?” Ally asked.

“Yes.” She blurted out the word before she could stop herself. “Blue eyes. Blond hair—long since it hasn’t been cut for a while. And he’s got a beard, although I’m not sure if that’s a normal look for him.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “He’s breathtakingly gorgeous and that’s with his face all bruised and cut up and his body doubled over in pain. He’s also stubborn, and he’s got a protective streak a mile wide. He’s a big guy, too. Not fat, obviously, since he’s been imprisoned for some time. But he’s got a linebacker’s frame and a lot of muscle. I can’t imagine what he was like before.”

“Annnnd … you’re planning to run away?”

Naiya laughed. “And you’re trying to set me up with a ruthless outlaw biker hell-bent on revenge who’s been tortured for God knows how long and was going to just dump me off until he realized he needed my help. I have a boyfriend, thanks.”

“Maurice is a nice guy,” Ally said. “But, and I say this with all due respect to Maurice since he’s Doug’s friend, he’s kinda dull. Certainly not as exciting as an outlaw biker on the run. You’ve spent years doing dull, and it hasn’t worked out for you. Maybe you should try the wild side.”

“I lived the wild side, Ally.” Her chest tightened with the memory of the first time she’d gone to a party at the Black Jacks’ clubhouse. “That didn’t work out so well for me either.”

“That was a one-off with the biggest, meanest, vilest piece of crap on the planet.” Ally’s voice sharpened. “You can’t let it stop you from spreading your wings a little bit.”

Naiya perched on the edge of the bed, reluctant to touch any more of the bedspread than necessary. All the travel blogs she followed warned about contaminated bedspreads and how the first thing you were supposed to do in a hotel room was remove them. “I’m happy with Maurice. He’s comfortable. He doesn’t push.”

“You’re like an old married couple,” Ally said. “The other day you said his kisses were soft and mushy and tasted like milk.”

“That’s ’cause he drinks a lot of milk. He’s not into drugs or alcohol, or mind-altering substances.”

Ally heaved a sigh. “You are in serious need of a mind-altering substance if you’re planning on spending the night with a bad-ass biker and not taking advantage of the situation.”

Naiya stood and pulled the orange plaid bedspread off the bed with one hand, tossing it over a nearby chair. “He’s injured. I’m not about to whip off his clothes and … you know. He probably doesn’t even like me. I got nervous around him and let my geek side show.”

“So that’s what you want?” Ally said as Naiya kicked off her shoes and settled back on the cool, white sheets. “A boring life with milquetoast Maurice? You need to have some fun before you settle ’cause that’s my only regret in life. I love Doug to bits, but we got married too young and we never got to go out and do crazy things like go on the run from a psychopathic biker with a strange tortured biker in tow.”

“Life isn’t supposed to be fun,” Naiya said quickly. “It’s supposed to be hard work. If you want to have a good life, a decent and stable life, you have to be disciplined and focused. You have to have a goal and a plan and work hard to achieve them so you don’t wind up as a forty-five-year-old meth-addicted biker club whore who hasn’t spoken to her daughter in seven years and overdoses in a biker president’s bed.”

“Oh honey.” Ally was instantly contrite. “I’m so sorry about your mom.”

But Naiya was a on a roll, trying to justify her decision to stay with Maurice despite the very concerns Ally had just raised that had been in her mind over the last year. “Maurice shares my philosophy and my dislike of the freewheeling, irresponsible, criminal biker lifestyle. This year he took a second job at night so he could increase his savings. And he keeps me on track. When he sees me reading those travel blogs, he reminds me how much money we’ll need for a deposit if we want to buy a nice house in a nice area of town. And when I wanted to go to a motorcycle show, he calculated the depreciation of a motorcycle over ten years, then pulled up the statistics of motorcycle deaths on Montana’s highways.”

“He’s a real catch, that one,” Ally said dryly. “I am seriously wondering what I was thinking when I introduced you two.”

“You knew he’d be perfect for me.”

“So why haven’t you called him yet?” Ally said softly. “Why isn’t Maurice, the white knight, already in his white Volvo and driving out to rescue you?”

A good question. And not one for which she had an answer. Once Maurice arrived, it would be all over. Good-bye Holt and his tickling fingers, his searching eyes, his jealousy over a man who was not even remotely attractive. Good-bye heart-thumping escapes and breath-stealing motorcycle rides. But really. What was she thinking? Maurice would be worried sick when she didn’t answer her phone. He would probably swing by her apartment and call the police when he realized she was missing.

“Maybe you should call him,” Naiya said. “I don’t have his number. It was in my phone.”

“You sure?”

No, she wasn’t sure, but calling Maurice was the right thing to do. “Yes, of course. He’ll be worried about me.”

Never one to give up without a fight, Ally said, “I’ll take my time. Just in case you want to get some biker lovin’ before we get there. What’s there to lose? You’re not having sex with Maurice, so technically it’s not cheating. No ties. No heartbreak.”

Naiya’s stomach did a curious flip. But aside from the fact Holt was injured and clearly desperate to get rid of her, she couldn’t imagine being with someone as dominant and controlling. Too much like Viper and the bikers she had worked so hard to leave behind.

“Maybe he can’t,” she whispered into the phone. “He was tortured, Ally. He’s hurt pretty bad.”

“I’ll check him out when I get there. Give you the scoop.”

“Very professional.” She snorted a laugh. “I have a feeling he’s not going to let you do a full examination. He’s not like any biker I’ve met before. I think the pain and torture softened him up, and he’ll be back to his no-good, ruthless, womanizing, murderous, misogynistic biker self in no time.”

She gave Ally directions to the motel, warned her to make sure she wasn’t followed, and then hung up the phone. Now what? Her stomach rumbled, giving her the answer. Maybe there was an all-night convenience store nearby or somewhere she could grab a few sandwiches. Holt clearly was in need of a good meal. She pulled open the door, only to freeze when she heard Holt call out behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“Food.” She looked back over her shoulder at the badly beaten man wearing only a towel and a scowl. How long had he been standing there? What had he heard? “Maybe get you some clothes.”

“My job.”

“Get over it. You’re injured. That means you rest, and I look after you. Grumble all you want, but there’s not much you can do about it, and if you try to stop me I’ll box your ears.”

His lips quirked, amused. “Box my ears?”

“Yes.” Her cheeks heated. “My grandmother used to say it. I didn’t want to threaten real violence because you’ve been through enough.” Her gaze took in the dark red wheals on his chest, the long thin marks of a whip, and the countless bruises, cuts, and burns. Softening her voice, she said, “You really need a doctor, Holt. I think some of those cuts are infected.”

“I’ll be fine. But you won’t be if you go out there.”

She supposed he was right. The Black Jacks had chapters and support clubs all over the state and a quick email or text with her picture was all it would take to alert them to be on the lookout. “I won’t go into town. I’ll just go to the restaurant attached to the motel and see if they’ve got anything left over from the day.”

“I’ll keep watch from the door.” He walked toward her, taking slow, measured steps, and she struggled not to look down.

“In your towel?”

“Gotta gun. If I wave it around, no one’s gonna be looking down.” He leaned against the doorjamb. Maybe he wasn’t concerned about her safety as much as he was worried about her leaving. After all, he’d been in that dungeon alone for a long time. And although he seemed okay, he had to be suffering the effects of the torture and isolation, maybe even fear. Just like her.

“I’m coming back, Holt.”

His shoulders sagged just the tiniest bit, and he grunted his assent as he made his way across the room. “Still gonna watch from the door.”

“If it makes you happy.”

Curiously, it made her happy that he was concerned about her safety. This last year, Maurice had stopped walking her to her car at night or asking her to call him to let him know she’d gotten home safely. When she asked, he said he knew she was always cautious, and he didn’t want to demean her by assuming she couldn’t look after herself. Which had made sense at the time, but now she realized she’d missed that little show of caring.

He stood in the doorway as she walked through the parking lot to the reception desk, and he was still there ten minutes later when she returned with some Styrofoam containers, a bag of snacks and some Bolton, Montana, souvenirs: T-shirts, sweats, and hats.

“You get to advertise for the town.” She handed him a bundle of clothes after he closed the door behind her. “Unfortunately, they didn’t have any underwear.”

Holt held up the navy blue sweatshirt with a yellow beaver embroidered on the front beneath a Bolton Beaver logo.

“Beaver Country?” He pointed to the slogan. “Christ. We’re in the fucking sticks.”

“I got you sweatpants and a couple of T-shirts, too.” She pointed to the rest of the clothes. “And I got a T-shirt to put over my clothes in case there’s a draft on the floor.”

“You’re sleeping in the bed.”

“Floor.”

“Bed.” Holt sat on the bed and patted the mattress. “Beside me.”

“You’re injured. You need your rest. And they have a computer in the lobby with free Wi-Fi. While you’re sleeping, I can do some research about bus schedules, and get back to job hunting. Anything you want me to look up?”

He stretched out on the bed, the towel loosening around his hips. “You’re staying here. In bed. Won’t be able to rest if you’re lying on the floor, and I can’t watch you if you’re in the lobby. You don’t gotta worry. I barely got the energy to stand much less try it on with you in your beaver shirt.”

“You don’t understand.” Her voice sharpened. “I need to check my messages and do some research. I won’t be able to sleep if I don’t have a plan. There’s no time to waste.”

“Sleep isn’t a waste of time.” He folded his arms over his head, and she got a full, soul-destroying look at the abuse he’d suffered in Viper’s dungeon. Cuts, bruises, whip marks, knife wounds, scars … Even with all her forensic-science training, she couldn’t identify some of the implements that had been used on him. How did someone go through all that and come out emotionally unscathed?

“You had a shit day, same as me,” he continued. “Gotta recharge the batteries.”

Naiya twisted her lips to the side, considering. Although she was loathe to admit it, the prospect of sleep held some appeal. And she hadn’t been keen on sleeping on the floor, which was no doubt as filthy as the bed spread.

But did she trust him? After the night with Viper, trust had been her biggest issue with men. Even more than her inability to enjoy sex. Although she’d come a long way with her therapist, she only dated men she knew first as friends, or who were known by her friends. Holt was the first man she’d been alone with whom she didn’t know in some respect.