Rising Heat (23 page)

“I know some people who can help.”

“Who?”

“Sit down, Ash, there’s something you need to know.”

I impatiently glanced at Bones. “I don’t want to sit down. We need to find out where they’re keeping Kathy. They told me to meet them at the abandoned gas station in Aurora tonight, but I don’t trust them. I don’t think they’ll bring her. We have to find out where they’re keeping her before the meet.”

“When?” Sarge asked.

He was a big dude. Same height, but he was a lot bulkier than me. He was built like a Mack truck. If I wasn’t me, I might’ve been intimidated by that unwavering gaze of his, the way his arms were held out slightly away from his body, his hands almost always clenched into fists, as if ready to clobber someone.

“How do I know I can trust you, Sarge?” I glanced at Bones. “I don’t know why you brought him, but—”

“Sit down, Ash,” Bones said again, gesturing to the bed. I stared at my best friend for several moments, my jaw working. Then I glanced at Sarge, who looked at Bones and then offered a short nod.

“He’s a Feeb, Ash.”

At first, I didn’t understand. It didn’t compute. And then I looked again at Sarge, who now wore the inkling of a grin. A Feeb? “Spider was right. You’re the undercover agent,” I said softly. Never in my wildest imagination would I have figured Sarge for a Feeb. He looked like a ball-buster, a bouncer. Rough around the edges. I cursed. He looked exactly the way an undercover gang banger should look.

He didn’t say anything but just nodded again.

“You weren’t dishonorably discharged from the Marines?” He shook his head.
“Were
you in the Marines?”

He nodded. “Oo-rah.”

I scowled up at him. “You know, Spider and the rest, they think I’m the undercover.”

He nodded.

“You knew.” I scowled up at him. I started to stand up, but Bones placed a hand on my shoulder.

“Not now, Ash,” he cautioned. “He knows where they’re holding Kathy.”

I shrugged off Bones’ hand and abruptly stood, standing so close to Sarge that our noses nearly touched. “Then let’s go get her.”

He didn’t even flinch. “We will. But first, we have to wait long enough for my team to get into place.”

“Your team?”

He offered another fucking nod. What was it with this guy? He had something against speaking?

He glanced at the clock on the wall. “In a couple hours, they’ll be in place.”

I shook my head and turned again to glare at Bones. “In place where? Where are they keeping her?” I looked at Sarge. “If they hurt one hair on her head while we’re sitting around with our thumbs up our asses waiting for
your team
to get into place, you and I are going to have a problem. You got that?”

He nodded.

I wanted to punch him in the face.

“She’s all right. Scared, but all right.”

My pulse pounded in my forehead. “You’ve seen her?”

Another fucking nod. I glanced at Bones, who offered a slight shrug, and then I snapped. “I get it that you’re used to being tightlipped, Sarge, but if you don’t start explaining yourself, and quickly, I’m outta here. You got that?” I struggled to rein in my temper. Sarge was the undercover? Spider had been right to be paranoid. It was Sarge’s fault that I was in this mess. Sarge’s fault that Kathy was now taking the brunt of it. I wanted to smash his face in. I wanted to beat him to a pulp. I wanted to—

“You know that Spider is trying to work a deal with the Juárez cartel.”

It was my turn to nod.

“I’m taking them down,” Sarge said simply. “But it doesn’t hurt to have a little help from inside. He glanced at Bones.

It didn’t take long for me to make the connection. I turned to Bones in surprise. “You
knew
he was the undercover?”

“Not until a couple of days ago—”

I stared at my friend. “I can’t believe this. You know what’s been happening. And you didn’t tell me? You couldn’t warn me? I just put Kathy in an enormous amount of danger. Right now, they could be—”

“She’s all right, Ash,” Sarge broke in.

I glared at him, then again at Bones. “She might be all right physically, but do you have any idea what this might do to her emotionally? She’s probably already lost her jobs. She’s not in a good position financially. And you know, even if you manage to haul in the gang members, it will take a while, years maybe, to get them all convicted, even
if
you have solid evidence against them. She could be in danger for years if she testifies.”

I sat down on the bed, rubbing my head, which felt like it was going to explode any minute. I looked up at Bones. “You should’ve told me. You should’ve fuckin’ told me! I wouldn’t have asked her out. I wouldn’t—”

“Ash, I didn’t know you were getting serious about this girl. You just met her.”

“It doesn’t matter! If I had known what was going on, I wouldn’t have…” I broke off. It was too late now. I was angry and disappointed in Bones, but I didn’t have the luxury of nursing my emotions. We had to get Kathy.

“This is so fucked up,” I ground out, then stood, took a deep breath, and looked again at Sarge. “You and I can talk later. Let’s go get her.”

“You know I can’t blow my cover, right?” Sarge asked.

I stared at him a moment and then sighed. I got it. I really did. “So what are you suggesting?”

“No matter what happens, they’re going to continue to think that you’re the informant, the undercover. No matter what happens, you’re going to have to disappear. You understand what I’m saying?”

“Won’t be a problem,” I said.

“It’ll take money—”

“Still not a problem. I can make the necessary arrangements.”

Silence filled the room.

“So what’s the plan?” I snapped.

Kathy

I
thought I was scared on the back of Ash’s bike, bullet’s flying in all directions. I thought I was scared as we flew down the interstate a hundred miles an hour. I thought I was scared when I saw the blood on his arm.

I didn’t know scared.

I knew it now.

After they took me from the room, I remembered very little except for the terror. It filled every cell of my body, took over my brain, created a loop of sorts; a loop of emotions that threatened to send me off the deep end. All I felt was my terror.

Occasionally, other emotions reached beyond my fear. Disgust. My abhorrence to be forced to lean into the jacket of the biker riding in front of me. These two… they were disgusting. They smelled disgusting. Their teeth were disgusting. Their faces were disgusting. Their clothes were filthy
and
disgusting. I sensed nothing good in either of them. They were just… evil.

I missed Ash. I wanted Ash. I wanted Ash to come save me from these freaks.

The two bikes roared through Golden, and I prayed for a police car to pull us over. They had both decelerated quickly when one of the lights turned red. So forcefully in fact that I accidently bumped into the guy’s back. He turned to glance at me over his shoulder and winked. My stomach roiled.

For a second, I thought about jumping off the back of the motorcycle, running and screaming my head off, but then the other one pulled his bike up closer, made a movement that pulled my gaze to his waistband. Made sure I saw the butt of the gun protruding there. I wished the gun would go off and blow his dick off. Served him right.

My heart pounded so fast and so hard that I thought for sure I would have an aneurysm. I’d pop a blood vessel somewhere in my body, or maybe my heart would just explode. Would it?
Could
it?

I felt faint and dizzy. I tried to slow down my panicked breathing. Take longer breaths. I knew I was hyperventilating, but I tried to hold on, tried to focus on bringing needed oxygen into my system. Breathe in. Breathe out. Just breathe.

Despite my overwhelming fear, my concerns about what these guys intended to do with me, I couldn’t help but worry about Ash. I knew, deep down, that he hadn’t deserted me at the motel. Hadn’t left me. He was gone for a reason, and I knew he would be coming back. If he could.

I don’t know where he’d gone. Maybe to meet his friend. I hoped to God that he would soon realize that I hadn’t just disappeared. That I hadn’t left. That I hadn’t decided, once the taxi took me into Golden, to just keep going.

There was no question as to who had taken me. The emblem logo patch sewn onto the back of the jacket of the guy I clutched so desperately was proof. The skull, up close and personal, grinned at me. The skeletal fingers grasping the guns.
Outlaw
embroidered above the patch.
Biker Boys
below.

The air tore at my hair and blasted me in the face. My eyes watered, and I squinted, sometimes even dared to close them. But that increased my fear. So did looking down at the asphalt blurring beneath me. Something hard hit my cheekbone, a bug I think, and I ducked behind the man in front of me, wishing this ride would end.

We flew past cars. Drivers and their passengers turned to look at us. I wanted to gesture for help, but knew I couldn’t. Each time I thought about it, the other Outlaw seemed to read my mind. He would hold up his hand like a gun, pointing it at the car. The message was clear. He would kill anyone I tried to contact for help.

Besides, would they help me? Or would they be as judgmental as I had been only a few days ago? Would they only see me as one of the “old ladies” of the gang? Would they see my screams as me begging for help, or just the obnoxious shouts of a biker chick?

I was in such a panic that my brain jumped from one thought to another. Did they even call them biker chicks anymore? Old ladies? I had never watched that show on TV, that one about the motorcycle gang… anarchy something. Maybe I should have. Maybe then I would have an inkling, though the show had been fiction, of what I could expect.

That was stupid, I scolded myself. That was a television show. More than likely, it romanticized the biker life. Made it seem cool. What a horrible influence on impressionable kids.

The guy in front of me stank. Every time I bounced forward, I smelled the engine grease, his body odor, and other smells that had saturated his jacket. It made me nauseous. His long, stringy hair looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. It hung in clumpy strands. I couldn’t help but wonder if lice had taken up residence in that hair. Or in his clothes. I glanced down at my hands, clutching the fabric of his grimy faux leather jacket. I almost yanked my hands away. Almost.

I don’t know how long I was on his motorcycle. Every time we had to slow down or stop, the other dude pulled his bike up close, close enough to touch me if he wanted to. The look in his eyes scared me. He looked like he wanted to…

Turning my face away from him, I thought of Ash again. Was he okay? If so, would he attempt to save me? There was an attraction between us, but would he risk his safety, or his life, for me?

I understood why they’d taken me. I was a pawn. Bait. A carrot they would dangle to catch their real goal. But what if Ash decided he didn’t want to play?

Refusing to let my mind go there, I tried to block out everything. Every doubt. I tried to force every sensation, molecule, and atom in my body to go blank. I tried not to think about where I was or where I was going, or what would happen to me when I got there. I tried not to think about Ash, or what would happen — not in the next second, the next minute, the next hour.

It didn’t work.

As the miles passed, my mind drifted to an even darker place. Went to worst-case scenarios. Rape. Torture. Would they kill me or keep me? Sell me? Force me into prostitution? And which would be worse? I wasn’t sure.

Warm tears filled my eyes, but the wind blasting into my face kept them from forming. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut, refusing to cry. These men would relish my fear, feed off it. I had to be calm. At least on the outside.

I lifted my head when we slowed down. We were at the base of the foothills, taking a frontage road somewhere. Off in the distance, maybe a mile or so away, was the interstate, running parallel to the mountains. There were the taller buildings of Denver to the north, so we were someplace in southwest Denver. I had rarely ventured this way and even then, I wasn’t familiar enough with the area to even dare get off the highway.

And then I saw a road sign. We were getting onto the southbound 470. That highway hovered and curved around the western edges of a number of Denver communities including Lakewood and Littleton. We weren’t on the highway for long before the motorcycle took an off-ramp and headed east. Then south again. Then east. I was totally lost, with no idea where I was. I saw a sign for Chatfield Lake, but again, had no clue where that even was.

The motorcycles slowed and pulled off the two-lane asphalt road we were on, heading toward what looked to be an abandoned diner or something, right off the road. We had arrived at our destination. I could tell by the long row of bikes parked out front. My heart started pounding even harder. A couple of guys were standing around on the porch. A wooden overhang that dipped with age in spots, missing boards in others. Those guys just stared, sipping out of beer bottles.

Ash. I needed Ash. They wanted Ash. Two very different things.

As the motorcycles pulled up near the row of bikes, others came out of the building. One of them was very tall, thin, with a birdlike face. I could just imagine that when he was growing up in school, he might’ve had a nickname like Beanpole. He might’ve looked scrawny, but he obviously commanded respect. Other guys coming out of the interior of the old diner seemed to defer to him. They looked at us, then looked at Beanpole, then looked at us again, as if trying to gauge his reaction before they reacted.

“Get off.”

Stinky Guy was talking to me. He sat on the bike, glaring at me over his shoulder. I blinked. Could I move? I tried to move my right foot, tried to dismount the motorcycle, but I was frozen.

“Get off or I’ll push you off,” he threatened.

All I could manage was a scowl. Finally, bracing my hands against his back, loath as I was to even touch that disgusting jacket that might or might not be crawling with lice, I managed to swing my leg over the back of the seat and dismount the bike. I stood still for a moment, telling myself to stand up and not collapse, despite the fact that my legs felt like they wanted to give way beneath me. Surprisingly, they held me up, and I stood straighter, doing my best to keep a blank look on my face.