Unruly (29 page)

“I'm Jason Worthington, by the way.”

“Angel,” I lied.

“Really?” Jason said.

“You doubt me?” I smiled lightly.

Jason's companion snorted and muttered something I didn't hear. I doubted it was anything I
wanted
to hear though. They were slime. That much was obvious by the way they looked at me, and that was after the host of facts already lined up against them.

“You think he'll be more willing to face just two of us?” Jason's cohort asked. “He thought he was so smart coming up here, but it only took a few incentives for us to find people willing to watch for him. Those patches on his coat made it pretty obvious where he'd run. Narrow in on the ‘chapters' of that gang.”

“They're not a gang,” I snapped at Shorter Sleaze.

Jason laughed. “So you're not so sold on him that you can keep your mouth shut about him, but not about the thugs.”

Shorter Sleaze nudged Jason. “You know that whores with bikers are passed around like a bowl of chips.”

I pushed
SEND
on my prewritten text message, wishing I could amend it with the few things I'd learned. Whoever these guys were, they were here to find Alamo. I hated summoning him to trouble, but I was feeling increasingly cornered.

“Maybe I should go.” I started to slide off the car, but Shorter Sleaze lunged and grabbed my arm.

I struggled, stomping on his foot and then kicking back at his shins. I jabbed my elbow into his gut as hard as I could. He let out a grunt and released me.

Before I made it more than a few steps, my knee gave as Jason kicked me from behind.

“Now now,
Angel
,” he said as he stomped on my ankle. “The spic seemed awfully protective of you, so I'd rather you don't go just yet.”

The pain in my ankle was a fairly good indicator that I wasn't likely to be able to run if I managed to get to my feet, but being on the ground wasn't a safe plan either. On the other hand, I was in the school lot. Screaming seemed pretty girlie, but better to resort to the girlie ploys than to end up in a bad way.

I opened my mouth, and Shorter Sleaze kicked me hard enough that I gasped for air, choking my scream until it was more of an abbreviated yelp. He jerked me to my feet by one arm, and I discovered that putting any weight on my ankle was not a good plan.

“Your mutt put me in the hospital,” Jason said as he stepped closer to me. “Some little bit of trash went whining because she changed her mind, and he showed up and beat me. I could've put him in jail.”

The temper that threatened to boil over was vying with the increasing urge to vomit from the pain in my throbbing ankle. Jason shook me, and I put my foot down hard. That was it. The puke won. I turned my head and vomited all over Shorter Sleaze.

For a moment, Jason stared at me, and then he laughed.

Shorter Sleaze looked like his whole lifetime's tempers erupted in one instant. He balled up his fist and raised it, but it wasn't his laughing friend he hit. He punched me in the face—which made Jason laugh harder.

After a moment, he looked at his friend. “You can't get in my car like that. Call a cab.”

Then he dragged me to his back passenger car door, opened it, and shoved me inside. “Don't spew in my car,” he said, and then he slammed the door and walked around to the front.

My purse was still on the ground outside the car, and I felt like my face and leg were both thumping in time with my racing heart. I had severely overestimated myself, and underestimated the uptown asshole who was apparently kidnapping me.

He climbed in the front seat.

“You need to let me out and just drive away,” I warned him.

“Or what?”

“I was raised by bikers. Do you honestly think this is a good idea?” I blinked against the new tide of nausea.

“He put me in the hospital, and I couldn't press charges because of the little whore who got cold feet,” Jason snapped. “Díaz owes me.”

“The Wolves protect their own,” I said, both trying to buy time and trying to head off the shit storm that would come if he hurt me any further. It might already be too late to stop retribution, but I wasn't interested in any of my family seeing jail time over this.

Jason said nothing else. He simply started the car and pulled out of the lot, leaving his friend behind and taking me God only knew where.

Chapter 29

A
LAMO WAS TRYING TO FIX THE HEAP OF A CAR THAT
Killer's woman had bought, but when he got Ellen's text, he thought he was going to snap his phone in his bare hands. He dropped the wrench in his hand.

“Killer!”

“What the . . .” Killer's words faded as he glanced at his own phone. “She's an idiot.”

Alamo was already snatching his keys up.

“I'll call Dad, and—” Killer's words died as his phone rang. He answered, “Yeah, I saw it. Where are you? . . . Meet you there.”

There were times when planning wasn't Alamo's strong suit, not a lot of them, but that happened. Zoe and Ana came to the door. “Stay in the goddamn house. There's a gun in the top drawer. No one in unless it's Ellen or a Wolf. Got it?”

“What's . . .” The rest of Zoe's words faded as she looked at Killer. “Fine.”

Killer pulled out his gun, checked the clip, and stalked toward his bike. He threw a leg over it as he spoke into the phone he now had at his ear. “Echo, yeah. It's Ellie. School lot. That's all I know. She sent the guy's plate number. Dash sent it to Mike, so everyone should have it. We're moving.”

“Stay in the house, Zoe.” Alamo repeated as he went to his Harley.

Then he was on his bike and moving. He hated to snap at her, and he hated scaring her, but now wasn't the time to deal with that.

As they rode, he saw more and more Wolves on the road. They all knew who they were looking for, and Alamo had never been so grateful that Ellen was a part of the Wolves family as he was today. He had no idea why anyone would give her shit, but he didn't care. Whoever they were, they were done. It was that simple.

The next twenty minutes felt like a lifetime, but he wasn't allowing the thought of what could be happening even to form. Ellen would be safe—and then he'd lock her in the house or at the least send a fucking guard with her if she needed to leave the house.

They were at a light when he felt another text. It wasn't a
red
light, but he didn't care. He stopped. Killer did the same.

“Douche called Jason. Took Ellie to motel out by the old gym.”

Before he finished reading the first text from Dash, a second came in: “Beef with Alamo. Bastard limping along the road explained. Meet there.”

Dash's text was worse than a fist. Ellen was in danger because of Alamo. He had brought this here, and it was Ellen who was hurt.

“Jason raped Ana, my sister's friend. I put him in the hospital,” Alamo said tersely.

All Killer said in reply was “We're closer than Dash is.”

And they were off again.

Alamo didn't let thoughts of what could be happening into his mind. Ana had sworn that Jason hadn't been violent, that he'd just gotten her too drunk to move. That awful truth was the only comfort Alamo had. The asshole wasn't violent.

He couldn't let any other thought into his mind.

They were headed toward the motel in question when Killer swerved. Alamo looked to the edge of the road to see Ellen there and Jason Worthington trying to drag her to her feet as she kicked at him with one leg.

The car was on the edge of the road with the rear passenger door and the driver's door both wide open. Seeing the asshole he'd put in the hospital at the start of the year wasn't going to put Alamo in the best of moods whenever it happened, but seeing him touch Ellen was a sure recipe for explosion.

It was a toss-up to see whether Killer or Alamo was off his bike and headed toward them first.

Worthington let go of her, and Ellen pushed to her feet unsteadily.

“Back the fuck up.” Alamo glanced at her.

She was limping as she headed toward him. Her clothes looked intact too. He wasn't some caveman who believed a woman was “ruined” if she was assaulted, and he sure as hell didn't think it was ever even a remote possibility that it was a woman's fault if someone hurt her. That didn't take away the fear. He'd seen Ana after Jason raped her. He saw how she still flinched, how she needed to know where the door was, how she scanned crowds and parking lots. It made him livid to even set eyes on the piece of dirt who'd done that to Ana. Knowing that same man had touched Ellen even for a second . . . it did nothing for his self-control.

The roar of several bikes came toward them, but this wasn't Wolf business. This was about Alamo's unfinished business, and it had hurt Ellen.

Worthington opened his mouth to speak, but Alamo's fist was shutting it before a word was said. He honestly didn't know how many times he punched him. He hit and waited to see if Worthington got back up. If he did, Alamo punched him again. If he didn't, he kicked him and ordered, “Stand.”

“Alamo!” It was Dash, not Killer, who caught his wrist.

Alamo spun on him.

“Ellen needs a doctor,” Dash said carefully, gesturing toward her. She was in Killer's arms.

“Miss Bitty's meeting you at the hospital,” Echo said from behind him.

The club president motioned toward a boat of a car, the one Mrs. Evans drove. The older woman was at the wheel now.

“There was an accident,” Killer said. “Ellen was hit walking along the road. The driver wasn't here. Just the car.”

“Alamo?” Ellen said, pulling him the rest of the way into the moment. “I can't walk to the car.”

Carefully he took her from Killer's arms. “I'm so sorry.”

“It's fine,” she said. “I should've told you that there were people following me.”

At that, Echo sighed. “We're going to have a talk when you're healed up, Ellen.”

“Yes, sir. I didn't mean to cause trouble and—”

“Losing you would be trouble,” Echo said firmly. “Go on with Maureen. I need to see if the boys and I can find the driver of the car that hit you. You didn't see him, did you?”

Ellen glanced at Jason, where he was being pinned to the ground with a boot to his throat. “No, I didn't. I fell and was right there until you all arrived.”

Echo nodded. “I expected as much.”

A rusted-out truck pulled up, and Jason Worthington yelped something.

“Boys,” Echo said.

And then he walked away, leaving several Wolves with one sobbing man. He'd raped and beaten at least one woman and now he'd beat up Ellen. It wasn't a great loss that he'd apparently vanished.

Alamo carried Ellen to the car, and once she was settled in the backseat, Echo rode off in one direction and his old lady drove toward the hospital.

There was a muffled shot a moment later.

“I can check your car, Mrs. Evans. I think it has a backfire problem,” Alamo said mildly, offering her an explanation in case she needed one.

Through the rearview mirror, the older woman's gaze fell on Ellen and then she lifted it to meet his eyes. “I guess my hearing's not as good as it once was. I didn't hear a thing.”

Chapter 30

W
AKING UP IN A HOSPITAL BED
,
EVEN THOUGH IT WAS
not unexpected after I'd drifted in and out the past few hours, was startling. Mama and Alamo were both there.

“You're going to break my hand, Mama,” I said lightly.

She looked down at me. “You're lucky you're too old to take a switch to.”

“I love you too,” I told her.

“Go call the boys, Alejandro,” she ordered. “
Both
of them.”

“Yes, ma'am.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Do you want me to come back or—”