Crank's Rescue (Hell Raiders MC Book 6), page 14
"Well, hello, Lanea. My, you are a pretty little thing. You must have boys sniffing after you all the time." Sennit sounded exactly like the slimeball he was.
"N-no, sir. I don't date." And just like that, she made herself an irresistible target.
He practically drooled out loud. "Well, we can't have that. Girls your age need active social lives to be well-adjusted. Come on. I'll take you for a ride, and we can have lunch and get to know each other. It'll be good practice for you."
"I-I really need to go to school."
"Nonsense, girl." The other man needed to make sure she went along peacefully, it seemed. He would probably get paid better if she cooperated. "It's an excused absence, like I told you before. One day to get settled into your new home isn't going to be a problem."
"I d-don't—"
"I won't take no for an answer, Lanea. Now, go put on a nice dress. I'm sure some of the other girls here have something suitable. We're going to a nice place for lunch, so you have to look like you belong."
Everything went quiet again, and tension sat thick and heavy in the room. We waited, unable to speak, while Lanea prepared herself for Sennit. Only an occasional harsh breath, and the soft rustle of clothing indicated she was still there.
Why hadn't I just put a fucking bullet in Sennit's brain? It wouldn't have been the first time I killed some motherfucking piece of human scum. But no, I had to try that fucking white hat on for size, and try to get him and his buddies, and let the justice system punish them. Should have known better. I bit the inside of my jaw until blood flooded my mouth in my effort to keep the rage from escaping.
Reminding myself that Lanea wanted to do it this way, too, so she could get revenge for what happened to Runner only made things worse. If I hadn't come up with this stupid plan, she would never have known the difference, and Sennit would just be fucking gone.
"I'm shutting this shit down." I stood and started for the door.
"No." Two Case suddenly barred the way. "Lanea worried you would try to stop her once things started getting dirty. Gator and I have our orders. This goes forward as planned, unless she uses her safe word."
My field of vision narrowed as adrenaline flooded my system, preparing my body for a fight. "I don't give a fuck about your orders. It's done." I pushed him aside.
The distinctive sound of a gun being cocked came, followed closely by Sarah's little squeak of fear. "You best stop right there, Crank." Fucking Gator.
I turned slowly, ready to assess the risk and take my chances. "You prepared to kill me to make sure I don't interfere?"
The bastard gave a slow grin. "Nope." In a flash, he re-oriented the gun. On Sarah. "But I am prepared to kill her to make you stand down."
Motherfuck! That made no fucking sense at all. "You said you liked Sarah. Why would you hurt her? That's a fucking bitch move right there." I had to piss him off enough to get that gun turned back toward my head.
He raised his shoulder in a lazy half-shrug. "That's personal. This is business. You try to stop this before it's done, Sarah dies." The almost eager glitter in his eyes dared me to make a try. He might like Sarah, but a kill was a kill to him, and he liked it.
Sarah stayed silent through the exchange, proving her courage once more.
Another gun clicked behind me. "And just in case ol' Gator gets cold feet about his end of the job, I won't. Now you fucking stand down. It's gone too far now. If you stop it, Lanea won't get justice for what happened to her last night, or for Runner. She can't live with that."
I might have stood a chance of preventing Gator from harming Sarah, if it was just him. But with both of them against me, the odds of a win weren't worth the risk. I could wait. "Fine." I returned to the chair. The very moment I could ensure Sarah's safety, to hell with justice or whatever else they wanted to call it. I would put a stop to all of it. Except they were fucking right, and I fucking knew it.
Sarah:
For a moment, the air felt too thick to get past the lump in my throat. No matter how much Crank tried to deny it, or for whatever reasons, he couldn't fool me. Beneath that tough exterior lay a good and decent man. The horror of what poor Lanea faced bothered him as much as it did me.
He sat with his arms folded over his chest, glaring at Gator and Two Case. Their actions a few minutes ago clearly angered him to the point of plotting revenge. While part of me wanted to warn them, the rest of me basked in the thrill of his willingness to surrender to protect me. The obvious blow to his pride spoke far louder than his sudden pulling away from me. No matter what he tried to prove, he still cared for me. I could live with that. For now.
I finally gave in to the uncomfortable tension in the room. "What do we do now?"
Two Case shook his head. "We wait. I have four of the boys following, so we'll know where he takes her. They'll be ready to move in if I give the word."
Crank made a sarcastic noise. "And when will that be? When the first pedophile has her spread eagled and bleeding? Or when the next one comes into the room?"
Gator frowned, but Two Case shook his head, and rather than speak, Gator turned back to the computer and put the headphones on. Two Case turned to face Crank squarely. "She's prepared for that if it is necessary."
Crank's growl rolled through the room and raised the hair on the back of my neck. "She can't fucking be prepared for that shit. I know women who have lived it. It fucking breaks something inside them."
"Lanea is a warrior. She is far stronger than most women." Two Case's bronzed face remained implacable.
Crank surged to his feet, fists clenched. "That fucking makes it worse." He paced for a moment, running his hands through his hair. "A while back, we busted up a sex trafficking thing. Several of the women who had been fucking sex slaves for the Saxons MC ended up coming back home with us. Some of them…" He shook his head. "They're fucked up forever."
Two Case's expression softened a little. "I know. But those women had no choice. They were taken. Lanea has a choice. She went into this knowing what would happen, and she accepted that as the cost of the justice she wants. Her strength will allow her to endure."
"I'm glad you're so fucking sure of that." Crank sighed, sounded defeated. "What the fuck ever, man. I won't interfere unless she says. But you fucking remember, she will have to deal with this shit for a very long time." He dropped back into his chair.
It pained me to see him this way. Crank wasn't the type of man to give up on anything, especially something he believed to be true. Accepting this really hurt him.
The need to comfort him rose within me, and before I could rethink the impulse, I went to him and wrapped my arms around him. "It'll be as okay as we can make it, Crank."
He glanced up at me, and slid his hand along my arm. "Yeah, well, I'm not so fucking sure I can live with that. I should have just fucking killed Sennit and called it good enough."
"But then those other men would have continued what they're doing. Killing Sennit might slow them down for a short time, but they would easily find another way. This way allows us to stop them from hurting more children, too." He had to see the big picture. Getting too bogged down in the details of Lanea's situation tormented him too much to allow him to care for the other victims.
He nodded. "Yeah, but I could have made Sennit give me their names, and fucking killed them, too. Problem fucking solved."
My heart clenched at the pain in his voice. "No, that wouldn't solve it. Eventually, you would get caught. And while morally, you would be right, the legal system would have a field day with a member of a biker gang killing random upstanding citizens, even if it were vigilante justice."
His automatic defense of the Hell Raiders kicked in. "It's not a gang. The Hell Raiders is a club. Big difference."
"Semantics, and you know it. Calling it a club doesn't change how the rest of the world sees it. You would be crucified, and the police would be all over every biker gang in the country, searching for more killers. The rest of society would be in a panic, and any time they saw someone on a motorcycle, their fear would conjure up all kinds of scenarios, which they would report as fact. It would become a witch hunt." I paused a second for that to sink in. "This way, you get to stop them, and the police get the credit."
"You could be right." The admission seemed painful for him. "But that doesn't mean I have to fucking like it."
"No, it doesn't. And you wouldn't be the man I know you are if you did like it." Relief started to bring my nerves under control. He wouldn't do anything rash, at least for now.
Tension filled his muscles and he gently, but firmly, shrugged my arms away. "You don't fucking know anything about me, Sarah." The cold tone sent a shiver down my spine.
I had to search for the anger that propelled me to take action and fight for him, but I found it. "I know more about you than you know about yourself."
His eyes blazed as he turned to face me. "No. You have some romantic idea of who you fucking think I am. That's not me."
I laughed. "Oh, I have no illusions about who and what you are, James Harrison Baer. You might think you hide behind what you show the world, but I know the real you." I refused to take it further there, in front of the other men. I turned to Two Case. "I'm going back to my room, unless you intend to hold a gun to my head again any time soon?"
Two Case shook his head and held one hand up. "No, ma'am."
"Good." I turned on my heel and marched out the door before the tears could escape.
When I finally closed the door to the room I shared with Crank behind me, I collapsed and let the sobs come. He still cared. I knew it. He showed it in the moments his guard was down. But whatever obstacle he had decided lay between us, he seemed determined to keep it there. How did I stand a chance against that?
Pain made me want my mom, but my instincts warned me away from calling her. She would be glad to hear from me, of course, but she wouldn't understand how I could care so much for a man who kept pushing me away. Her advice would be simple. Forget him and find a decent man to settle down with. As if that were even possible.
The thought of her words of wisdom prompted an idea, though. What if Crank thought I had given up on him? Would he simply accept and go away? Or would he fight for what he really wanted and needed? The risk was too huge to even consider trying it, but I filed it away for the future, in case nothing else worked.
Melissa. Maybe she would have an idea. I dried my tears, blew my nose, and splashed cold water on my face. Annoyed with the damage the crying jag wrought on my makeup, I washed the rest of it off. It failed to do its job anyway. Finally, somewhat composed, I made the call.
She answered on the first ring. "Are you okay? Jackie said you were sick? What's wrong? Why didn't you call me? Did things go okay with the biker?"
The flood of questions finally ended, allowing me to reply. "I'm not sick. And it was amazing until last night." I told her, trying to hold more tears back. It felt good to share with someone, but it hurt, too.
"Oh, honey. I'm sorry. I so hoped it would be different." My best friend's quiet words of comfort helped. "Tell me his name. I'll make his life a living nightmare."
A small laugh escaped. "No, you don't have to do that. I just need to figure out how to get through to him." So typical of Melissa to want to beat up anyone who hurt me.
"You really care for this guy that much?"
"Mel, I think I love him." And there it was. The 'L' word, given life by the act of speaking it. "I don't know what to do."
"Does he feel the same for you? I mean, I know you said he talked about a future, and growing old together, but that could just be blowing smoke. Some guys will do that." From her tone, she thought that's exactly what Crank had done.
"I think he does." Did he really? Or had it all been a fairy tale designed to get him whatever he wanted from me? "I don't know."
"Well, that's the first question you have to answer. Then you'll know how to go forward." We talked longer, about Crank and the things he had said to me, and about possible ways to determine how he really felt. "Bitch, I have to go for now, have to leave for a visit. Call me tonight if you can, and you can catch me up on your progress."
The whole situation with Lanea flashed through my mind. "I'm not sure when I'll be able to call. I don't want to while he's around, just in case he overhears." The excuse sounded lame.
"Don't wait too long. I want to hear more. And Sarah?"
"Yes?"
"You take care of yourself. Don't let this guy hurt you again."
"I'll try." Too late.
We said goodbye, and I sat there on the bed, trying to compose myself. It was only early afternoon, and exhaustion already tugged hard at my mind. Despair weakened my resistance, and I lay back to close my eyes and rest a moment. Maybe a twenty-minute power nap would refresh me, and allow me to face the rest of the day.
I woke, groggy and confused, to a pitch-dark room and the sound of the door rattling as someone opened it. Fear flooded my mind, and I stayed still, frozen in helplessness. The gun Crank gave me sat in my bag on the other side of the room, useless against the intruder.
The door opened, and faint light silhouetted a male form in the frame for just a second before he closed it soundlessly.
My heart pounded in my throat as I searched my mind for some defense. Why hadn't he turned on a light? Surely a random burglar would want to know what he picked up?
But what if he wasn't there to steal anything? Could Sennit have tracked me down and sent someone to kill me? Yes. Definitely, yes. A killer might not need light.
I struggled to listen, every sound magnified. Water dripped in the bathroom. A muffled TV played in the next room. My own breathing was harsh and rapid.
And someone else breathed calmly, not at all shaken by the darkness.
Crank:
Sarah's phone went to voice mail for the fifth time. "Fuck." I turned toward Two Case. "I have to go, man. Something's wrong with Sarah. She's not picking up." The effort to keep the panic out of my voice left my hands shaking.
"It's all good, man. She's probably in the shower or something, but you should check anyway. Nothing going on here now, anyway."
I left, relying heavily on my martial arts training to regulate my fucking heart rate. Damn thing wanted to pound straight out of my chest. I normally wasn't the sort to be spooked in any kind of situation, but going around the side of that rundown motel in the waning light broke a fine sweat over my whole body.
What the fuck would I do if something had happened to Sarah? Hell, for all I knew, she just got sick of my shit and left on her own. Or she could have gone to Sennit to try and take care of things herself, and save Lanea any more trauma. Good thing she hadn't heard what went on this afternoon. I would never shake the sound of that girl's sobs when that motherfucker raped her.
I tried to put the worst case scenario out of my head, but it refused to leave me the fuck alone. A noise across the parking lot had me pulling my gun, but it turned out to be a fucking cat scrabbling at the dumpster. A deep breath did nothing to settle my damn nerves. What if Sennit had figured shit out and sent his thugs after her?
I was a fucking idiot to leave her alone like that, defenseless. I frantically calculated the time since she left Two Case's room. Over six hours. They could have taken her anywhere in that amount of time. When I finally reached the room, it lay in pitch darkness, not even the bathroom light left on.
Nothing moved in the dark room. Fuck. Where was she? All the crazy shit kept running through my head. Had she gone home despite the risk to her safety? Or had my stupidity chased her away? The possibilities brought more sweat to my forehead, even though I tried to keep my shit together.
Then I heard it. Rapid, shallow breathing. Someone else was in the room, and scared. "Sarah?"
"Crank? Is that you?" Her shaky voice weakened my muscles with relief.
I found the light switch and the dim lamp in the corner came on. "You okay?"
She clutched the blanket up under her chin, but when she saw me, she relaxed visibly, and sat up. "Yes, I am now. You startled me."
"I got worried, and your phone kept going to voice mail." Fuck me. I was a fucking idiot. I crossed to the bed and sat by her. "I'm fucking sorry I was such a douchebag." I wrapped her into my arms, determined to never let her go again, no matter what.
"I'm sorry, I fell asleep." My shoulder muffled her words. "And yes, you were a douchebag." She pulled back enough to look up at me, searching my face. "What happened? Why did you change like that?"
How the fuck could I explain something that seemed so logical at the time, but sounded fucking stupid now? "Would you believe I'm a fucking idiot?"
Her soft chuckle warmed me with relief. "I would, but I know you're not."
"You might not be ready to hear this." Fuck, would she judge me, and decide she didn't want me after all?
"Give me a chance, Crank." Her voice cracked a little. "I need to know what happened."
Fuck me, but I told her. All of it. The football coach she was supposed to marry, the kids she was supposed to have, and the way the MC life chewed good women up and spit them out. "Sarah, I would rather hurt you now, lose you now, than to see you hurt by my life. You deserve the best of everything, and I'm not the man who can give you that." The more I said, the more pissed she looked. I was talking myself into a fucking big, deep hole. "I'm sorry for all of it. I never intended to hurt you."
She sat there in silence for a long fucking time. "I don't even know what to say." She looked up at me, eyes full of anger. "But I think I have the right to choose my own future. The last I heard, women were no longer treated like property or livestock in this country."
Damn. I fucked up. Bad. "I'm sorry. I thought I was doing what was best for you." I had no other fucking defense.
"I know you did. But how about you consult me the next time you want to decide something that effects my life?" She sighed a little, and tightened her lips, as if she wanted to say more, but held it in. "Crank, I know this is new to you. It's new to me, too. I don't know how this happened. It's overwhelming, and I have no idea how to process it. But I do know if we don't talk, we can't make it work."
