Fork said nothing.
My father was an excellent judge of character with the most finely honed bullshit detector I had ever seen. As kids, we didn’t get away with squat without Dad finding out about it.
But even with that said, I had my doubts right now. I had zero idea whose side this man was truly on.
Time seemed to drag on and on and it was completely uncomfortable being taped, and in his arms waiting to find out what would happen next. My brain wouldn’t stop making me envision myself laid out in front of the clubhouse dead for my family to find. I thought of Jet. I thought of Kailey. I thought about the fact that my last conversations with all of my family members save Deacon had been arguments. Would I eventually be remembered as dead Miss August? Was that going to be my legacy?
Miss August from the Biker Babes of South Dakota Calendar found brutally raped and murdered, left naked in the parking lot of Deke’s Roadhouse.
***
I didn’t know how long we’d been driving, but it’d felt like it’d been almost all day. I had a headache. Those two in the front prattled endlessly and most people would’ve tuned them out or not paid much mind to what they said all that time, but I did my best to listen to every word they said. Information was all I had right now.
So far, I know that whatever is left of the old Jackals are swelling their numbers. They’ve recruited a few members from up north somewhere. An Ipswich and two Sioux Falls Jackals have recently got out of jail. There’s an established outlaw MC that the few remaining members have joined forces with. It just hasn’t been decided yet whether the Jackals are joining them, or if the Jackals will stay on their own and be a support club for the other club. They were also still deciding what city they’d be based out of. That was a point of debate for a while. I don’t know the name of this club, but I know the prez is named Eugene and there’s a chapter outside Deadwood but it’s not the mother charter. The guy in the passenger seat, the other guy calls “Unc”. Unc calls him ‘Kiddo’. I don’t know if they’re uncle/nephew or if Unc and Kiddo are their road names.
I also know that there’s something that they want that they think Fork is going to give them and my presence as ‘that asshole’s daughter’ is just a pleasant surprise. A few references were made to him ‘makin good’ on making shit up to them, though the older one said that I would definitely be well-received as contributing to that, which made me shudder.
When I shuddered, he pulled me closer and kissed my temple.
“Good way to stick it to that asshole prick,” Unc said. “Let him know we got her before he gets his.”
My blood ran even colder.
I’d already worked out in my head that if he’d come to the cabin with the intention of kidnapping me, he probably would’ve taken me somewhere last night. I now believed his reaction to their arrival was a genuine surprise and that he didn’t want them to know I was there.
But, this didn’t mean I’d survive if they had guns trained at us. This didn’t mean I wasn’t about to be raped, then murdered. Whether he was on our side or their side, my fate was uncertain. And uncertainty in a situation like this was a very, very bad thing, particularly given the Wyld Jackals track record.
I didn’t have a view of where we were going from the back of that van. We would’ve been there by now if we’d been heading back to Aberdeen, Ipswich, or Sioux Falls. We could be in Nebraska or one of the other neighboring states even.
8
My throat was dry, feeling like it was filled with dust. I was having trouble swallowing. And the panic hadn’t let up. I was immobilized and he was doing things that seemed like he was trying to settle me down, trying to convince me with an ongoing shower of affection that he was telling the truth and that he’d somehow miraculously protect me.
I wasn’t convinced, and it wasn’t calming me down.
His mouth kept dotting kisses along my hairline. What happened to him being the type who didn’t even kiss?
He stroked my arm, my jaw. He played with my hair. Took the hair tie out and put it on his wrist, then finger combed it for, forever…
And I couldn’t do or say a thing. I was just there, cocooned by him, my feet bare, my boots beside me, my ankles, wrists, and mouth taped.
I’d wanted, yearned even, for this man’s attention, affection. To lay in his arms and have him play with my hair? That would’ve been a fucking dream. But now that he was doing it, under these circumstances? Nightmare. I wanted nothing more than to be as far away from him and this situation as possible.
And these men? I couldn’t know for sure, but it was possible, even probable that these guys did it or at least this van was there – there the day my brother Rider got shot. It was a blue cargo van with damage on the side, which was what they unsuccessfully looked for after that because the van had been in a crash with Jenna’s car.
They killed Luke, killed Jet and Kailey, then tried to kill my brother, almost succeeding. They wanted to kill my father, but were excited that he’d know they got me before they did that.
The thought of all of that had me sagging in defeat. I didn’t know if he was a good guy or not, but I put my head on his chest and let myself weep. Let myself feel the comfort of his arms around me while I trembled and shook in his arms. That got me a soft forehead kiss and both of his arms around me tighter. He repositioned me a little and tucked my feet under his leg, leaving my knees bent and my body on its side. I craned my neck to look up at him questioningly.
He stared directly into my eyes and caressed my cheek again before lifting up the hem of his t-shirt and using it to dry my eyes for me. He did this tenderly. But his expression? Hard as stone. Stone cold. Like he was filled with wrath.
He reached for my boots, which were off to the side, and pulled them closer.
I saw him reach into my boot beside his hip and covertly slide a knife out of the inner pocket I usually used for cash, a bank card and my phone.
Oh.
Oh!
This was why he kicked my flip flops under my bed and made sure to bring these with him. He’d seen me use the inner pocket at The Roadhouse and stuck his knife in there while I was in the bathroom back in the cabin.
He palmed it to under his leg, making eye contact with me. My eyes moved to the guys in the front. I couldn’t see the driver, but he was singing along to a country song on the radio. I could see the profile of the passenger though, and he was playing a card game on his phone.
Fork’s hand worked underneath his knee and first caressed the tops of my feet in what would probably be a soothing manner if I weren’t in the state I was. And then I suddenly felt like I could move my feet.
He’d cut the tape. I managed to swallow. I stayed still.
“Gotta take a leak,” Fork muttered.
“Gotta piss, too,” the driver, Kiddo, said. “Pullin’ over.”
“Get to a truck stop. Ten miles southwest,” Unc told him. “Then we can get coffee and food. Plus, I’m down to two cigarettes.”
“Naw man, been holdin’ it for almost an hour. Two seconds,” Kiddo said. And pulled the van over.
“Do not touch her,” Fork said to Unc.
I needed to pee, too, but no one had asked, and I couldn’t communicate.