Forever Faith: A Biker Romance Page 6

  I finish breakfast and prepare to head out again when my new best friends, the two deputies on the case walk in. I don’t get excited thinking that they have good news, because I know they have nothing. If anyone will turn up something, it will be me and my guys. These two are worthless. What a waste of taxpayers’ money.

  “We have been getting some complaint calls about Horsemen threatening and scaring the life out of people. I know you are all worked up about things right now, but you have to reign it in a little bit.”

  “Are you charging me?”

  “No. Just a request.”

  “Then fuck off. Get out of here and do your job.”

  I leave with a couple of Horsemen to start the day’s hunt. All of the other club business has been put on hold. I know that the guys need to earn, and I have to free them up from hunting for Faith soon so they can get back to business, but I won’t stop until I find her. As I ride, my mind tries to torture me with pictures of Russell forcing her to marry. She could be carrying his child. Maybe by time I find her, she won’t want to be found. Her entire upbringing has been about getting married and having kids. She may have settled into her new life already. I feel so much guilt over this girl. I should have taken off with her somewhere to keep her out of Malone’s reach. My mind pictures them together. I see her belly round with his child. I fucking hate this.

  Late in the afternoon, the call finally comes. Lucky, who stayed at the clubhouse today, calls my cell. I pull over and listen as he gives me the news that the guys have the truck. Not Malone’s, but the truck they took off in. We found out a week or so back that it belonged to one of the little punks in Malone’s crew who has been MIA since that day. Finally! I instruct the guys not to move but not to let him or the truck out of their sights, and we fly down the highway in their direction. Finally!

  “You lay out the story and let us know everything and where we can find Russell and the girl, and you are free to go once we confirm it,” I say to this little shit, Jacob. He is a skinny, nervous piece of shit, as he has about ten guns pointed at him.

  “Save yourself, man. Give it up.” My patience is quickly running out and I feel myself losing it. If he doesn’t start talking, I am wasting him now. Just to think of him driving away while my girl was screaming, and I’m sure she was begging for help.

  “Alright. Alright. Just lower the guns, and I will tell you,” he says, almost crying.

  “No. Start talking or we start shooting.”

  “Ok. I drove them. Russell gave me no choice! I’m sorry! I can tell you where they are staying. That is, if they are still out there. I haven’t been back since that day.”

  He tells us where the house is, and we take off, leaving three of the guys with him. Where he can hear me, I instruct them to wait for my call to either let him go or kill him. But everyone except dumb fuck Jacob knows he is a dead man either way. I will gladly pull the trigger if no one else wants that on their record.

  It takes us well over an hour to reach the old farmhouse. We shut down and roll in quietly to be sure Malone doesn’t hear us. I am concerned that it is a dead end when I see Malone’s truck, and no other vehicles are in sight. The place looks deserted.

  We all descend on the house kicking open doors and going room to room. I call out her name, but no answer. After a quick search behind every door and every closet, it is clearly too late. I will kill Jacob for lying. As I turn to leave the master bedroom, I spot handcuffs on the floor by the bed. They may be gone now, but I know they were here. I pick up the handcuffs and head outside with the guys, showing them the cuffs. We are standing around talking about the situation. Everyone has lit a cigarette, and we throw out our own theories. No electricity, of course, means nothing in the old fridge. No other signs that someone was ever here. Walking around the outside of the house, hoping to find a clue or some shit, I see the old-fashioned, wooden double doors that lead to the basement. These old places all have an outside entrance to the cellar. My adrenaline spikes, as there is still a glimmer of hope I will find her. We all jump to the door to pull it open, but there is a chain and padlock keeping it locked shut.

  Instead of being old and rusty, the chains and lock look brand new. Fuck me! She is in there. I send up my first prayer since I was a little kid. Please, God, let her be alive. Don’t let me be too late.

  It takes less than a minute to break the lock and get in there. The only light is the sun coming in through the now-open door. I have to stoop down to walk under such low ceilings. The smell is damp and musty. There are only old shelves with rows of dusty old Ball jars full of home-canned fruit and vegetables. One of the guys hands me a giant flashlight, and I try to shine it around every corner, looking for anything.

  When I see her, my baby, she looks dead. She is laying on some kind of old, filthy, narrow cot face down and completely naked. She doesn’t move when I yell her name. One of the guys that came down here with me takes the light and shines it on us as I reach her and try to turn her over. She moans and I feel so relieved that she is alive. Just barely. But she is alive.

  “Call fucking 911!” I yell, and try to move her straggly hair off her face to see her and bring her around. I suck in my breath when I can see, even in this dark space, that she has been badly beaten. Her face is almost unrecognizable. Swollen and discolored. She can’t wake up. I lower myself on the edge of the cot so I can hold her. I feel like I am unable to swallow. I never dreamed Malone would do something like this.

  He is a dead man. But first I will make him suffer.

  Jury returns to me and hands me a thin blanket.“Cover her up, Prez, and let’s get her out of here.”

  I try to wrap the blanket around her body and tuck in the end without causing her more pain. She doesn’t make a sound. She is lifeless. If it wasn’t for her earlier moan, I would think she was gone. Still hunched over, I am able to make my way up the few stairs and out into the sunlight. The guys have carried over an old, rotted picnic table for me to lay her out on. I hate them staring at my girl. I don’t want anyone to see her like this.

  “Did someone call 911?” I say.

  “Yes, Prez. They’re on their way.”

  I feel helpless to do anything. What is taking so fucking long? We need to be doing something for her. I study her face. She is a bloody mess. She is filthy and covered in dirt. Her lips are broken with dried blood on the top and bottom lip. There is dark swelling on every inch of her cheeks, forehead and chin. I see now that the matting I felt when I pushed her hair off her face is blood. Every inch of skin that is showing above the blanket is purple and blue. Her neck, her shoulders, everything I can see. He didn’t miss a spot. We can’t put her on a bike, and bikes re all we have here.

  “Where the fuck are they?” I yell. Are we going to just sit around and watch her life slip away?

  Some of the guys are on their phones. I don’t know if they are following up on our ambulance or if they are checking in to let everyone back at the clubhouse know.

  Finally, off in the distance, I hear sirens. I remember how far out we are, and now understanding why it is taking so long for help to get here.

  Both a male and a female paramedic jump out to help Faith. A second ambulance pulls up, along with our buddies from the sheriff’s office. The additional paramedics come to help with the girl. They say they are not certain if her being unconscious is drug-induced or what at this time. I honestly had not thought of that. Fucking Malone. The four paramedics are all working at once on Faith and I can only stand back helplessly. The blanket is lowered so they can listen to her heart. I hear one of them say her pulse is too weak. I watch as they move the stethoscope around her chest, and see that her breasts are covered with bruises as well. I feel sick to my stomach when, near her underarm, one of the paramedics points out bite marks.

  They have rolled a stretcher over and prepare to move her from the table to the stretcher and I say I will move her. They assure me I will possibly do more damage so I relent and let them do their job.
They remove the blanket from her body and I see what looks like lashes with a whip or a belt across her back and her bottom. The cop is standing there, taking it all in, and he looks as sick as I feel. The other cop is taking photographs of the basement door and area. I walk to the ambulance and see her safely tucked in for transport with the woman paramedic and one of the men paramedics riding in the back with her.

  The cop taking photos approaches me as we mount up to follow the ambulance in. He starts to make some noise about keeping cool heads, and I let him know he is wasting his time taking pictures. This motherfucker will never live to stand trial.

  The emergency area is chaotic once Faith is brought in. A hospital employee approaches us for information and asks for Faith’s parents or spouse. I walk up to her and lie that I am her husband. I tell her there is no insurance and I will be paying cash. The interesting thing, which I even surprised myself with, is that I have carried her ID in my wallet since that first day. I agreed everything was correct except that her last name had changed since marrying me. She walks off, satisfied with all of her findings. I continue to wait for an update from behind the closed doors. We have been joined by several of the women from the club now, as well as the cops. Our little group is taking up all of the space in here. Guys are going in and out for a smoke, but no one wants to leave until they know Faith is going to be okay.

  Finally, a doctor comes out and asks for me. It isn’t good news. This little hospital is not equipped to deal with the severe injuries Faith has. They plan to move her by helicopter to the city within the hour. He says it is urgent that she get the care offered there if she is to survive.

  I tell him to do whatever it takes. Just don’t let her die. I ask to ride with her in the helicopter, knowing it will take me three or four hours to get there, but I am refused. Only patient and staff are allowed. We wait patiently for the medical transport to arrive and take her. The doctor invites me in to see her before her flight, knowing it will be a while before I make it to the new hospital. What he left unsaid was that I should see her for what is maybe the last time, in case this is goodbye.

  I have never been so gutted. She is pale beneath her bruises under the white sheet. She has tubes in her arms and in her nose. There are some kind of electrode things on her head. I take her small hand in mine and can only say, “I’m so sorry,” over and over. She has to come through this.

  We begin making our journey down the hallway and onto the elevator. When we exit the elevator to the helipad area, I see my brothers and all the ladies waiting to see her take off. The nurse tells me this is it, and they will see me in a few hours, but I don’t want to let go of her hand. The new team dressed in blue aviation jumpsuits and looking nothing like doctors or nurses take over, pushing the gurney towards the door. I have no choice as I bend down and tell her I love her and softly kiss her battered lips.

  I watch as they wheel her up the ramp onto the helicopter. She looks so tiny on the big hospital gurney. The doors close as the blades begin to rev up. I turn back as the helicopter lifts off the pad and see not a dry eye in the place, making me feel a lot better about the shape I’m in. I walk past all of them without a word. I’m ready to get riding as quick as I can, and I hear the determined steps of several boots following behind me.

  Determined to get to her as quick as possible, I pause in the parking lot to have a little impromptu club meeting. Ladies included. I let them know that I should be hunting down Malone, but I have to see Faith through this first. Malone can wait. I tell them that no one has to come to the hospital to hang around. It is my personal business and not club business, when Jury’s old lady says, “She’s ours too.”

  So I say, “Ok, do what you feel like doing. I will be in touch every day until I bring her home.”

  Diesel says what he would like to do is take out Malone but I stop him. This one is mine. He says he put a bullet in dumbass Jacob’s head, and has taken care of that problem already. I tell everyone to stay on their toes. If this is a kidnapping case, the cops may involve the feds. We don’t need that shit to blow back on our club business.

  I take off with five of the guys. The six of us push the bikes to eat up the miles until we make it to the hospital. I learn quickly that the “team” has finished her work up and she is resting comfortably in ICU. They instruct me to sit in an area and wait for the doctor to update me. I don’t want to wait. I need to see her again. I am pacing when the doctor shows his face.

  The guys close in on us as he begins to tell me in detail about her injuries. Concussion, fractured ribs, bruises, cuts, stitches—my mind is spinning and I am literally blind with anger. He says she tested positive for drugs and feels her being unconscious was a combination of the powerful drugs as well as her body shutting itself down from the pain and trauma. His final comment was the only snippet of good news. She has several injuries and a lot of bruising on her inner thighs and groin area, but she has not been raped. No penetration at all. Then he says “ever” and stares me down. I think he knows I am lying about being her husband, but pity or whatever makes him let it go. All we can do now is wait.

  So we wait. Night turns into day and then into night again. Horsemen and various women from the club come and go. I stay. I never leave. Finally, on day three I think, someone brings me fresh clothes. I shower and feel better. I am only allowed to sit by her bed for a few minutes a few times a day. ICU has its own set of rules, I guess. I am sitting outside the door whenever I am not in the room with her. A few times, the nurses have brought me a hospital meal. And of course, the club ladies bring food every time they come.

  Every time a staff member enters or leaves her room they update me on what they were doing. Drawing blood, checking her temp, STD test, pregnancy test, and more. I wonder why on those last two if she wasn’t raped? How did that sick fuck not rape her? Was the doctor lying to me? I don’t care. I just want her back. I just want her pain to go away.

  After examining Faith, the Dr. stops by me to update me. He is growing concerned that she hasn’t woken up yet, and he has scheduled additional brain scans. I ask him about the other tests and he says it was just a routine precaution and she definitely has not been penetrated, looking at me a little too hard. If we are married, why would that be true? He can fuck off.

  It’s getting late again and I am starting to doze off in my hard-as-fuck chair again, when the nurse tells me it is okay to go in her room again. I have been living for these words for the last few days. I feel like it is going to be ok and she is going to come back to me when I can see her and touch her.

  The room is dark and silent except for the soft beep of her machines. She lays so still. I move my chair up to the bed and kiss her hand as I take it.

  “It’s me, Baby. Please come back to me. We won’t take it slow. We will do whatever you want to do. Just get better.”

  I lay my head near her chest, still holding her hand and fall asleep. I felt it coming on, but didn’t care enough to fight it. I know one of the nurses will be here soon to make me leave. I feel the barely-noticeable rise and fall of her chest as she sleeps. I try to match my breathing to hers. I sleep deeply for the first time in way too many nights.

  Her soft, gentle moving wakes me up. At first I thought I imagined it. But it was very real. She moved. For the first time. She moved.

  “Faith, Darlin’, can you hear me? Wake up, Baby. It’s Liam, honey. Wake up.”

  Standing now, I look down at her and see her eyes twitching and trying to open. This is it! Thank you, God.

  I have been told time and time again by the staff here to alert them if she shows any changes at all, but I can’t take my eyes off of her long enough to even press the call button. She seems to be struggling or fighting and I fear she may be reliving what she has gone through the past week. I keep assuring her that it is me, and she is going to be ok now, but I am not getting through. Her eyes are still not open but twitching frantically.

  Her body tries to lift off the bed and struggles to d
efend herself, but she is too weak. My heart breaks at this and I vow for the millionth time that Malone will pay for everything he has done. She is exhausting herself and I am actually glad to see the nurse rush in and take over. I was unaware the machines had been beeping and alerting the staff.

  I am disappointed when they put a sedative in her IV and say it is more important to keep her calm and let her injuries heal, especially her concussion. I have to hang on to the positive that she does seem to be coming back to us.

  They let me stay by her side instead of kicking me out, and I let my head lay on her chest again as I did before, and doze off.

  I don’t wake up until almost daylight. Bent over from my chair, I feel my age in my body as I try to straighten out. I look into my little angel’s face and she is staring at me with a sad smile on her face. At first I don’t know if she is awake or not, until a tear trickles out of the corner of her eye.

  “Hey, Baby. How are you?” I ask, and I am on my feet looking down into her face and not letting go of her hand while I search her features for any sign of pain.

  I try to stroke her hair back a little and she turns her head away from me.“What’s wrong, Baby? It’s me, Liam. I am so glad you are awake, sweetheart.”I try to make her face me, but it is only upsetting her more. I just stroke her as softly as I can and keep telling her that she is safe now and I will never let anyone hurt her again. I hear her sob and know she is crying in earnest now, and I feel as helpless as ever.