Hunted (Steel Kings MC Book 4) Read online

  Hunted

  Steel Kings MC - Book 4

  Jamie Garrett

  Copyright and Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by Jamie Garrett

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law. All requests should be forwarded to [email protected].

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  Cover design by The Final Wrap.

  Editing by Jennifer Harshman, Harshman Services.

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  Contents

  1. Rachel

  2. Rachel

  3. Griffin

  4. Rachel

  5. Griffin

  6. Rachel

  7. Griffin

  8. Rachel

  9. Griffin

  10. Rachel

  11. Rachel

  12. Griffin

  13. Rachel

  14. Griffin

  15. Griffin

  16. Rachel

  17. Griffin

  18. Rachel

  19. Griffin

  20. Rachel

  21. Griffin

  22. Griffin

  23. Griffin

  24. Rachel

  25. Griffin

  26. Rachel

  27. Rachel

  28. Rachel

  29. Rachel

  30. Griffin

  31. Rachel

  32. Griffin

  33. Rachel

  34. Griffin

  35. Rachel

  36. Griffin

  37. Griffin

  38. Rachel

  39. Rachel

  Also by Jamie Garrett

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  1

  Rachel

  Rachel had no idea why she’d expected him to ring the doorbell. That would have been civilized, even polite. Gabriel had never been either. It had taken only seconds for the thin wooden framing of the door on her rental apartment to give way, giving her precious seconds’ warning that she’d squandered with puzzlement over what the noise was. She’d grown lax over the last month, gotten used to making it through the day without living in fear every moment.

  That had been a mistake.

  She’d finally done it, fitted her entire life in a small suitcase and ran. It was all she’d been able to pull together when the moment to flee presented itself, but it had also been a final act of self-preservation. Maybe he’d be just that little bit less mad at her if she only took the bare essentials. She’d left the jewelry, cash, anything of value. That would only give him an excuse to call the cops on her, something she was a little surprised he hadn’t tried. She’d heard the rumors, even the occasional press report from a curious reporter who’d managed to get past both his entourage and excuses. His wife was expecting, he said, and was experiencing troubling symptoms, as women often do in early pregnancy. She was resting out of the public eye. She was undergoing medical treatment at some far-off clinic. She was visiting family. Tonight, it looked like Gabriel had finally run out of excuses.

  His eyes met her gaze. He still hadn’t moved from the front door, both of them frozen in the spaces they’d been standing when he’d kicked in the door. He was alone, which was very unlike Gabe, but he wouldn’t have wanted an audience. Not for this. For a fleeting moment, Rachel wondered if she could reach a knife in the kitchenette she was standing in before he reached her. Unlikely. She had the beginnings of a baby bump and wasn’t as swift on her feet as she’d once been. Gabe was tall and fit. He’d be on her before she took a single step.

  It was why she’d fled in the first place, when he’d finally lost his temper that first time. Who was she kidding? It wasn’t the first time he’d lost his temper, or the tenth. Probably not even the hundredth, but it had been the longest stretch of calm she’d experienced since they’d first gotten married. Gabe had been perfect, at first. The attentive, doting husband. There had been warning signs, of course. There always were, but Rachel hadn’t noticed them until it was far too late. He’d wanted to make sure he knew where she was going, but that just made sense. He was a high-profile lawyer already on the path for a federal senate seat. With his connections, it was considered all but inevitable. He needed to know where she was, he explained, so that he could keep her safe. His job made enemies, and she was his most precious possession. The first time he’d said those words, she’d smiled. It was cute, how much he valued her. The very idea now made her shudder. But back then, she hadn’t noticed all the little things, the little freedoms eking away. At first, she had to call in. Then Gabriel officially threw his hat in the ring for a senate seat, and a bodyguard appeared by her side. It wasn’t until she made an unscheduled stop to visit a friend and Gabe questioned her about it over dinner that night that Rachel’s senses had started tingling. By the time they were screaming at her, it was too late. She was a prisoner in her own home, a pampered princess with a housekeeper, a cook, and a driver; all doing what Gabriel Aaronson told them to do. She couldn’t walk out the front door without him knowing about it, and there was a severe price to pay if anything wasn’t up to his standards, including her.

  Until the day she’d told him she was pregnant. She’d been scared putting off even investigating the cause of her sudden tiredness and nausea until one particularly severe beating after she’d fallen asleep on the couch late in the afternoon and hadn’t been “presentable” when he came home. He’d forced her to go to the doctor so she could get herself straightened out and back to what was expected of her. Perhaps she’d been denying it, refusing to think of the obvious. Gabe had always made it clear how much he hated small children. They were loud, messy, and entirely untrainable: everything he hated. She had an iron deficiency, maybe her thyroid. Either way, the doctor would give her a pill and send her on her way.

  She’d sat staring into space for what seemed like hours but in reality had only been a few seconds before the doctor gently tapped her on her arm, regaining her attention. The rest of the appointment had passed in a blur of pamphlets and a script for folate and prenatal vitamins. It wasn’t until the ride home when Rachel’s anxiety had started to build. A little fluttering in her stomach at first, then her heart started beating in her ears. By the time Gabe walked in the house that evening, she felt as if she was going to slide down the wall she was leaning on for support. She was immaculately dressed, dinner ready and on the table: his favorite. She’d told him the truth immediately when he’d finally gotten around to asking how her day went. There was no way she could have hidden it—his “bodyguard” had followed her right to the drug store desk. She’d braced herself, but instead he’d taken a breath, put down his silverware, and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Then he’d simply said. “Good, good. That’ll be a good angle . . .” before standing and walking away, cellphone already at his ear. Meanwhile, she slumped in
her chair, her breath heaving in and out of her as if she’d run a marathon as her hands shook with the adrenaline dump. Could it really have been that simple? It seemed the answer was yes.

  And it was. For nearly two whole months, until one night Gabriel didn’t like how she’d cooked the potatoes. They went hurtling toward the freshly cleaned walls, followed by his wine glass, followed by his hand across her face. It was never a fist, but an open-handed slap. He was old-fashioned that way. It was then she’d known, with instant and startling clarity. She was never going to be safe, and neither was her child. She had to leave, before he beat the very life from her or their baby. It had taken several weeks, but one day she’d managed to slip out, offering to join the housekeeper on an impromptu outing to pick up supplies. She’d hopped in the front seat of the van used by staff, grabbing her small overnight bag she’d stashed in the hall closet, before security staff realized she was leaving the premises. Twenty minutes later, the housekeeper’s arms full of parcels they’d picked up, she’d offered to run across the street and pick up their standing order of fresh flowers. Once inside the store, she ran out of the back entrance as soon as the saleswoman’s back was turned for half a second, and she hadn’t stopped running since.

  And now Gabriel was standing only two feet away, his chest heaving with anger even though his eyes were cold and dark. He took a step forward, and she lunged desperately for the knife block, but before her fingers could wrap around her salvation, the first blow hit the back of her head, and she fell to the floor.

  2

  Rachel

  The world was hazy when it returned. A gentle swaying was rocking her back and forth, and she panicked. Was she lying in Gabriel’s arms? The first time she’d come to after he’d hit her hard enough to knock her out, she’d come to lying on the floor, being rocked in her husband’s embrace, while he promised over and over that he wouldn’t do it again. Of course, he had. Had she believed him them? She wasn’t sure, but it hadn’t taken long for the reality to set in. Of course he’d do it again. Men like him always did. She’d been an idiot not to see it. Gabriel was right on one thing. She wasn’t to be trusted. How could she trust her judgment on anything when she didn’t see his true nature until his fist was swinging toward her face?

  His words raced through her head, the ones he’d yelled as his fists had met her body even as she curled up on herself. She’d taken the blows as they’d rained down on her back, her legs, her spine. Anything to protect her child. He’d grown tired of his mistress, it seemed. Selene. At least she still had the body for it, he’d spat in an attempt to upset Rachel, but people were beginning to ask questions, and she was his wife, damn it! It was her job to be at home, making him look like the family man he needed to be, and not running all over the damn county. Selene. She was treated better than Rachel ever was. At least it seemed that way to her. Many nights when Gabriel had been out with his mistress, Rachel had wished he would leave her and take up with Selene permanently. But what sort of monster was she, wishing this life on another woman?

  Something sharp pierced her flesh, and she flinched away from the pain only to discover she was restrained. Her heart rate spiked as she struggled to get away, and an incessant beeping met her ears. A soft touch ghosted over her arm, and Rachel froze. Gabriel didn’t touch her like that, even right after he’d beaten her senseless, not anymore. The days of pretending he was sorry were long over.

  “Shh, ma’am. Just relax. I’m putting in an IV to give you some fluids. We’ll be at the hospital soon.”

  The voice was that of a stranger, but still, it was comforting. A hand patted her on the arm lightly again before covering her wrist to hold her hand steady. Rachel’s eyes flew open. She was in an ambulance. She’d figured out that much, but was Gabe with her? The voice of the stranger was deep, and Gabe wouldn’t tolerate another man touching her, even like this. Not when he was in one of his “moods.” She had to look, so she could figure out how much trouble she’d be in later. “My husband,” she cringed at the raspiness of her voice. “Where is he?”

  The paramedic frowned. He was older than her, likely in his forties or early fifties. His face was still young, but the skin around his eyes crinkled at his expression and his neat, dark beard had flecks of gray. “The tall man, wearing the dark blue suit?”

  She nodded, but something stopped her movement, and she winced. Damn, her neck was sore. The paramedic’s hand moved from her wrist to her forehead, lightly pressing down. “Try not to move, ma’am. You have a head injury and were unconscious for a time, and so we need to clear your c-spine before we can let you up.” The hand returned to hers, cradling her hand as he inserted the IV while he continued to talk. “He arrived just as we were loading you, and so my partner told him to meet us at the hospital.”

  Of course Gabriel had found a way to make it look like he’d only just arrived. She startled, trying to whip her head around behind her. A violent pain wrenched through her neck seconds before she remembered. The paramedic’s frown deepened, and Rachel forced herself to lie still before he decided to sedate her. She couldn’t risk that. Not when her chance of escape might not be as hopeless as she’d assumed. This was it, though, her last chance. If she blew this moment, then the whole thing was over, and she’d be back in Gabriel’s hands, where she’d be either a zombie or dead. Either option was entirely possible. After this, it wouldn’t take him much to convince a psychiatrist to drug her permanently.

  Rachel reached for the man’s hand, trying to make a connection with him in the only way she could, strapped down to the gurney. He had to understand, or it would all be lost. “My husband,” she gasped. “Don’t let him back.” She locked eyes with the paramedic, all remaining fog clearing suddenly as a fresh bolt of adrenaline surged through her. “When we get to the hospital, don’t let him back to the ER. I don’t want to see him.”

  Understanding and sadness flashed into the paramedic’s gaze, and his grip tightened briefly on her hand. The moment was quick, and Rachel almost thought she’d imagined it, but in those few seconds, it was as if a silent understanding passed between them. The world still zipped past as the ambulance flew down the streets outside, but in the back of the vehicle, it was just the two of them, with her finally confessing what she’d been so scared to ever put into words and someone finally believing her. Finally! He nodded. “I understand, ma’am. I’ll make sure the hospital staff know.”

  Know about her wishes? Know that her husband had beaten the crap out of her? Rachel didn’t know, and in that moment didn’t care. She sagged back against the gurney. Her baby was safe for another few precious seconds. Now she just had to figure out what the hell she was going to do next.

  3

  Griffin

  Shakespeare glanced up from his computer screen when Doc stuck his head into the room Griffin had claimed as a makeshift command center. Jasper’s face was awash in the blue glow from Griffin’s multiple computer screens, making the fit and healthy man look like a weird cross between “about to throw up” and some sort of space alien. Griff rolled his eyes. He’d been in front of a screen too much lately. If he wasn’t searching what felt like blindly at times for wherever the Jokers had gone to ground, he was watching Sci-Fi movies until well into the early hours in an attempt to quiet his racing mind.

  Lately, even his old favorites were no longer working. His brain had always raced. “Gifted” had been thrown around a lot when he was younger, his parents using it as an excuse it seemed, to try to force him onto the path of the academic. That had just been as boring as hell. He’d graduated college at barely twenty, thanks to an accelerated course. That had been easy, thank God, as he’d hated every minute of it. Sitting around in stuffy meetings, working on formulas to keep buildings upright or some stupid stock market equation to help the rich get richer. No thanks. He’d rather throw himself out the window of a tenth-floor office than ever be stuck in one for the rest of his life. The feeling of the world speeding by as he took a tight corner on
his baby, now that was living. And hacking. That was fun, and enabled him to make a living, enough to buy parts for his bike and a meal in his belly. His parents disapproved, of course, but Griffin didn’t care. The Steel Kings were his family now, and he gave back by using his skills to keep money in the coffers and, lately, everyone safe.

  Doc cleared his throat, and Griffin frowned. Damn it, the man was still there. What was he after? Unlike their medic, he wasn’t the one you called on in an emergency. He wasn’t hands on, more like got in the way and got himself shot, which is what happened last time the Jokers had gotten up in their faces. Sitting in a dark room, hunting them through the maze of the dark web, until he found where the little fuckers were hiding. That he could definitely do. He would have thought so, at least. But more than a month later, he still had zip, and so Doc needed to go away and let him concentrate.

  “There’s a girl,” Jasper’s voice broke the silence again, but this time, Griff listened. The last time Doc had come to him for help, it had been Doc’s own old lady. Ava, one of the strongest women he’d ever met—despite her small size. That woman was fierce, a momma bear protective of her cub with her life, whatever it took. The Jokers had kidnapped Ava’s child when she had gotten in the way between the brewing war between the two clubs in her role as an ER physician. He’d been put on immediate high alert: find out where the girl had been stashed, and shut down another tentacle of the Jokers’ smuggling ring at the same time. In among the chaos, another bombshell had dropped. The kidnapped child was Doc’s flesh and blood, his daughter. The club would have gone in swinging for any woman or child in danger regardless, but Griff had first seen their medic, just hours after his child had been taken. Dude had been scary as fuck. Jasper was usually easygoing, mild mannered you might almost call him. No, that night that unleashed a warrior, a man who would walk through fire to bring his family back out the other side. Shakespeare had been proud as hell to be a small part of that, but now it looked like perhaps the whole fucked-up situation was happening again.