Hunted (Steel Kings MC Book 4) Read online

  “Makenna called,” Doc continued. “A contact of mine at the hospital. She’s friends with Ava. A woman was brought in with severe facial lacerations and bruising.” Griff was on his feet, gathering the essentials as Doc continued to speak. His brother didn’t need to ask the question. He was in. That was a given. “She hasn’t admitted it outright, not yet, but Makenna’s radar is up. Apparently, the woman asked for her husband not to be let back to the treatment area. Bastard is currently pacing through the waiting room, yelling at anyone who’ll listen about who the fuck he is and what he’ll do to their job.” Doc paused, catching Griff’s gaze. “He’s a big fish, Shakespeare, a really big one. Makenna’s not going to be able to hold him off forever. She wants us there, in case an emergency evacuation is necessary.”

  Griff nodded, sweeping up the last of his portable equipment and heading toward the door. It wouldn’t be the first time the Steel Kings had helped someone escape a violent situation, nor the first time the club had helped someone with no other options to just disappear, but something felt different about this one. Maybe it was just stress from the practically nonstop hours he’d been working the last month or two, but there was something in the air about this callout, something he didn’t like at all. He could only hope the woman would accept their help, admit to someone, anyone, what had really happened, and they could get her the hell out before the whole situation exploded.

  “Oh, and Griff,” Doc said, grabbing him on the shoulder as he passed. “She’s pregnant.”

  Well, shit.

  4

  Rachel

  The nice doctor with a sad smile rested her hand lightly on Rachel’s shoulder. Rachel’s back and legs were stiff from lying so long, and so she’d tried to sit up, but the wave of dizziness that had run through her had her sinking back down onto the pillow. She’d been scanned, more than once, stitched and bandaged, and now she just wanted to go.

  Who was she kidding? She had nowhere to go. Gabriel had found her hiding place. She could no more go back there, even to grab the small amount of possessions she’d managed to accumulate in the last few months, than she could waltz out the doors to the public waiting area. She had absolutely no doubt that he would be out there waiting for her. Actually, she was surprised as hell he hadn’t already barged his way through. Yes, she’d asked the EMT to keep him away, but Rachel knew what could be undone with the kind of money and status Gabriel had. People like him had barriers just melt away. She looked up at the doctor—Dr. Eckles, her lab coat read—did she know any more? “My husband . . .” she started to say.

  The hand on her shoulder patted her lightly, then Dr. Eckles drew up a chair beside the bed. “Rachel—can I call you that?—can we talk for a moment?”

  She nodded, confused. Her tests had all come back free of major injuries. Just a concussion, which should clear up in a couple of days, with rest. So what could she . . . oh, God! Her hands flew to her abdomen. Her baby!

  “Your baby is fine, Rachel. You’re okay.” She didn’t realize there were tears running down her face until the doctor spoke. They wetted her cheeks, stinging where they touched one of the many random scrapes and abrasions. The doctor’s face firmed, her mouth making a thin line as the smile gracing her expression before disappeared. “And you don’t need to worry about your husband. He won’t be coming back here.”

  “Doctor Eckles . . . ”

  The doctor reached for her hand. “Please, call me Makenna. Rachel, I need to ask you a question, and I hope you can trust me with the answer. Do I need to do a rape kit?”

  Rachel’s eyes grew wide as her heart pounded. There had been the occasional whisper between the staff, maybe even accusations in Gabriel’s past, there had to be, but no one had ever come right out and said it before. No one had ever accused him of ever being anything less than perfect. But rape? She looked down at the bed, her eyes sticking together from unshed tears. It hadn’t gone that far that night, as far as she knew anyway, her mind still hazy, but that hadn’t always been the case. Could it really be rape, though, if she’d let him, in the end? Many nights it had been easier to give in to his desires than to take what would have been coming to her if she’d said no. Sex with Gabriel wasn’t gentle, not by a long shot, but it was better than a black eye and a body covered in welts if she disobeyed him, if she denied him his “marital rights.”

  “Rachel?” Makenna’s voice jolted her out of her memories, and she squeezed the doctor’s hand in an attempt to quell the last of the shaking of hers. She’d done it. Escaped. Survived. She could do it again. “Rachel, did your husband do this to you?”

  Rachel summoned every ounce of courage she had left in her, and spoke. “Yes.” Then she burst into tears. The relief of finally saying it out loud, of admitting the truth, caught up with her in a rush. She wrapped her arms around her middle, both in an instinctive reaction to protect her child and also a visceral need to hold herself together. She looked up, catching Makenna’s gaze. “Please, help me. Don’t let him take me back again.”

  Makenna leaned forward and squeezed her hand again before jerking to her feet. “Give me fifteen minutes, Rachel. I’ll be right back.”

  The time after the doctor left the room passed strangely. At first, it was as if the minutes hung in the air, passing with ridiculous slowness, only to rush by when she took her eyes off the clock. Rachel’s anxiety rose as her gaze flipped between the clock and the door. Which should she watch? How could she take her eyes off either? Had Makenna told her to stay there only to keep her until Gabriel’s lawyers could work through whatever glorious red tape had kept him away thus far? What if she waited too long and missed her opportunity? She’d just pushed the blankets aside and swung her wobbly legs over the side of the bed when Makenna appeared. In her hands she held papers, a medication vial, and a hoodie. What was the point of the hoodie? Her puzzlement quickly turned to panic when a large man followed Makenna into the room. Tall and with a sleeve tattoo running down his left arm, he was scary as hell.

  Makenna must have sensed her sudden shot of fear as she moved quickly to the bed. “It’s okay, Rachel. He’s here to help. He’s a friend of mine.” She laid the hoodie down on the bed and handed Rachel the other two items in her hands. “Here’s your discharge instructions and some pain medication.” She gestured toward the man, who had kept his distance by the door. That made Rachel’s heart slow a little, until she turned toward them and she spotted the leather jacket he held in his hand. She led a sheltered life, but she wasn’t stupid. The insignia for a biker gang was emblazoned across it, the word “Doc” sewn on the front. Doc? Surely that had to be a coincidence. “And this is my friend, Jasper. He’s going to help you get where you need to be.” She picked up the hoodie, unfolding it, and a pair of sunglasses fell onto the bed. Without waiting for her to respond, Makenna stretched the hoodie and helped Rachel feed it over her head, then placed the sunglasses on her bruised face and pulled the hood up over Rachel’s hair, fussing for a moment with tucking it inside. After a minute, her ministrations done, she took Rachel’s hands again. “Go with him. He’ll keep you safe.”

  Barely managing to keep her mouth closed from the shock, Rachel turned toward the man still hovering by the door. He was everything she should fear: tall, muscular, and likely from the wrong side of the law. But Gabriel had been everything right, and look what hell she’d walked into there. At least here she had a choice. For the first time since the nightmare began, someone was holding out a hand. She was still scared of the biker man, but not as much as she was scared of Gabriel. If she refused this, then she’d be stuck in the hospital, a sitting duck just waiting for the slaughter. For the sake of her child and her own life, she had to do something if she was going to finally escape.

  She drew to her feet. “Okay. What do I do now?”

  5

  Griffin

  Griff looked over at the woman currently sound asleep against the window of Padre’s van. Her face was calm now, relaxed even, her mouth hanging open�
�just a little—as she slumbered. The expression on her face was completely different from how she’d first appeared. Nervous, and then seemingly downright scared as she’d walked further into the darkened parking lot toward the van. Doc’s friend Makenna had been with her, but the woman’s eyes had been filled with apprehension. She’d moved slowly, but then suddenly let out a little squeak and flinched when he’d opened the van’s door. He frowned at the memory, his forehead creasing. Damn, he hadn’t meant to scare her, just open the door for her, but he should have realized. From what Makenna had told Doc in the rushed phone call on their way, the woman—Rachel—had admitted to Makenna that her husband had been the one to hurt her, had been hurting her, over and over again for God knows how long.

  His grip tightened on the wheel, and Doc caught his gaze in the rearview mirror, the man’s face mirroring his own thoughts. A man who’d do this to a woman, a pregnant woman. He was scum. It was only Makenna’s insistence that they leave quickly and without a trace that saved Griffin from walking back into the hospital, finding the douche—because he’d bet the asshole was there—and showing him what a fair fight was. Well, it wouldn’t be fair, but the odds would be on the side they should be for a change.

  Rachel shuffled in her sleep, letting out a small cry of pain as she moved, and Griff forced himself to calm down. She’d been terrified at the sight of them, two tall bikers, both in good shape, and both wearing leathers. It wasn’t until Makenna had hugged both of them, the tiny woman standing on her tippy toes and throwing her arms around their necks, that Rachel had calmed down enough to get in the van without shaking. Griff had taken her hand to help her climb inside, marveling at the way her small, pale hand fit neatly inside his work-roughened palm. She’d held on to him just long enough to make it inside before she’d dropped her hand away. Seconds later, she’d looked up at him in fresh panic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to . . .” she’d stuttered.

  Griffin had taken a big step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “It’s fine. You’re fine.” He’d had to say it several times over before Rachel had finally stopped apologizing and shut the door to the van, dropping her eyes rather than look at him.

  Yep. Her husband was damn lucky Griff valued getting Rachel to safety more than exacting revenge. It was about time someone put her first, too. It was damn obvious her husband never had.

  She stirred as he turned the last corner and onto the gravel road that lead up to the Steel Kings clubhouse. He nodded to the sentry he passed, the one he saw, anyway. Until recently, they hadn’t bothered with external security. The Kings were well known in the area, and most people knew not to screw with them. That, and the location of the clubhouse had been reasonably private, hard to find unless you knew the specific road to take. That had all changed a couple of months ago, when the Jokers, a rival club, had kidnapped the daughter of a brother, in some kind of fucked-up retribution for their own attack on the Steel Kings home. They’d considered moving, argued about it even, but in the end, there was nowhere else big enough for all of them that was remote enough and could be secured with the speed required. And so they’d fortified the grounds, including prospects and members keeping watch 24/7. Merc had trained them, and they were doing a damned good job, only one even being visible as he’d turned up the dark road.

  “Where are we going?” Her voice was quiet but steady. Good on her for holding her own. She had to be damned strong to have lived through what she had, he knew that much. But tonight still had to have been one giant shock. Perhaps she’d fall apart later, when everything was all said and done. If so, he’d be there for her as long as she wanted.

  Tugging at the wheel to turn the last corner, he rolled his eyes at his own thoughts. Of course she’d be more comfortable with the women. Cali and Old Maggie could do more for her than he could right now. He was an idiot. “To our clubhouse,” he said, careful to keep his voice at the same level. Quiet. It was like speaking to a scared little rabbit, trying to approach it without making it run away. “You’ll be safe there, for as long as you want.”

  She nodded, her hand going to her mouth as she chewed on a fingernail. He smiled. She didn’t seem to be aware she was doing it, but from the neatly manicured nails on her hand, no doubt it was an action her husband would disapprove of. He could only hope she’d relax around him. The fact she’d fallen asleep on the drive over had meant nothing. Her body likely drained of adrenaline as soon as they’d cleared the hospital parking lot. She’d had a hell of a night. Sooner or later, your body was going to force you to rest, like it or not. He grimaced as he turned his shoulder to open his side door. He knew that as well as anyone. His shoulder was back to normal, normal enough that he could do everything he needed, but every now and then it would catch. Completely unexpectedly and with no pattern to it, but God it hurt like hell when it happened. At least the incidents were few and far between, now. He smiled. The injury had taken its damn time healing, but the club had supported him the entire way, and now it was his turn to pay it forward. He’d protect Rachel for as long as she needed it. All the Kings would. He’d find whichever brother she felt most comfortable with, whatever she needed.

  He walked around to her side of the van, slowly and carefully around the front of the vehicle so she could track his movements the entire time. After he was sure she knew where he was, he stepped forward and opened her door, then stepped back again quickly. He had enough experience with victims of abuse to know crowding her, getting too close, was the worst thing he could do. Instead, he held out his hand, palm up, praying for her to take it, to allow him to keep her safe. He kept his gaze on her, watching her for any reaction that told him to move further back. Instead, she smiled back. Griffin nearly fell over his own feet in shock.

  She was beautiful, there was no denying that, but even against the purpling of her cheekbone, the graciousness of her smile had him locked in place. Fuck keeping his distance, passing her case to another King. Something rooted him to the spot as he locked gazes with her as she took his hand. She was his to protect. No one else was laying a hand on her, ever. He’d make sure of that.

  6

  Rachel

  Rachel hovered in the doorway of the large building. She’d taken the second man’s hand—Griffin, he’d introduced himself as—when he offered it, to climb out of the van and she had yet to let go. His hold had been gentle but also reassuring, warm, and she’d reveled in the feel of it. It had been a long time since a man’s touch had been gentle. Even when Gabriel had been in a good mood, he’d always been rough. It turned him on, he’d said, if she struggled or resisted a little.

  Her cheeks burned at the memory. God, she’d been such an idiot. A naive little girl. There had been so many red flags, and she’d missed every one. She’d been raised in a close-knit family and sheltered from any potential danger or discomfort and then married after her parents had introduced her to Gabriel’s family. He was a good man, they said, going places. He’d be able to provide for her. He’d been comfortable, familiar, and oh so charming. Until the ring had slid onto her finger, and then he wasn’t.

  She looked up and met Griffin’s gaze. He was everything Gabriel wasn’t. His palm was rough against hers, the callouses of someone who worked hard. Hair touched his collar and was slightly long in front. His muscled body was clad in dusty denim and his leather vest. All things her upbringing taught her to despise, all things that should turn her off.

  But they didn’t.

  It had taken at least a month after finally leaving Gabriel before she stopped flinching every time a man suddenly appeared or something moved quickly in her peripheral vision. When she’d signed and filed the divorce papers, it had been freeing, even if it also been damned scary. But she’d lied to herself, denied what she should have known, if only to protect herself from a future she couldn’t bear to think about.

  Gabriel had never wanted children, and she sure as shit wasn’t asking him for alimony or child support. She would be happy to never speak to him again.
Despite being rich, he was a stingy bastard. Maybe he could be convinced to give up visitation rights in return for not having to pay a red cent. Maybe he’d even be able to deny the child was his at all. Rachel didn’t care what kind of lie he told or how it affected her reputation if it meant she and their child could escape. But of course it hadn’t worked that way. She didn’t love him anymore. That had stopped a long time ago, and she was pretty sure he’d never loved her. That didn’t stop him refusing to let her go, if only for petty pride.

  So she’d run, and hidden successfully for nearly two months. Long enough to start filing for divorce, maybe legal separation if the judge wouldn’t sign off while she was still pregnant. All that had done was leave her bruised and battered and on the run again.