I didn't want Vince to hurry, but I did at the same time. I worried for him, but I worried for myself. Somebody had to come break this up, and fast. Every minute that ticked by pushed me one minute closer to the door opening and a dozen or more drunken bikers pouring in.
My heart raced. My palms were sweaty. My breath came fast and shallow. I was losing it.
Don't. A voice in my head broke through the haze of panic. It'll be all right. Control yourself. It sounded like Vince. I heard the commanding tone he took when he wanted his way. Even the thought of his voice made me feel a little better.
I hoped my memory card was still intact in the laptop. At least I might achieve some measure of fame posthumously. The last pictures taken by the photographer. The ones that got her killed. People were just morbid enough to want to see them. I'd become an internet sensation. The poor little girl who went out one night, caught a murder on camera, and fell in with a gang of bikers.
I remembered hearing a story from one of my aunts. She'd gone to school with a girl who was kidnapped by a biker gang not long after graduation. Her boyfriend or somebody was involved with them. They took her because they thought she stole from them-really, it was probably her boyfriend, but they had the wrong information. Her body parts were found all over the place afterward. A bolt of terror flashed through me. That would be me now. People would tell stories about me, saying they used to know me and wasn't it a shame for an innocent person to go through something so terrible.
Another bottle smashed on the floor just outside the door and I jumped. I was completely on edge, about to go overboard. It felt like they were deliberately screwing with me, though I knew I was probably the last thing on their minds. They thought they had won something against Vince and the club. From the looks of their headquarters, they didn't get many wins.
I closed my eyes, forcing myself to take deep breaths despite the urge to panic. I couldn't do that to myself. I had to stay in control or else I might go crazy with fear.
Breathe in … one, two, three, four … breathe out … one, two, three, four … The meditation class I took years before finally came in handy. I counted up and down, breathing along until my heartbeat calmed and my mind felt clearer. Everything would be all right.
Then, I heard a loud crash from the room outside the door and I panicked all over again. This time, it sounded serious. There were shouts and loud popping noises. Gunshots? I froze in panic. Police? No, I didn't hear any shouts that sounded like police commands.
Vince? Had he come for me? He must have brought an entire army from the sound of it. Where was Alexander? I hoped Vince had blown his head off.
The fighting went on for what felt like forever. It was torture not knowing what was happening thanks to the closed door. With every crash, I flinched. Furniture was breaking, bodies hitting walls. I thought I'd go crazy having to imagine what was happening.
At the same time, I didn't want to see. If Vince was there, and he had to be from the sounds of it, I would be too afraid to watch. My imagination was doing a good enough job filling in the blanks for me.
More crashes. Punches? Gunshots. I heard groans and screams and grunts. My eyes swept the room in a panic. What if a bullet came through the door? I couldn't even duck. I threw my weight from one side to the other, rocking the chair back and forth, hoping I would fall to the side. It would hurt, but it would be safer that way.
Then, the gunfire quieted. Somebody had won. Who was it? From the number of Wolves I'd heard partying, I was terrified that the Fury Riders were outnumbered. Even if Vince had brought every member of the club with him, he'd still be at a disadvantage. My heart was in my throat. The silence was more terrifying than the sound of fighting.
My eyes were glued to the door. Slowly, the knob turned. I held my breath, my heart racing as the door swung open … to reveal Vince.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. He was there! He'd saved me! And he looked fine, not a scratch on him. He rushed to my side, pulling the gag from my mouth.
"Oh, God, did they hurt you?" he asked, touching my face, my hair.
All I could do was shake my head. I was to overcome to speak.
"We got them," he said. "Everybody's okay." He bent to untie my ankles.
"What about the Wolves?"
"Most were shot. I don't know yet how many we killed-I told the guys to take care of the rest of them for me. I had to find you. I'm getting you out of here."
"Please hurry." I couldn't stand being in there for another minute. I would need three showers, maybe four, to clean the filth from me.
Vince worked on my wrists. "Hang on. Almost there." When the ropes fell away, my arms fell to my sides. I nearly screamed the pain was so bad. I must have pulled both shoulders severely. My wrists were raw. I held them up, rubbing them gently. I shook them out, then shook my feet to get the blood flowing. It hurt, but I had to do it.
I saw movement over Vince's shoulder, through the doorway. Broken glass on the floor. A body. I averted my eyes after that. I didn't need to know how they saved me, only that they had.
"Come on," he said, scooping me up in his arms. "I'm taking you to the clubhouse." I didn't care where we went, as long as we left that terrible place. I closed my eyes, finally able to rest my head against Vince's chest. He cradled me like a baby as he walked me out into the fresh air. I breathed deeply, wanting to get the stench of garbage out of my nostrils.
"Thank you," I whispered over and over. "Thank you so much."
"I couldn't leave you there," he said. "It's all over now."
All over. The words were music to my ears. I wanted to go to bed and sleep for days.
He put me down only when we reached his bike, and I climbed on behind him. Sliding my arms around his waist, resting my cheek against his back-it was like heaven. I closed my eyes, wanting to leave the horror of that clubhouse behind me. I didn't know how many Wolves were dead, and I didn't care. They could all be dead as far as I was concerned.
Before I knew it, we were at the Fury Riders' clubhouse again. I could have kissed the ground. Without a word, Vince picked me up again and carried me upstairs. We went straight to the bathroom, where he turned on the shower. "We have to get you cleaned up first," he said.
I nodded, half asleep, half in shock. I was happy to let him take over for a while if it meant I wouldn't have to think anymore. It had all been so surreal. Here, with him, was the only thing that mattered.
I stepped under the hot water, letting it wash off the dirt and grime from the night. My shoulders were still so sore, but the heat helped ease them a little. I made a mental note to see if there was any ibuprofen anywhere. The rough lives they led, there had to be some sort of painkiller around.
Vince got in behind me, but this time, there was nothing sexual about it. I had the vague sense that he wanted to make sure I didn't pass out or hurt myself somehow. I let him wash me gently, tenderly. I thought more than once how wonderful he was. He acted like coming to my rescue was just another day at the office, nothing more. He had no idea what he'd done for me. Sure, he'd saved me physically, but he'd also given me something to believe it. I was his, forever. How could I want to be with anybody else after this?
When he stood, after bending to wash my legs and feet, I leaned against him. I wanted to put my arms around his shoulders, but the pain wouldn't let me. Instead, I put my hands on his chest. I felt his strong, sure heartbeat beneath my palm and closed my eyes. I'd never felt safer in my life.
We didn't need to speak. We understood what the other was thinking without using words. We stood under the spray, Vince gently stroking my back, for a long time. Eventually, his touch grew more demanding. At first, I thought there was no way I'd rouse to him. Not after everything I'd been through. Something about him changed my mind, however. He had that effect on me. Soon I was melting into him, sighing as his hand went lower and lower on every down stroke.
Rather than take me there, as he had earlier, he stepped out of the shower and held out a hand for me. He wrapped me in a cozy towel before we walked to the bedroom together. There, he dried me carefully. I'd never felt so cherished in all my life. Who would have thought a man like him could be so tender? I lovingly ran my fingers through his dark, wet hair. His face was very serious. He wanted to be sure I was taken care of.
Then, he sat on the bed and pulled me between his legs. For a moment, he sat with his arms around my waist, his head against my belly. I held him there, stroking the back of his head. Again, we didn't need words to communicate everything we were feeling. I knew he had been afraid for me. He was relieved to have me back with him.