Bounty:Fury Riders MC(81)

"Where are we?" I ask, and I hate myself for the pleading note in my  voice. There are cars whizzing past, maybe a few hundred yards away. The  trunk of the car is facing the road. I couldn't run for it if I tried.  I'd fall, cramped up. He might kill me then and there.

"A diner. A very special diner." Now he's the benevolent parent, or even  the happy child. With a big surprise for me. He helps me from the  trunk, almost careful with me now. Strangely so, considering the way he  hit me over the head to get me to go with him.

I stand and instantly crumple to the ground. "What's with you?" he asks, laughter in his voice.

"My legs are all cramped," I say, rubbing them.

"Oh. Didn't think about that." He gets down on one knee, rubbing my legs  along with me. His face is so close to mine. His curly, blond hair is  shorter than I remember it when I last saw him. It smells like product, a  menthol smell. He's overwhelming my senses. I feel torn between wanting  to be sick and wanting to drive my knee into his nose. I'm afraid he  has a gun. It's the only thing stopping me.

"Thank you," I murmur, sensing politeness will get me a lot further than rudeness. Soon I'm on my feet again.

"Hmm … " Tommy looks me over. "I can't take you in there with … this." He  motions to my head, where I was bleeding earlier. Am I still? I reached  up, but he smacks my hand away. Like it's nothing, like he wasn't the  one who did it to me.

"Don't worry about it. Here." He reaches into the trunk, pulling out a  wool hat. "See? I thought of everything." Jesus. He foresaw this being a  problem? He shoves the hat over my head roughly. It hurts. I wince.  "Stop being such a baby," he mutters.

My eyes sting with tears of frustration and futile rage. It's so cold  out here, very cold for Texas. I'm glad I'm still wearing my coat at  least.

"Let's go inside," he says, taking my arm in his. Like some chivalrous  prince, instead of my kidnapper. I look away from him, my eyes taking  note of the diner for the first time. Oh, no. Not this place.

"Remember when we met here?" he asks, leaning conspiratorially toward  me, squeezing my arm in his. "It was the best day of my life."

Yes, I remembered it very well. I was with a group of friends, on a road  trip to Austin for a music festival. He was on his way to the same  event. The fact he was alone should have raised a red flag. It didn't. I  thought he was cute. We happened to cross paths at this diner along the  way. Promised to meet up again when we made it to Austin.

How different would my life be if we'd never stopped for something to  eat that day? If I hadn't decided to go to Austin in the first place?

My mind is racing. What can I do to attract attention? He's going to be  watching me closely. What if I start screaming, just shouting at the top  of my lungs? He hasn't threatened me with a weapon yet, aside from  whatever he used to hit me over the head. What would happen?

"I know I don't need to warn you about this," he murmurs, as though  reading my thoughts, "but I thought you should know I wouldn't want to  have to use the gun in my coat pocket. On you, or on any stupid Good  Samaritan. Get it?"

I nod, miserable. So much for that.

He requests a table for two. The waitress leads us to a booth. There are  only three other tables with customers at this point. I look at the  clock on the wall. It's already two in the morning. We've been in the  car for over three hours. No wonder I was so stiff.

He sits me down in the booth, then sits opposite me. I open the menu,  not seeing the words in front of me. Trying to think of a way to get  help. I look at the other patrons over the top of the menu. They're all  tired, minding their own business. I guess that's how it goes at this  time of the morning.

"See anything you like here?" Tommy asks, now the indulgent parent. He's  so pleased with himself for remembering this place. I've been trying to  forget it for years.

"Oh, I don't know … I don't usually eat at this time of night. I'm not very hungry."

"Come on. If I know you, you love your french toast. Right?"

At least he remembers that. "Yeah. French toast. That's usually my favorite."         

     



 

He claps his hands. He literally claps his hands like a little boy. If I didn't feel so dead inside, I'd laugh.

"See? I know you. I'll order you some of that."

"Okay, sure. Thanks."

No sooner do I put down the menu than he takes my hands in his. I use  every bit of self-control to keep from screaming. I do flinch, but only  slightly. He doesn't seem to notice.

"I've missed you so much. I bet you didn't think I'd come for you, did you?"

"No, Tommy. I knew you'd come eventually."

He smiles, not hearing what I'm actually trying to say. Only hearing the words. "You did? You knew I'd rescue you?"

"Yes. I knew you would come. No matter how hard I tried to run away from  our relationship, you'd never let me get away. You don't give up that  easily."

"You're damn right, I don't." The waitress comes over, looking bored.

"What can I get for y'all?"

Tommy grins at her. "This little lady will have french toast and  sausage. I'll have buttermilk pancakes and bacon, please. Oh, and coffee  for both of us." He smiles at me. "I know you like your coffee, too."

"Yes. I run a coffee shop."

The waitress doesn't care either way, and walks to the kitchen.

His face changes. "You did run a coffee shop. That's all in the past, now."

"Oh? Why? Where are we going?"

"You don't think I'd ever let you go back there, do you?"

"I guess I should know better than to think that."

"You should. No, we're going to the place I told you about in the last  messages I sent you. Didn't you get them?" I search my memory, but come  up empty. He frowns. "You mean to tell me you're here with me, and you  don't even know where we're going? God, how rude of me! You must be  completely confused." He laughs like this is all a joke. I crack a tiny  smile.

"So where are we going?"

"We're going back to the tower. Remember? Where we first fell in love?"

"Oh, right. That's very romantic." I can't bear to squeeze even a bit of  emotion into my voice, but he couldn't care less. He's on cloud nine,  thinking how impressed I am.

"Remember? When we went up there together and could see the entire  campus and then out in the distance for miles and miles? And you said  you felt like a princess in a tower, and I was your prince? How I'd come  to rescue you? Don't you remember?"

I do remember that. I'd believed it at the time, too. How could I have been so naïve? He wasn't a prince. He was a demon.

"I remember," I say, my voice still flat. Like a robot.

He doesn't notice. "I thought it would be fitting for us to go back  there. See, that's where I first knew I loved you. When we stood in that  tower together. You were my beautiful princess. I was your galant  prince. Rescuing you from a life of loneliness. And I'm rescuing you  again. Taking you away from that awful place. That town you ran away to.  What made you do that?"

"I don't know, Tommy. I wasn't thinking clearly."

"To put it mildly." Has he always been this completely insane, or did it  just happen? Did my leaving throw him off the deep end? Maybe he needs  medication. This isn't the man I used to know. He wasn't this  delusional. I guess time spent alone, brooding, might do this to a  person. Maybe he was always sick, and it didn't start showing until now.  Either way, he's unnerving.

The food comes quickly. I was secretly hoping it would take a while, not  because I wanted to spend so much as an extra second with this insane  person who I once thought I loved but because I know he plans to kill  me. All he wants to do is get me to the tower. Not live happily ever  after. I notice he says nothing about the future.

I put the sausage off to the side.

"What are you doing?" Tommy asks.

"I don't like sausage," I say. "I never have."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't." I have no idea why it's so important to have my way in  this. Maybe I need to be myself, for only a minute. He doesn't know me  anywhere near as well as he thinks he does.

"You are so ungrateful!" His fist hits the table, causing heads to turn  our way. "This is so like you. Throwing my generosity back in my face.  Being a little bitch."

Good. Throw a fit. Let everyone see how insane you are. "I don't see  what the big deal is. I just don't like sausage. I've never eaten  sausage in your presence."

"No, but I bet if some biker trash gave you his sausage, you'd put that in your mouth fast enough. Wouldn't you?"

I'm shocked, not only that he'd say something like that so loudly, but that he just referenced Jax.

"Excuse me." The waitress has come over to our table. "Do you need  assistance?" She looks at me. I look up, desperately trying to send her a  message with my eyes.