Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(110)

We had to leave, to come out of hiding, go to the police … and that's what  I told him as we embraced, the words slightly muffled as I spoke into  his neck. The phone was still in my hand. I pulled back and began to  dial my father's number. Boon grabbed my hand, trying to pull the phone  away. I backed up further, looking at him and shaking my head.

"I have to," I said, my voice breaking. "I have to."

There was silence again as we looked at each other, each fighting our own demons. Finally, Boon sighed and closed his eyes.

"Can you call someone else first? Just … not your father. Not him first,"  Boon said, sounding defeated. I nodded. I could call Alicia or Becky  first; if anything, they would at least have some idea of what was going  on. I quickly dialed Becky's number, needing her good sense and clear  thinking.

The phone rang three times before she picked up, saying "hello"  curiously. She wouldn't have known the number that came up on caller ID.  I turned away from Boon as I spoke.

"Becky, it's Samantha," I said, whispering for no reason.

"Sammy! Oh holy fuck, holy fuck, Alicia, it's Sammy!" Becky said the  last part away from the phone, and I realized they were together. I  could also tell, by the tone of her voice, that they did, in fact, know  what was going on. "Sammy, where are you? Are you safe? Are you  with … them?"         

     



 

There was the sound of a struggle on the other end of the line, and  before I could respond I heard Alicia's voice coming through.

"If this is a hostage thing and they're making you talk, say ‘everything  is swell'," she said. I rolled my eyes and smiled, despite myself. One  too many horror movies, Alicia, I thought. As though, if I were  kidnapped, my kidnappers wouldn't be listening to every word on the  other end of the line, and wouldn't think it strange if I used the term  "swell".

"I'm not kidnapped, Alicia, I'm with Boon. We saw his gang pull up  outside the house and booked it. Guys … we're in trouble. We … we stole a  car … and … .what's happening? Are Mom and Dad okay? Please say they're  okay," I said, eyes shut tight, praying for a quick response.

My prayer went unanswered. The longer the silence on the other end of the line, the more my heart fell.

"Sammy, it's bad," Becky said, apparently having taken the phone back  from Alicia. "You need to come home, now. Your dad … your dad's okay, he's  okay, Sammy, but you need to come home. He's in the hospital. You need  to go see him. He's okay, though, he'll be fine."

"What about Mom? What about my mom? Becky, is Mom okay?" My voice broke  as I spoke; my father in the hospital? Because of me. Because of me and  Boon. He'd probably been shot trying to save me while I was on the  highway getting myself to safety … it was all my fault … tears began to  spill down my cheeks.

"You just … you need to come home," Becky said, her voice like she was trying to hold back tears herself.

"Becky, you tell me right fucking now what's wrong. Where is my mom? Did  they … oh God, Becky, did they … fuck, Becky, please," I knew my voice was  growing louder and higher with each word as panic struck me. Why  wouldn't she tell me? Why wouldn't she just tell me that Mom was okay?

There was more scuffling sounds, and Alicia's voice came through.

"Sammy, your mom is with them. She's with the club. They took her. She's  alive, we think, but they're holding her hostage," Alicia said, serious  for once. I dropped the phone and fell to my knees, a wail escaping my  throat.

"Samantha! Sammy, come home! Don't … ." I could hear, faintly, Alicia's  voice coming from the phone. It didn't mean anything to me. Neither did  Boon's hands on my shoulders. Neither did the wood that dug into my bare  knees. Neither did the raw pain in my throat. Nothing got in, and the  only thing that got out was screaming.

My beautiful, happy, kind, generous mother … with them. What were they  doing to her, right then? Were they hurting her? Jesus Christ, were they  raping her? They could kill her any minute …

"Samantha, you need to get up," Boon's voice cut through my breakdown  like a saber. He grabbed me by my armpits, pulling me off the ground  like a ragdoll. I heaved with sobs, watching him lean down and pick the  phone up off the ground. He tried to hand it to me but I only flailed my  arms and cried harder. Instead, he brought the phone to his own ear.

"Which of you is this?" he asked, then listened for a moment.

"Did they shoot him?" … . "And they don't know where they're keeping her?"   …  "No, I don't know … I can't take her … because I can't!"  …  "I know, I  know"  … . "Well then one of you come and get her! And don't tell anyone  I'm here, please!"  …  "Yeah, I know, I want myself to fuck off, too, but  that's not the important thing right now"  … . "I don't know, she said  something about clams or crabs or...."  …  "Yes, yes, the Clamhouse, yeah,  that sounds right"  … . "Well, okay, fine, then just be quick, please"  … .  "I KNOW, I KNOW I'm a shithead, okay? Just get here!"

Hearing only one end of the conversation was one impediment to knowing  what was actually going on; the other impediment was that I was an  absolute wreck. I couldn't think straight to save my life. I just kept  seeing my mother tied up, scared, bloody … and worse. Boon flipped the  phone shut and rushed to my side, holding me once more. This time,  though, it wasn't enough to calm me down. I pushed him away, tears and  snot running down my face, hair a mess, dress dirty: I looked exactly  how I felt.

"Your friends are coming to get you, Samantha. I'm so sorry. I should  never have brought you here. I just needed to know you were safe … "         

     



 

"Safe? Safe? SAFE? Who cares if I'm safe?! They have my mother, Boon!  They have her and they're … they're … they're going to do awful things to  her! And I'm fucking safe, so what? So what, Boon? This is all my fault,  all my fault!"

"None of this is your fault. It's me, I did all this. You're going to go  home now, and the cops will find your mother, and she'll get home safe.  I know these guys, Samantha, they wouldn't hurt a woman like that,"  Boon said, trying to catch me as I paced from corner to corner, arms  flailing wildly, meaninglessly.

"Oh, right, yeah, they'll treat her like a QUEEN, huh? You just told me  they killed some poor old man, and now they have MY MOTHER, Boon! All  because … because … goddammit, I should never have … goddammit! Mommy … " I  finally collapsed again, on the mattress, tears flowing like a waterfall  down my face. I was exhausted and angry and so upset I thought I might  actually break my teeth off from grinding them so hard. Boon came to me,  settling down next to me, hand on my side. I barely felt it. Anything  that had existed between us seemed to have disappeared. All I wanted  then was my mother.

"They'll come and bring you to see your father, Samantha, and before you  know it your mom will be home safe and sound," he whispered.

"You don't know that. You don't know anything. You're just … you're  just … I've screwed up. I've screwed up so bad, Boon. God, if anything  happens to her I'll just … I'll just … ."

I let him hold me, then, thought it gave me no comfort. I stared down at  the dirty mattress, listening for the sound of a car pulling up. After a  few minutes, Boon spoke again.

"Listen, I'm going to tell you some things. I know how they do things.  Please, try to listen and remember. If they took your mom, they must  have planned to take someone. You don't just kidnap people without a  plan. They'll have dumped their bikes somewhere after, likely in the  forest or on a deserted road. It won't do the cops any good looking for  the bikes; even if they find them, the club will be long gone. So tell  them not to waste their time.

Someone will have been waiting with vans to take them somewhere else  –   either a safe house or a hotel. They'd have booked rooms in advance,  under a different name, probably at a few hotels. It'd be too easy for  the cops to call around and find out if anyone got rooms for 15 dudes.  My dad uses pseudonyms; never the same one twice. And we always pay  cash."

Suddenly, I realized that I had no idea what Boon was planning to do. I  wanted him to come with me, to come and help me, talk to his father, do  something to show that he was still invested. But the way he was talking  just then sounded like he wasn't planning on doing any of that.

"Are you going to stay here?" I asked, unable to look him in the eye, not taking my gaze from the mattress.