Damon:A Bad Boy MC Romance Novel(114)

"Well, are there any hotels or stuff up there?" I asked, trying to remember if I'd ever been to that part of town.

"A few. We have calls into them," Kevin said, shaking his head.

"What was the hotel that … last time … you know, the last time all this  happened, what hotel was that?" I asked, the question appearing in my  mind even as I spoke it aloud. Kevin shrugged.

"Well, it was the Indian Lodge Motel, and that's up in that area, but  we've already sent them the ID and it's really unlikely that they'd go  back to the same … "

"Is it? How unlikely is it? I mean, you said it's close to where Boon  last was," I said, my general malaise and depression making way for  frustration. It was the only lead they had, why wouldn't they want to  take it?

"Yeah, but … "

"Can't we just check it out? Just go talk to the desk? I mean, maybe their fax machine is broken or something," I said, pushing.

"We have patrols up in that neighborhood, I could … "

"No, can't we just go? Kevin, please, I just … I need to try … I can't just  sit here!" My voice rose to a cry as I spoke, and I realized the truth  behind my own words. I didn't know if my idea was worth anything, and  there really wasn't any use in going to the motel ourselves if they  already had people canvassing that area, but I didn't want to sit in  that room. And I didn't want to sit in Alicia's room, or Becky's room. I  wanted to do something, even if that something wound up being nothing.

Kevin studied me, his face sympathetic. He nodded and stood up.

"I'll see what I can do," he said, stepping out of the room once more. I  hated being left alone in that room. It seemed that something inside me  was waking up: something angry, and motivated, and passionate. I wasn't  just going to sit in that room and wait. I got up and went into the  hallway, looking in both directions for where Kevin might have gone. I  heard a low conversation coming from a door on my left and tiptoed up to  it.

"She just wants to do something, I say we take her for a ride. I mean,  if anything happens, I'll call for backup ASAP, but probably nothing  will happen. But just for her peace of mind, you know? Let her think  she's helping, or whatever," Kevin's voice came. Condescending prick, I  thought, surprising myself once more with the depths of my anger at that  moment.

"I don't think it's a good idea. I mean, I could just send one of the  units out, she never has to be in danger," came another voice,  presumably Kevin's superior.

"Well, why would they go to the same place twice, really? I just  think … well, we owe it to Sheriff to try and take care of his daughter."         

     



 

"And you think taking her to a likely hostage situation is taking care of her?"

"It's better than keeping her in an interrogation room, or letting her  just go home and probably wind up going there herself, anyway."

There was a pause in the conversation, then a sigh.

"Okay, okay, fine. Take her. Quickly, though, in and out. And if  anything seems off, don't even pull in, just call for backup. I'll let  everyone out in that section know to be on the alert. There should be a  team checking out that place in a half hour or so, anyway."

"Thanks, boss. I just want the kid to feel better," Kevin said, his  voice growing nearer. He appeared around the corner of the doorway and  nearly jumped a foot into the air when he saw me waiting.

"Shall we?" I said, turning on my heel. I don't know exactly when I went  from being a ragdoll who could barely hold her own head to this person  who felt like she could climb Mt. Everest if it meant getting her mother  back, but I knew I didn't want that feeling to leave. I wanted to take  advantage of it while I could.

The drive to the Indian Lodge Motel was about ten minutes, mostly spent  in silence, listening to the crackle of the radio and the reports coming  in from base and from other squad cars. I thought, along the way, about  whether or not Boon was there, too. I

f he knew where his dad was staying and he'd been in this neighborhood  when he sent the text … I could only hope. Or, not hope. I didn't know  what I wanted to be true. Well, I knew what I really wanted: I wanted  for Boon to have talked his dad into surrender, for my mom to be sipping  tea in the lobby by the time we got there.

But the reality, I knew, was much more complicated. What if Boon had  agreed to leave with his father? What if Boon had fought his dad? What  if he didn't really know where his dad was, and we were, in fact, no  closer to answers than before? We pulled into the parking lot; it was  almost deserted. The motel itself looked like it could be blown over  with a single puff from the big bad wolf.

"Stay here," Kevin said, unbuckling and opening his door.

"No way," I said, fairly leaping out of the car and striding towards the  door. I could tell Kevin was already regretting the fight he'd put up  to take me there. He'd probably imagined he was taking me for a little  cruise, that I'd just sit in the car and wait for him to come out  empty-handed. Tough luck, Kev.

The night clerk was a bearded old man with a wheezing way of breathing.  He smelled like lozenges. I didn't care. If he was going to be able to  help us, I'd consider him Jesus. Kevin approached behind me, pulling the  police sketch from his pocket.

"Did you get a fax today looking for this guy?" I asked as he slid it onto the counter. The old man shook his head.

"Fax machine is broken," he said, and I looked back at Kevin pointedly.  The old man studied the picture for a few minutes. "Actually, yeah, he  looks real familiar. I checked him and his buddies into room 127 a few  hours ago. Maybe around 7 or 8." He smiled, clearly thrilled to have a  chance to help.

I can only explain my actions after that as the actions of someone gone  crazy with grief. I mean, looking back, I really can't tell you why I  thought any of the things I did were good ideas. I guess I knew they  weren't, but I wasn't really thinking of anything. I was like a wire  coil, all tensed up, suddenly sprung. I looked at Kevin once, quickly,  then bolted.

"Wait, Samantha, stop!" he called out, trying to grab me as I raced past him.

"No, no, fuck you! That's my fucking mother in there!" I cried, running  out the door. Kevin started after me, but I was already halfway around  the motel, room numbers whizzing past. Finally, I arrived at 127; Kevin  was hot on my heels as I began to bang on the door, crying out.

"Mom! Mom, it's me! It's Samantha! Let her go, you motherfucker! You let her fucking go right now!"

" … requesting backup … suspect in … hostage … backup … .now … " Kevin was speaking  into his walkie-talkie as he ran towards me; I turned to look at him,  body shaking, mind a total wreck. And then he disappeared. Or, more  accurately, I disappeared. Into the room. The door inched open and I  felt strong hands pulling me inside, then heard the door slam shut. It  was dark in the room, the only light coming from one lamp on the table.  As my eyes adjusted and my heart raced, I realized I'd made one last,  awful mistake.

"Welcome to the party, sweetheart," came a voice behind me, right as two big, sweaty hands closed around my upper arms.





29





A few minutes later, I was tied to a chair, a gag in my mouth. My  mother, alive and awake, was across from me, her eyes bright with fear. I  hadn't had time to scream or even say anything before Tank had thrown  me onto the chair and the other man in the room, who I'd never seen  before, had slipped the gag into my mouth. Boon was lying on the bed, on  his stomach, his face turned away. He could have been dead. I thought  he probably was.         

     



 

My first feeling upon seeing my mother was relief that she was even  still alive, and relatively unharmed. My second feeling, much stronger,  was panic. There aren't enough words in the English language to explain  just how afraid I was. If I'd screwed up everything to that point, I'd  really done it by throwing myself head-first into Tank's all-too-willing  hands.

The knot binding my wrists was tight, and my shoulders were aching  within the first minute. I stared at Tank, who'd been mostly silent  after those first words. He was bigger than I remembered, looked meaner.  His face was etched with scars, his arms huge and dirty and covered in  tattoos. He had Boon's clear blue eyes, though, and that was, perhaps,  the scariest part of it all.

"Well, this is a hell of a nice surprise, pumpkin," Tank said, leaning  down in front of me and taking my chin in his hands. I closed my eyes,  revolted by his face, his hot breath, the feel of his skin on mine.  "This is really, really, just … man, I couldn't ask for anything better."

He released me then, moving over to my mother. I opened my eyes again  but wished I hadn't; he was stroking her hair, his massive hands pulling  roughly at her soft hair. I wanted to kill him for laying a single hand  on her.