Fiona—
I paddle for three hours, and as the first streaks of daylight tinge the horizon, I come across the first sign of civilization.
A metal sign painted blue reads, THE RUSTY PELICAN BAR .
Exhaustion set in an hour ago, and my biceps and shoulders are burning from working the paddle.
My clothes are still wet from hiding in the water and pulling down the kayak, and shivers rack my body.
Digging deep for my last ounce of strength, I aim the kayak toward the boat dock that extends into the water. Only one boat is tied up to it, a pontoon boat with a cover on it.
Dragging the kayak on shore, I eye the bar, wondering when it opens. I follow a set of stairs around to the side, where I see a gravel parking lot and, thankfully, one lone SUV.
Trying the door, I find it locked, so I take the long deck that wraps around to the side that faces out over the water. There’s a sliding glass door for entrance in and out of the bar.
Leaning closer, I hear faint music coming from inside. Cupping my hand to the glass, I peer in and think I see someone moving around.
I knock hard. “Help me. I need help.”
An overweight middle-aged woman with short blonde hair and a sun visor on her head comes to the door. “We don’t open until 7am, darlin’.”
“Please. I need help. I need to make a call. Please.”
She opens the door and peers around like this might be some kind of a rouse to gain access for a robbery.
“Please help me.”
She lets me step inside, then shuts and locks the door. “Where did you come from?”
“I was kidnapped. I escaped and stole that kayak out there.”
She looks beyond me to where it sits on the shoreline, verifying my story.
“Kidnapped?”
“Yes. I got away, but my friend didn’t. They still have her.”
“Are you pulling my leg?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”
Her eyes sweep over my still wet clothing and my shivering body. “Okay, come on. Let me find something dry for you to wear, and we’ll call the police.”
She moves to a display case behind the bar and grabs a large white sweatshirt with the bar’s logo emblazoned on the front, then digs under another shelf and pulls out a pair of shorts of the same material. “Here. Put these on. There’s a ladies room right through that door. I’ll call 911.”
“No, wait. I need to make a call first. To my father. Please. No police.”
She hesitates with her cell phone in hand. “No police? Why not?”
“My father’s in a motorcycle club. They never involve the police. He’ll get my friend back.”
“I know about them. We have a toy run every Christmas. Always get a good turnout, too. We have a bike night every Thursday night, but we don’t get any of them bad clubs.”
“They’re not a danger to you. I swear. They’ll be so grateful you helped me. Please. Just let me call my father.”
“All right, but I don’t want any trouble.” She passes me her phone, and I dial my father.
Just when I think he’s not going to pick up for a number he doesn’t recognize, he answers.
“Yeah?”
“Daddy, it’s Fiona.”
“Oh, my God. Thank God. Where are you? Are you okay? I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m okay. I’m at a bar called The Rusty Pelican. I was kidnapped, Daddy. I got away, but they still have Tori. We have to help her. You have to hurry.” I know I’m rambling and take a breath.
“Where is this place?”
I tuck the phone and ask the woman the address. She gives it to me, and I relay it to my father.
“Okay, baby. You stay put. We’re coming.”
We disconnect, and I pass the woman her phone back. “I’m Fiona, by the way.”
“I’m Bev. Where’s your father coming from?”
“San Jose.”
“San Jose? Lord, that’s gonna take him an hour and a half to get here.”
“Knowing my father, they’ll make it in under an hour.”
“Still, we got some time to kill. You hungry? I bet you are.”
“I am, thanks.”
“Here’s a plastic bag you can put your things in. You go change out of those wet clothes, and I’ll make you a plate. I need to fire up the griddle, anyway. My regulars will start arriving in about forty-five minutes.”
Taking the items, I find the bathroom and strip out of my clothes, even my wet bra and panties, then slip into the dry things.
The shorts are the same material as the sweatshirt and have an elastic waist. They’re a little loose, but they won’t fall off.
The sweatshirt is big on me, but it’s soft and warm.
I study my reflection and try to finger comb my damp hair. I’ve got my father’s olive skin and dark hair, but I’ve got my mother’s eyes. I frown at the bruise along my jawline that’s now turning purple and yellow. God, I hope Tori is okay.
Opening the door, I find a stool at the bar.
Bev has a large glass of orange juice and a cup of steaming coffee waiting for me, plus there’s a bottle of over-the-counter painkillers.
I hear her humming in the kitchen area and the sizzle of something on the grill. Soon the aromas carry to me.
When she returns with a platter of eggs, bacon, sausage, and toast, I smile. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” She puts her hands on the bar, her arms spread wide and tilts her head, studying my bruise. “That bruise looks nasty. Did they hurt you bad, honey?”
“I’m okay, but I’m worried about my friend.” The thought hits me that this lady might know Connor. What if he comes here all the time? “Um, you don’t know the governor’s son, do you?”
She makes a face like I just asked her the craziest thing. “Nope, and I don’t know the king of England, either.”
“Sorry.”
“No problem. The crowd we get is mostly boaters. They drink beer, and they eat wings and shrimp. Occasionally we get the bikes in here. Like I said, we’re biker friendly.”
“Bev?”
“Yeah, doll?”
“There might be a lot of them. He might bring the whole club.”
By the time I finish my food, a distant roar rumbles the air, and Bev looks at me.
“I think your ride’s here.”
Through the side windows we see bike after bike roar onto the lot, followed by the chase van.
“Honey, you weren’t kiddin’. That’s a lot of bikers.”
I’m off my stool and sprinting for the door before she finishes the sentence. My father almost drops his bike in his rush to get to me, and I run into his waiting arms.
“Baby girl.” He kisses my temple, his hug so tight I don’t think he’s ever going to let me go.
Rafe comes to stand next to us, a look of worry on his face like I’ve never seen before. “Did you say they have Tori?”
I pull free of Dad’s embrace. “Yes, they brought her in last night.”
“Who? Where?” he barks.
“Connor and his friends.”
His brows lift with surprise, and then a look of vengeance fills his face. “Connor took you? I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. I’m gonna kill them all.”
“We gotta find the place first,” my father says, clapping a hand on my brother’s arm. “Calm down.”
“It’s a house on the waterway.” I point over the small bay it feeds into. “I came across from that way, but it was dark. I stole that kayak there and paddled for hours to get here.”
“That’s not much to go on,” my father says.
“I swiped a piece of mail with an address on it. It’s inside. Come on.” I lead them into the bar. “This is Bev, Daddy. She helped me and gave me these clothes and fed me.”
My father reaches across the bar and takes her hand. “I’m beholden to you, Bev. You ever need anything, I owe you a favor. He digs in his pocket and pulls out a card with the club’s name and clubhouse number. “You call, and I’ll come runnin’.”
She stares at the card, then his face. “You serious?”
“As a heart attack, sweetheart.”
A younger woman enters the door and looks around at all the bikers. “We having a poker run I didn’t know about, Bev.”
Bev tosses her an apron. “Nah, just helping some people out. Get to work, Wendy.”
I dig through the plastic bag and find the damp envelope, but thankfully the address is still visible through the little clear window.
Rafe grabs it out of my hand and puts the address in his phone map app. “Goddamn it. We take the bikes, it’s twenty-eight fucking miles. Gonna take us a half-hour.”
“Boat would be faster,” Bev says, then nods to the windows overlooking the dock. “We’ve got that Sun Tracker pontoon out there. I could give you a ride there, but it only holds ten. That means me driving, the girl you’re picking up, and eight of you guys.”
“You’d do that for us?” my father asks.
“Sure. You got a girl to save, and this one here”—she points to me— “won’t let me call the police.”
My father reaches across the bar, takes Bev’s face in his hands and kisses her on the mouth. “You’re an angel, darlin’.”
She blushes and turns to grab the keys. “I need a couple of you to help me take off the cover.” She looks at the waitress. “Take care of the place, Wendy.”
“You got it, boss.”
“Who’s going, Prez?” Crash asks Cole.
“You, me, Wolf, Rafe, Kyle, TJ, Billy, and Marcus.” The rest of you stay here with Fiona.”
“I’m going, too,” I protest. “I know the house.”
“Absolutely not,” my father barks. “I’m not putting you in danger again.”
Rafe pulls the satellite image of the house up and turns the screen toward me. “That the place?”
“Yes. They had us in the upstairs guest bedroom. There are security sensors on every door and window.”
“Fuck those,” Cole says. “We go in, we’re goin’ in hot and quick.”
“Who the fuck’s house is this?” Kyle asks, leaning to look at it.
“Tori said she saw a wedding picture on the mantle. Said the bride resembled Connor. She thought the house might belong to his sister, but they weren’t home,” I say.
Cole lifts his chin. “TJ, Billy, and Marcus. You three go help with that cover.”
They jog toward the dock after Bev, and Rafe starts to head that way, but I grab his arm. “Rafe, wait. I need to talk to you.” I pull him from the others.
“What is it, Fiona? I’ve got to get on that pontoon boat. Every second counts.” He dips his head, staring into my eyes.
“It’s about Tori.”
That has him frowning. “What about her? She’s okay, right? They didn’t hurt her?” His eyes sweep over me. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?” He cups my bruised face.
“Just the hit to the face when I tried to escape.” I look toward the dock, knowing I only have seconds.
“Rafe, there’s no time to break this to you the right way, so I’m just gonna say it.
I think Tori’s pregnant. If she is, she said it's yours. You’re the only one she’s been with.
I wouldn’t tell you normally without being sure first, but considering the situation and the danger she’s in…
Oh, Rafe, you have to get her out of there. ”
He looks stunned for a minute, and his chin pulls to the side. “Pregnant? She told you that?”
“No, but she was throwing up, and when I asked if she were possibly pregnant, she had that stupid look on her face women get when they’re trying to remember the last time they had their period, and they realize they’re late.”
“Holy fuck,” he whispers.
A sharp whistle splits the air, and we both turn to see our father motioning Rafe to come on.
“I’ve got to go, Fiona,” my brother says, grabbing my arms and kissing my forehead.
“Be careful,” I call after him, but then he and my father are out the door.
Red Dog, Green, Shane, Jake, and Reckless are still here, and the waitress is serving up drinks at the bar.
I drop my head and say a prayer that they find Tori and bring her back to us.