Reacher promised to check in every few hours with her, and if she didn’t hear from him, she was supposed to call Hurricane or Yonkers to let them know.
Apparently, the guys had a whole plan in place in case things went south.
She knew that Reacher had told her about the plan to make her feel better, but for some reason, knowing that they had to have a “Worse Case Scenario Plan” in place made her worry even more.
And now, Reacher was almost thirty minutes late checking in, and she knew that she needed to call Hurricane.
She sneaked into the kitchen, not wanting to alarm Gloria about Reacher possibly being in danger, and found Hurricane’s number in her contacts.
“Hello,” he answered after the first ring.
“Everything okay?” he asked. She could tell that she was interrupting him, and she kind of felt bad for calling him over something that might turn out to be nothing.
“I’m not sure,” she admitted, “Reacher was supposed to check in about a half hour ago, and he’s late. I’m worried, and well, he told me to call you or Yonkers if this happened.”
“Yeah, you did the right thing, Brandi,” he said. She nodded and rolled her eyes at herself for thinking that he’d be able to see her through the phone. “I’ll get a few guys to go down to the docks with me and check things out. Yonkers is here and wanted to know if you told Gloria,” he said.
“Of course not,” she said, “I know how she feels about Reacher, and I don’t want to upset her right now.”
“Good,” Hurricane said, “I’ll be in touch when we have news about Reacher,” he promised.
“Thank you,” she almost whispered, “please find him,” she begged. The thought of never seeing Reacher again flashed through her mind, and she let the sob inside of her out.
“Don’t worry,” Hurricane insisted, “we’ll find him for you.” He ended the call, and she buried her face in her hands and cried.
“There you are,” Gloria said. “Hey, why are you crying, honey?” she asked, wrapping an arm around Brandi.
“Um, I’m just having a bad day,” she said. That was partially true because Reacher not checking in ruined her entire day.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Gloria asked.
“No, thank you for offering though,” Brandi said.
“Did you and Reacher have a fight?” she asked.
“No,” Brandi insisted, “I think my hormones are just out of whack,” she lied.
“Well, why don’t you head home early and get some rest? You’ve been working yourself to the bone,” Gloria said.
“I can’t do that to you,” Brandi insisted. “You need me here.”
“No, I don’t. If I find that I need help, I’ll call Yonkers or Wren. They will come over here with me, but you need rest, and I won’t take no for an answer,” Gloria said.
“You know, you don’t act very sick,” Brandi teased.
“You’re a badass and I won’t even try to tell you no.
Thank you, Gloria. Please, promise me that if Wren or Yonkers can’t come over, you’ll call me, and I’ll come back.
” Gloria looked her over and Brandi wondered if she’d tell her no, but when she nodded her agreement, she let out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding.
“Tell Reacher that I say hi,” Gloria said, “and that we missed him today for lunch.” Reacher had been coming over every day to have lunch with both her and Gloria.
When he didn’t show up today, she knew that something was up, but she tried not to worry.
When he missed calling in, she started worrying and her nerves were shot.
“Thanks again, Gloria,” she said, grabbing her purse and bag along with her jacket.
“No problem, honey. Get some sleep,” Gloria ordered.
Brandi smiled back at her but must have failed in trying to ease Gloria’s worry.
She watched Brandi through the front storm door, and she turned back to wave, but Gloria’s worry was etched on her face, and for that, Brandi felt as though she had failed her patient and friend.
Brandi walked into an empty home. A part of her was hoping that she’d walk in to find Reacher in the kitchen cooking dinner, or even watching television in the family room, but she didn’t.
She quickly pulled her phone from her purse and saw that no one had tried to call or text her.
She had an eerie feeling that things had gone horribly wrong, but she needed to hear that news from Hurricane.
Until then, she’d pray that Reacher was okay because she couldn’t face the alternative.
The front doorbell rang and she worried that the news was bad enough to warrant a face-to-face rather than a call or text. Her palms suddenly felt sweating, and she wiped them down her pants. “Get yourself together,” she said to herself.
Brandi walked to the front door and pulled it open, not bothering to look through the peephole. As soon as she saw the two bikers covered in tattoos she couldn’t help her tears. She thought about shutting the door and pretending that they weren’t there—but they were.
“Are you here to tell me that something has happened to Reacher?” Brandi asked, swiping at her warm tears as they fell down her face.
The two men looked at each other and then, nodded. “Yes, but he’s alive,” the shorter of the two said.
She hadn’t seen them around the club, but then again, there were probably a lot of members of the Royal Bastards that she didn’t know. “Where is he?” she sobbed.
“We’re supposed to take you to him,” the taller man said.
“Um, sure,” she said, “I’ll get my purse. Is he at the bar?”
“Yes, and we’re on a schedule, so we need to go.” She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her jacket, not caring that she hadn’t changed out of her scrubs yet. Getting to Reacher was all that truly mattered.
“I’m ready,” she said, picking up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder.
“Great, let’s head out,” the tall guy ordered.
She turned back to tell Mr. Cuddles Worth that she’d be back soon, and he looked at her as though he wanted to call her a liar.
The guys quickly ushered her out of the house and into their pickup truck, and she was beginning to feel that they were more hostile than necessary.
Wouldn’t guys from the club be nicer to one of their brother’s Ol’ladies?
She remembered Reacher telling her about their bylaws when they were first together before he took her to the bar to meet everyone.
He said that the guys weren’t allowed to disrespect another biker’s woman.
So, why were these guys being rough with her?
“If Reacher’s alive, then why didn’t he just come home?
Why is he having you bring me to him?” Brandi asked.
They started out of the neighborhood and down the road to the highway.
When she heard the truck doors lock, she panicked.
Something wasn’t right, and now all the alarm bells were going off in her head.
“You guys aren’t Royal Bastards, are you?” she guessed.
They both laughed, but she found none of this funny.
“No,” the short guy said. “We’re Vipers—maybe you’ve heard of us?
After all, your boyfriend has been trying to find the warehouse we’re keeping our women in for weeks now.
He’s really fucking up our Prez’s plan, so he wanted to pay Reacher back for the trouble.
” Shit, she had fallen right in line, giving them exactly what they wanted without knowing it.
“What are you going to do with me?” Brandi almost whispered.
“We’re going to do what we do best,” the tall guy said.
“Which is?” she asked.
“We’re going to teach your boyfriend a lesson about sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong.
Our Prez is planning on auctioning you off to the highest bidder at our next event, and there won’t be anything that Reacher can do to stop us.
” She wanted to tell them that they were wrong, but she wasn’t sure if she even bought that.
Brandi hated that she was stupid enough to willingly get into their truck under the false promise that they would take her to Reacher.
She was an idiot, but beating herself up about that now wasn’t going to help her situation.
First, she was going to have to put on her brave face, and then, she planned on giving the Vipers hell from here on out.
They’d regret taking her and trying to sell her off—she’d make damn sure of that.
The Vipers had kept her in a cage that was so short that she had to crawl on the concrete floor to get around.
Brandi had scraped knees to prove it. There was barely enough room to lay down to sleep, not that she was doing much of that.
They only let her out of her cage for one hour each day, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could last under these conditions.
They had taken turns beating her—never hitting her face, only her body.
They wanted her face to look its best for the auction.
As if that would do any good. She hadn’t had a shower the entire week that she was in the cage, and she was pretty sure that she was ripe.
No one in their right mind would buy her, and that gave her some smug satisfaction.
“Tonight’s the night, honey,” a biker taunted. “You’re going to get all spiffed up so that you’ll fetch top dollar.”
“I won’t,” she spat, “I won’t fix myself up. You’ll have to sell me like this, sorry, asshole.”