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“You aren’t going to kill him, are you?” I asked.
He glanced at me and put his hands on my shoulders. “I don’t anticipate it, but you can never really tell how these things are going to pan out,” he said. “We aren’t going to go in there with guns blazing, if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
I nodded, feeling a little more relaxed at his reassurance. “Okay,” I said.
Dylan glanced up as Jessica came down the stairs, her hair wet.
She was dressed in the clothes I’d loaned her, though they were just a little big on her. The poor girl looked completely malnourished, though I suppose that could have been due to drug addiction. I’d spotted some track marks on her arms while I was cleaning her up. Dylan glanced at her and smiled softly.
“Hey there. We were just talking about how this was going to go. We’re not going to let that prick touch you, okay? We need you to show me where you live and then maybe we can get you to your family?”
Her cheeks flushed and tears came to her eyes. “I don’t have any,” she admitted.
“We’ll find you a place here then,” he said softly, reaching out and offering his hand. “You can stay with someone here until we can get you back on your feet.”
“Really?” she whispered, her eyes wide.
Dylan smiled and nodded. “Really,” he assured her.
Jessica seemed nervous but was coming around. Having another woman around was helping, as she had obvious reasons for being nervous around men. She moved over close to me and looked up at me, her eyes full of sadness and a strange kind of regret I couldn’t really place.
“We’re going to get make sure your husband never touches you again, okay?” I assured, grinning down at her. “Dylan and his crew are really good at what they do. I promise you won’t have to worry about him ever again.”
She smiled a little and nodded, blushing and looking down. “Right,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “I’ve just, I’ve never had anyone go to bat for me like this before.”
“Well, you aren’t alone anymore.”
She nodded and I led her outside where everyone else was waiting. She got on Snake’s bike and soon enough we were following them to the house she’d just escaped. I was excited to help her and to take part in what Dylan did, but I couldn’t get the feeling of uneasiness out of my head.
Something didn’t feel right, but I just couldn’t place my finger on it.
Chapter Eighteen
We traveled along a bumpy dirt road and every time we hit a pothole, my body would jolt forward and I’d gasp, my teeth knocking together. I held onto Dylan tightly, my forehead pressed against his back. My stomach was turning over and over again and I wasn’t sure why, but I was nervous. Probably because I’d never faced confrontation like this before.
An old dusty trailer finally came into view and I glanced over at Jessica. Her own gaze was one of terrified unease. I’d never really dealt with abuse victims before so I didn’t know what to expect from her. I just thought she was brave for facing her fears and showing us where her husband was. I couldn’t even imagine how I’d feel if someone asked me to do that. Luckily I’d never have to. Dylan was a dream.
We pulled into the driveway that led up to the beaten trailer. The closer we got, however, the more worn and abandoned the trailer appeared to be. I chewed my lip, feeling more than a little nervous as we parked our bikes. Something just wasn’t right; it didn’t look like anyone had lived in this trailer for years.
Mold grew up the side of it and the roof had caved in from rust and rain. The grass was too tall and the door was barely hanging on by one hinge. Dylan looked just as concerned and glanced over at Jessica.
“Are you sure t
his is your place?” he asked, not looking convinced.
Jessica was chewing on her bottom lip now and I could see little drops of blood starting to form where her teeth bit into the soft flesh. “Um, yeah. This is my house,” she said.
Oh, fuck. Something was very wrong. I was a second away from making Dylan turn back when I heard the distinct noise of gun hammers being pulled back. A chorus of them echoed in my ears as a group of bikers stepped out from around the trailer, training their guns on us.
Fear coursed through my veins and I felt an icy coolness in my limbs. My throat was dry and my eyes were wet with tears that threatened to spill down my cheeks. I wanted to play it cool, I wanted to be a badass and I wanted Dylan to be proud of me, but in this moment all I could think to do was curl up and hide behind him, dropping my head between his shoulders.
I could feel the stare of the other bikers as they took us in, clearly trying to assess whether or not we would put up a fight. I could hear Dylan’s heart racing and I knew this was bad. Most of the bikers on our side were unarmed. Dylan and a few of the others had guns, but we were vastly outnumbered.
“What do you want, Coyote?” Dylan asked, his voice low in his throat.
“You know what we want, Dylan. Don’t play coy. I don’t have time for your bullshit. You guys are out here playing good samaritans, but I have bigger fish to fry.”
I glanced around Dylan’s shoulder for just a moment, wanting to see the man we were up against. He was a tall, burly guy with at least a hundred pounds and twenty years on Dylan. He was hairy from the top of his head, down to his exposed chest. He was everything I’d imagined when I thought ‘biker’, and not in a good way. These were the guys I’d spent my life being afraid of.
