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Fear sliced into Briar’s chest. She knew Hog and he knew her. Hog was vicious, even for an OMC member. He reveled in inflicting pain and killing those weaker than himself. She didn’t have solid proof, but Briar suspected Hog was the one who put the bullet in Hank’s head—after torturing him for hours.
That Hog was there and in command was not good. Inventory was also not good. Were they moving weapons, drugs, or humans? Or all three? She needed to find out.
As she peered through her lashes at the two men and around the room where she and Raine were being kept, Briar tried to remain relaxed so they wouldn’t realize she was alert. The MC members were stout, one with a scraggly beard that hung to mid-chest. The other one’s beard was clipped short, and he wore a knit cap on his head. She didn’t recognize either of them, but by the tats she could see on their exposed arms, they were Spiders. Just like Hog.
They each had a gun, Long Beard’s tucked into a holster at his side. But Short Beard obviously hadn’t gotten the memo about not keeping a weapon tucked into the front of his jeans. Still, the guns were a problem. They needed to be disarmed and incapacitated.
What she could see of the room told Briar it was an old cellar. Probably, the original owners had stored home-canned goods and winter vegetables in it. Dusty cobwebs hung from the ceiling, and built-in shelves against one wall still held metal canning equipment and a few jars that looked like they had something floating in them. High in the wall closest to where Briar lay was a single window.
Which should she try for, the window or the door?
“Can’t we just do it down here and leave ‘em?” Long Beard complained.
“We’re selling the place. I don’t want to mess with the resale value.”
Long Beard nodded as if that made perfect sense. Why kill someone in your house, getting blood and body parts everywhere that might leave stains, when you could do it outside?
Were these guys for real?
Heavy footsteps overhead moved to where Briar thought the basement entrance must be. “Grandy, Sick-Boy, what the fuck is taking you so long down there? Get the bitches up here and outside so we can teach everybody a little lesson.”
Hog’s raspy, chain smoker’s voice chilled Briar to her very soul. The last time she’d seen him, he’d still thought she was Hank’s girlfriend, Sunny.
“Right, Hog.”
“Hurry it up, the fucking Russian is breathin’ down my neck, which means he’s breathin’ down your fucking neck.”
The footsteps moved away again. If Briar and Raine had a chance of getting out of this alive, they couldn’t wait until they were taken to Hog.
Short Beard headed toward Briar—excellent—while Long Beard went for Raine. Briar waited until he was close enough that she could smell his body odor before she acted. He’d bent down as if he was going to sling her over his shoulder, or maybe as if he was trying to see if she was conscious.
Unfortunately for him, she was.
Briar jerked upward, slamming her forehead into Short Beard’s nose as hard as she could. She definitely saw stars and had to grit her teeth in order not to vomit. Grunting in surprise, Short Beard fell backward. The flashlight he’d held dropped to the ground but stayed lit. Ignoring the pain and nausea, Briar rose to her knees to swing at his head again with the full force of her cuffed fists. Short Beard’s eyes rolled shut and his body went lax. It wasn’t ideal, but surprise had been on her side. Forced to use both hands, she snatched up the flashlight, testing its nice industrial weight. It would definitely hurt.
A few feet away, Raine was struggling with Long Beard. His nose was streaming blood, so she’d gotten a shot in, but he was fighting back. On her feet now, Briar raced to help her.
“Fucking bitch!” he roared as he tried to get back to his feet.
Before he could, Briar hauled off and kicked him in the ribs with the heel of her foot. The sound of their panting filled the small room, to the extent that Briar had a hard time believing that Hog or one of the other MCs hadn’t heard the noise.
Long Beard swept one arm out to take Briar’s legs out from under her. She crashed to the floor, landing on her recently recovered shoulder.
“Damn you,” she grunted.
That hurt. Long Beard was trying to reach his gun, and they couldn’t have that. Forcing her body to move quickly, Briar rolled over and used a heel hook move. The leg lock was painful for the man, but Briar was at a disadvantage because of her bound hands. Fighting on the ground was a vulnerable position—if Short Beard regained consciousness before they took Long Beard down, he would be a problem.
Behind her, Briar heard Raine moving around. She abruptly appeared in Briar’s line of sight, a large and full canning jar in her hands, which she proceeded to release and drop directly onto Long Beard’s head. He went slack.
“Quick,” Briar panted as she got to her knees. Someone had to have heard them fighting. “Check his pockets for a handcuff key. I’ll check the other guy.”
Releasing her hold on Long Beard, Briar crawled across the floor to where Short Beard lay. Still out. Hitching around, she first relieved him of his Sig, tossing it out of reach. Grimacing, she felt in his jeans pocket for the ring of keys she’d heard rattling.
Bingo, one handcuff key.
Thank god, because this was taking far too long.
“Got it,” she said triumphantly. “Here,” she stuck her arms out, “unlock me and I’ll unlock you.”
