Queen of Clubs Read online

  With that she marched inside, already stripping off her dainty top as she ascended the stairs. The only thought in her head, that she was about to reclaim one of her own, or die trying.

  The trio rode nearly silently on their bikes, down narrow country cut-through roads to get to Espanola as quickly as possible. So many of the bikes the Cheap Tricks owned would never have been able to make this trip — they were built for road cruising with macho mufflers and impractical street tires. The Honeys favored quieter, older model bikes that Reina restored in her shop. They added durable tires and better suspensions for trips like these, down deserted desert roads.

  Mina found Reina on her belly with her bike leaning against a low sage and a pair of night vision binoculars resting on top. They shut off their engines and rolled the bikes the last few feet, unwilling to let their rivals know their true location.

  “They’ve been loading the truck the last 30 minutes or so. I don’t think they have loaded any people yet, just paper covered bricks at this point. I think they’re planning to leave early morning. The loading is going slowly and with the refrigeration they should be able to travel during the day. Their cuts say Iron Legion, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re just a front for the cartel.”

  “Thank you Reina, I appreciate you getting ahead of them as quickly as you did. Have you seen Tara or know where the guy that dropped the package went.”

  “I saw him go in through a side door on the northeast corner of the building. There aren’t many windows, but most of the unloading has gone out the back door and most of the other foot traffic has gone in the front, no one but him has entered from the side. I think there are about 20 of them in and around the building in total.”

  Mina nodded her head, checking out the doors Reina pointed out through her own set of binoculars. She came prepared, with her throwing knives, her concealed carry pistol with a silencer, along with a smaller derringer strapped inside her right ankle. All she needed was a break in the activity, a moment where she could move in unnoticed. It was sure to come in the early morning hours after the product was loaded and before they brought out Tara. She gave Isabel, Shelli and Reina the option to go home, but none of them would even consider leaving her on her own. She rolled to her stomach, her eyes plastered to the entrances and exits on the building, as they all settled in to wait.

  10

  Mina

  Their opportunity came around four o’clock, well after the last of the roadhouse partiers packed it in, but before the club members started loading the rest of the morning shipment. As Mina lay watching the club, her blood had risen to boiling levels. Not only were the men trafficking copious amounts of dangerous drugs, they were also filthy, disgusting excuses for men. They brawled against one another in the dirt out in front of the building, busted out windows with wild shots late into the night and she saw one of them kick a stray cat by the side door. A cat for goodness sakes, the poor thing didn’t have a chance.

  When the silence on the other side of the street lasted for about thirty minutes and every interior light faded to black, she prepared to move forward with her plan. Isabel and Reina were ready at her back, with instructions to call in a tip to the local authorities as soon as she exited the building with Tara. Reina still had connections with the ATF and she was ready to call in a tip directly to the state office, hopefully the drugs and firearms they witnessed the club loading in the truck overnight would be enough to bring out bigger authorities than the county sheriff.

  She slunk almost on her belly until she came to the road, which she crossed quickly before ducking down into the ditch. Her plan was the move around the truck to the door Reina pointed out and once she got there, she would enter as quietly as possible. With so little information about Tara’s location or the layout inside the roadhouse, Mina was essentially flying blind. Her saving grace was how much the other club underestimated her. There were no guards, no lingering club members, and no alarms as she made her way to the door. She approached and carefully tested the handle, only to find it unlocked.

  Her luck continued as she walked silently into an empty hallway with one door to her right and one door to her left. The carpet was a scuzzy brown shag and the interior of the building smelled like weeks worth of pent-up body odor and stale cigarette smoke, like the calling card of a truly terrible MC. It was all too similar to the club she had purchased Shelli’s freedom from and she couldn’t help but feel a little righteous anger as she sought to save another friend.

  Mina carefully turned the knob on the door to her right only to find it locked. Lightly stepping across the hall to the second door, she tried the next handle. The door to her left opened, but revealed an empty bedroom. She returned to the door to her right, removing a small lock picking kit from her pocket. Her heart raced in her chest when she heard the lock softly disengage and she put the kit back in her pocket to remove her weapon of choice, a simple Walther PPQ with a long suppressor at the end of the barrel, from the shoulder holster she wore strapped over her cut. The door swung open silently, just a crack, and even though she had prepared herself for the worst, the reality she was met with inside the room was more horrific than even her darkest imaginings.

  If she had not recognized the double H tattoo on the inside of the woman’s wrist, she wouldn’t have known she was looking at Tara. Her face was completely unrecognizable, her lips and nose swollen to grotesque proportions against her too-pale skin. The bruising down her arms and torso was extensive and interspersed with small burns. Her ankle was turned opposite its natural position on her right leg and her legs were both tied wide to the foot of the bed with rough, fibrous rope. It was the small trickle of blood down the inside of her thigh that broke Mina and she pressed one hand over her mouth as she bore witness to the carnage that could take place in just a handful of days. Sinking to her knees beside the bed, she sucked in silent breaths of air, trying to calm her racing heart as she lightly traced the tattoo on the inside of her wrist. Just months before, they had celebrated Tara’s induction into the club and she remembered the happy vibrant light in the younger woman’s eyes as she accepted her cut.

  “Oh honey, why did you do this? I promised to protect you.” Tears coursed down her cheeks in silent streams as she quietly whispered soothing words to Tara, searching out the binds the bastards used to tie her to the bed.

  She imagined finding Shelli like this, or Isabel or Reina or any of the other women she loved like sisters back at the club and she wanted to string up the fuckers who did this, one by one, without mercy.

  A slight sound in the corner of the room caught her attention, as the man from the bike earlier that night roused in the chair he had been asleep in. His cut was open over his bare, too hairy chest, a large beer belly hanging over the top of his jeans. Several of his teeth were black and rotting, his hair matted to the sides of his face in gritty, greasy strands. His hands were down by his side, a pistol laying side ways across one thigh and the button and fly of his jeans were still undone. He looked up, made eye contact with Mina, reaching for his weapon. A dark sneer colored his face as he opened his mouth to speak, but he never got a word out. Without breaking eye contact, Mina raised up on one knee and brought up her gun, putting a bullet square in his chest with only a slight ping of sound. The recoil jolted heavily up her arm and his body slumped lifelessly in the chair in an instant.

  She felt numb and cold all over as the rage drained from her and she cut Tara loose. She gently picked the smaller woman up and carried her down the hallway, her own frame staggeringly lightly under the weight. Keeping an eye out for any more men and any sign of additional women, she remained alert and vigilant as she went. When she emerged from the building, Tara thrown over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry, Isabel and Shelli were already giving her a thumbs up to signal that their calls to the ATF and local law enforcement were successful. They somberly loaded Tara to sit on the front of Reina’s bike since she was the most skilled rider. Shelli sucked in a breath and co
uldn’t hold in her tears at the sight of Tara’s brutalized body. No doubt it was like looking in a mirror at her own condition years before. Mina took off her shirt to put over the girl, leaving her in just her cut for the ride home, but the cold air was a small sacrifice compared to everything Tara had endured.

  When they arrived back at the compound, Mattie and Moises met them at the front gate. Mattie carried Tara in to her old room while Shelli followed close behind. She was the best of them at offering care and kindness, especially to women who experienced the things Tara had. Mina watched as Isabel wearily staggered off her bike and into the courtyard, until Moises rolled up beside her, gently pulling her down until she sat cradled in his lap. He carefully rolled them toward Isabel’s room, as Reina spilt off and headed toward her shop.

  Mina felt drained, like she was just a hollow, empty husk of a woman, watching her friends on a film reel. Mattie came out of Tara’s room and met her in the courtyard.

  “Will you or Moises or both stay until morning? I think I would feel better if we still had someone looking out for us until then.”

  Mattie nodded and looked torn, like he wanted to say something to Mina or reach out. His brow furrowed as he took in her dead eyes, trailing his gaze down to her right hand. She knew no one other than her could know exactly what had happened in the roadhouse, but Mattie had always been more intuitive than most people appreciated.

  “You shouldn’t be alone tonight, Mina. Do you want to go stay in Shelli’s room or with our mom? Or do you want to walk to Victor’s? I can let him know you’re coming.”

  She just nodded silently and walked slowly out the front gate, turning toward the trees. She stumbled over rocks and branches, narrowly avoiding cacti in the dark without a flashlight. She couldn’t explain why she was aimlessly wandering through the brush, toward a man she had just met. Heck, they hadn’t even gone on a date yet. But nonetheless here she was, walking his way and knowing if she could only reach him, he would know what to do. She felt irreparably dark, like her actions tonight had placed a blight on her soul, despite how justified and necessary they felt at the time. As soon as Mattie said the words, she felt something click into place in her soul at the mention of Victor’s name. His purity, his unflappable positivity even under her harshest treatment — they felt like necessary elements to offset the pain piercing through the very center of her being.

  Maybe if she made it there fast enough, Victor could fix the broken fragments of her shattered shell. It felt almost too large a task to ask and yet, somehow she knew he was the only one who might accomplish it. When she knocked on his door, it swung open quickly, illuminating him with the light from within. Mattie must have woken him up with his call, because Victor was dressed only in a pair of snug, black boxer briefs, his hair sticking out in a hundred bed-induced directions. The look of concern, of pure and poignant empathy highlighted by adoration on his sleepy face as he first saw her shattered the thin veil of control she had been clinging to and she felt herself let go.

  “Oh no, Mina. Don’t you know you don’t have to do this all on your own anymore? Come inside, let me help you.”

  She hadn’t even considered what she must look like, with only her cut covering her black lacy bra, hints of blood and dirt from her evening smearing her bare arms. Her hand still held her weapon. She hadn’t been able to let go of her grip on it, not even for the precarious ride back to the compound.

  Victor gently stepped forward, quietly lifting the gun from her hand, dropping the magazine and clearing the chamber before placing it down on the entry table inside his house. He ran his fingers gently down her arm and took her hand in his, so much surer and firmer in his intent than he had been earlier that evening. Was it really just earlier tonight they had their sweet moment in the trees?

  He led her around the side of the house to his outdoor shower, where he turned the water as hot as it would go and carefully stripped her out of her clothes. She didn’t feel self-conscious or exposed, even though she was naked for the first time in front of him. He looked at her with only the utmost care as he carefully ran his hands over her body, checking for any sign of injury. As he tenderly, gently released her hair from the intricate braid she wore and thoroughly washed her curls, she began to sob; letting loose every horrible thing she had seen and done in the last handful of hours as he held her close and cleaned every inch of her.

  “That’s it, baby. Let it all out. Come closer, lean on me.” He whispered into her hair as he washed her body, her forehead bent and resting against his slick chest. Victor kneeled in front of her, paying special care to her tired feet, before soaping up the rest of her with his body wash.

  When he was done, she smelled spicy and warm like him and she couldn’t resist pulling her hair up to her face for a deep smell, closing her eyes tightly against all of the terrible things that kept passing through her brain in a morbid, black parade. He gently combed her hair with a large comb and pulled it into a loose braid, leaving her silver clips in a neat pile on his bedside table. She stood still for him through it all, obediently raising her arms as he lowered one of his soft, worn Air Force t-shirts over her head and lifting her legs as he slid a pair of boxers up to her waist. He picked her up in his arms and lifted her into his bed, where he tucked her gently under the covers and held her close. His body bracketing her left side while Andy’s large fluffy mass secured her right. And as he stroked her hair and whispered soft sweet things in her ear, she drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  11

  Victor

  Victor woke to Mina, sweetly sleeping in his bed for the first time, and he knew it would be hard to ever sleep without her by his side again. When she showed up the night before, he saw the telltale signs of battle, not just on her skin, but in the empty stare in her eyes. So many of the men and women he rescued over the years bore the same hollow, dark-eyed look and he knew he immediately needed to get her warm and secure to get her past the shock.

  Now she was curled up in a tight ball, her head resting in the shallow dip between his abs and pectorals, with Andy pressed up between their lower bodies like the bed hog he typically was, his head resting between their bellies, his eyes concerned in an intuitive way only a dog can show.

  Victor texted Mattie earlier to have Shelli bring over clean clothes for Mina and leave them out on his porch. It would be best if she didn’t have to put on her slightly blood-spotted clothes again before they had been laundered.

  He settled down a little deeper in the covers, letting his fingertips trail across Mina’s shoulder, thankful his coffee pot was set to automatically brew at eight o’clock, because he absolutely was not going to leave his bed for anything. Once the smell of coffee began to permeate the room, Mina began to stir slightly, resisting waking up and snuggling in tighter to his side. He smiled at that. She might not be his completely yet, but her coming to him when she was in need the night before helped cement their bond.

  At least he thought so, until she came awake and came alive all in one fell swoop, sitting straight up in the bed before throwing her body over his, her legs bracketing his sides and her arm pinned against his neck, cutting off his oxygen.

  “Mina, baby, it’s just me,” he gasped out as she pressed harder, until she started to fully rouse and her eyes cleared. “You slept at my place last night, remember?” He carefully pulled her arm loose and spoke to her quietly, trying not to disturb her more than he had to.

  She looked down, her forehead furrowing as she eyed the shirt she wore. “Did you do all of this?” She pulled a little at the braid and the boxers, still frowning at him.

  “Yes, I did. You were going into shock and I needed to get you warm and clean. You came in around five this morning.”

  Mina nodded, still a little groggy, her hands moving over to grasp at Andy’s fur as the overexcited pooch licked up her face before jumping down and heading outside through the doggie door to do his business. Her gaze moved back to Victor, snagging on the tan ridges of his
chest. Her hands naturally followed her gaze as she ran them up and down, tracing his tattoos.

  He felt himself growing impossibly hard, even more so than he had become waking up first thing with Mina in his bed and while the reaction was natural, now was not the appropriate time to introduce the sexual side of their relationship. He pressed his hands to her back and shifted her forward so she rested closer to his lower abs — he didn’t want to complicate all of the emotions he could see swirling in her grey eyes any further.

  “Where did you get these?” She ran her hands along the thick raised scars dotting his abdomen and shoulders.

  “Mostly during my last tour in Iran. I got hit with some shrapnel and was discharged, that’s why I’m not a PJ anymore. I’m lucky to be alive.” He restlessly stroked her arms as he told her about the Iranian surgeon who insisted he could safely remove the shrapnel. Putting Victor’s life before his own when the commanding officers had tried to transport him, and the doctor had physically thrown his body over Victor, insisting he perform the surgery himself. In the end, the physician had been right and his dedication saved Victor’s ability to walk normally. He kept an eye on Mina as he spoke, watching her emotions boiling just under the surface as he told his story.

  “How many tours did you do?” She kept her eyes down as she asked, and he got the feeling she was working her way up to a bigger question.

  “I did four tours of active duty overseas in war zones, the rest abroad in less hostile territory.”

  “So you know what it feels like to kill someone?” She twisted the ends of his shirt in her hands, her eyes slowly tracking up to his face. He waited to answer until he held her gaze, his hand cupping the back of her head with his thumb stroking a gentle trail down her cheek.