Unbreakable: A Section 8 Novel (A Section Eight Novel) Page 17

  “Gunner?”

  “I’m here, baby,” he told her, his drawl thick with sleep. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you need more pain meds? Drea left them for you.”

  “She’s gone?”

  “Yeah.” Gunner paused. “Jem said she asked to come with us.”

  “You should let her,” Avery said sleepily. “She needs us.”

  “You’re psychic now?”

  “I could tell.”

  Gunner pressed a hand to her forehead, checking for fever. “You need to eat and drink something.”

  Her stomach churned at the thought. “Can’t.”

  “At least drink.” The bed rustled and a can of Coke, complete with a straw, was in front of her face.

  She did, because she was thirsty. The soda was cold and sugary and went smoothly down her throat, easing the ache she had from holding back her screams for so long.

  She closed her eyes to shake away the memory and saw Landon’s face flash in front of her eyes. Heard his laugh. Felt his hands.

  Shit. This had to go away.

  “You’ll get through this, Avery. If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll make sure of it,” Gunner told her.

  “You already got me through. All I kept thinking about was you. Being with you. That you’d come get me. And then I’d kill Landon for you. For both of us.”

  The bed shifted and Gunner moved around so she couldn’t not look him in the eye. He knelt down by her side of the bed, rather than trying to make her move. “I won’t let you.”

  “I already have blood on my hands,” she reminded him.

  “Not like that.” He took her hands in his, kissed them. “I’ll never let you have that on your conscience.”

  “Landon deserves what’s coming to him, Gunner. My conscience will be just fine.”

  He shook his head and she knew what he was thinking. “It was different with my mom.”

  “You thought it was going to be,” he said quietly.

  “Right now I hate that I told you things.”

  • • •

  Drea didn’t try to do anything for the rest of the night, especially not talk to him, Jem noted. But she did check on Avery, quietly, not waking either her or Gunner as she did so.

  Avery was tough—Jem knew she’d get through it, but Gunner would have to avoid the whole alpha I can fix this shit and just be there for her. This wasn’t the time for Gunner to retreat into medical jargon—it would be too easy for him to distance himself with what had happened, and Jem knew from experience that distance from emotions was bad.

  Of course, that was also coming from someone who was way too much in touch with his own.

  He shifted, stared out the window again. The bikes were back again, the way they’d been all night. There was a strip of bars down the road, so this could’ve all been a normal, nightly thing, but . . .

  But Drea practically went out of her way to remain too casual every time she heard the rumble of the engines. The subtle signs, the shift in her seat while pretending she was just getting comfortable, the avoidance of eye contact . . . the fact that she was more than willing to let a group of strangers who’d kidnapped her take her the hell out of town . . .

  “You okay?” he asked for the millionth time, and she nodded. Sipped the Coke and stared at the TV.

  He checked his watch. It would be time for her to go in the next hour. Time for him and Gunner and Avery to get the hell out of Dodge too, once Key got here.

  God, Key was pissed. Jem was sure Dare and Grace were too, but he wasn’t even looking at their messages, much less answering them. At this point, his phone was like a fucking vibrator in his pants and even Drea was starting to look at him funny.

  When she was pretending not to look at him.

  He glanced down at his phone, then hers, and realized that his wasn’t the only phone blowing up. “Thought you said no one would worry about you.”

  She stared out the window, tightened her arms across her chest for a second before loosening them. “No one I care enough about.”

  “Fuck, Andrea, that’s not what I asked you before.” There were more than twenty text messages from two different accounts, not including e-mails and missed calls. She might’ve had him beat on the people are pissed at you contest.

  “None of them are going to bother you.” She held her hand out and he gave her the phone. This time, he didn’t stop her when she pulled her jacket on and she didn’t ask to stay. She wouldn’t a second time, had too much pride.

  But a part of him wished she didn’t. “Need me to walk you across the way?”

  “I don’t think so.” She paused, hand on the doorknob. “Tell Avery I hope she gets what she needs.”

  “Andrea,” he said more sharply than he meant to. “You don’t have any training.”

  She pushed her lips together tightly, like she was trying to keep information inside, then simply said, “Right.”

  And then she was gone.

  “Fuck me,” he muttered, watched her cross the street back toward the clinic. Instead of going into the front door, she went around the back and a few minutes later, a motorcycle pulled to the edge of the lot. “And that is really fucking cool,” Jem muttered to himself. Wanted to get on the bike behind her and beg for a ride.

  Yeah, he’d have to find out more about Dr. Andrea Timmons. What would make her want to pick up and hang out with a merc group, especially one that kidnapped her?

  She roared away, her ponytail trailing behind her out of the helmet, and at the last second he noted her bike’s logo. He recognized it from the bikes he’d seen riding by the clinic earlier—the symbol of the Outlaw Angels, a one percenter biker gang with charters all over the States. Now that was interesting as fuck, and maybe one of the reasons she was so keen to stay on with them.

  And that was trouble they couldn’t afford at the moment.

  He’d almost turned away when he heard the rumble of more bikes. They were trailing after her, had been lying in wait in the parking lot next to the motel.

  Ah, fuck, couldn’t be good. Not when another couple of them pulled into the motel lot.

  “Gun, we got company,” he called quietly.

  “Trouble?” Gunner came out from behind the curtain, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

  “Outlaw Angels.”

  “The hell?”

  “I think our doc might be tied to them.”

  “That why she asked to come with?” Gunner asked as he glanced out the window. “Yeah, I spied on you. You’ve got game, brother.”

  “And I wasn’t even trying,” Jem pointed out. “Cavalry’s here.”

  Cavalry in the form of Key, and he looked pissed as shit. He was on an old Harley Fat Boy and he slammed past the bikers and pulled in front of the room. They surrounded him and he looked toward Jem through the window. Jem nodded and then Key turned slowly back to the menacing group.

  His anger was palpable, directed totally at Jem, but when Key turned it outward, it was a sight to see.

  “Baby brother’s got this,” he told Gunner. “Go back and get Avery ready to go.”

  “At least we know for sure this isn’t Landon,” Gunner said. “But what the fuck, Jem?”

  “I ask myself that every single day,” Jem muttered, turned back to watch Key getting three beefy OAs under control. “That’s good. Get your anger out on those good old boys.”

  He had Drea’s address, dialed her phone number and got her voice mail. Didn’t want to leave her one in case other OAs were checking her phone.

  After ten minutes of Key’s reasoning techniques, the OAs up and left, speeding off into the night. Key slammed into the room. He was tan. His hair was longer, pulled back, and he had several days’ growth of beard.

  “Dude, you trying for a spot in the MC?” Jem asked him.

  Key ignored that. “Want to tell me what that’s all about?”

  “Yeah, right after you go with me to pick someone up. W
e’ll send Gun and Avery ahead—can’t leave them here.”

  Key narrowed his eyes. “Is this about a woman?”

  “Isn’t it always, brother?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Drea’s rental house was small, well kept and in a decent enough neighborhood. No sign of the bike anywhere, but there was a light on in her house.

  “I’ll go in.” Jem got off the back of Key’s bike.

  “Sure, leave me outside to handle more shit,” Key muttered.

  “Just don’t sign any contracts in blood,” Jem told him, then headed up the front walk. He didn’t bother knocking, walked right into her living room and heard the shower running. “Andrea! It’s Jem. And you’d better be alone in there.”

  He pushed the door open a little and the shower stopped. In seconds, the curtain pulled aside and she stepped out, wrapped in a towel. Which was disappointing.

  Worse, she’d been crying.

  He moved aside to let her pass since she wasn’t exactly stopping to greet him. “Not surprised to see me, doll-face?”

  He turned to watch her go into the bedroom right across the hall. Not bothering to shut the door, instead she dropped the towel and started to get dressed. Fuck, she was beautiful everywhere. Confident as fuck too.

  She turned to face him as she pulled on a T-shirt, sans bra. “No, I’m not. I figured that was you who called. And I know the OA came to see you.”

  “What do they have on you?” he asked. “Never mind. That’s why you want out.”

  “Even if I go with you, I can’t escape. Can’t change my name and keep my medical license. That’s how they’d track me. They have charters everywhere.” She paused. “You’re in one piece. They didn’t hurt Avery, did they? They promised they didn’t.”

  “My brother fucked your guys up.”

  “They’re not my guys. Trust me.” She stood in a pair of tight jeans and a black T-shirt, face free of makeup and a sleeve of tattoos ghosting down her left arm.

  “Grab your shit—I can’t leave you here. Not after Key beat the shit out of them.”

  “You’re not doing this out of pity, are you?”

  “Safety, not pity. The OA probably thinks you’re working with us, and they don’t know who we are.”

  She didn’t hesitate, swore under her breath as she scooped some things from her night table into a bag on the floor. She’d been planning on leaving either way, and because of what she’d done for Avery. “I’m not leaving my bike behind.”

  “We’ll get the symbol taken off ASAP. But you don’t have to leave it behind, no.”

  Her phone rang and she glanced at it.

  “Go ahead—answer,” he told her. She did, put it on speaker as a graveled voice said, “Drea, what the fuck?”

  “It was a favor for a friend, Dallas. Don’t get yourself twisted.”

  “You don’t tell me what the fuck to do, right? Get your ass to the clubhouse in five or I’m comin’ to get you.”

  “Okay,” she said, hung up and grabbed her bag. Jem took it from her and put it on the back of Key’s bike, since he’d be riding with Drea.

  “Go up the highway—get off two exits down and we’ll back-road it for a couple of miles. Gunner’s waiting an hour up and we’ll just pack the bikes into the van he’ll rent and move from there,” Key said. “And then maybe one of you can tell me what the fuck’s going on.”

  “I’m driving my own bike,” she told him, handed him a helmet.

  “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Wind in my ears can only improve shit in here.” He refused the helmet but climbed on behind her.

  “Jem, earlier, when I called you crazy . . .”

  “I do have papers,” he told her. “Not on me, of course. Now come on, sweetheart, give me the ride of my goddamned life.”

  • • •

  Gunner loaded Avery into the front seat, lowered all the way down. She was so sleepy and he didn’t want her bouncing around in the back. Key and Jem followed them until they got on the highway to make sure there was no tail on them, and then they branched off to go find Drea.

  “Jem’s going to get Drea back, isn’t he?” Avery asked in a sleepy voice.

  “You don’t miss anything, do you?”

  “You all talk very loudly,” she sniffed. “Is she okay?”

  “There’s something involving the OA.”

  “The motorcycle gang?”

  “They call themselves a club,” he said, heard her mutter, “Bullshit” and then, “Are Dare and Grace okay?”

  “Key said they’re waiting for us. We’re an hour out.”

  Now that the imminent danger of both the threat and her dying was over, she could feel the tension vibrating through Gunner. She was woozy from the drugs, and the adrenaline rush from earlier had most definitely passed.

  The thought of seeing Key, Grace and Dare made her stomach clench. The fact that she couldn’t recall anything from the files Landon showed her made her angry, and the guilt about not telling Gunner or Jem about it was crushing.

  “I hate seeing you look like that,” he said quietly. “I know you’re thinking about him.”

  She couldn’t deny it.

  “I will kill him, Avery.” He could barely get the words out. They were clipped, forced, coming through gritted teeth. It was the way he’d spoken to her when she and Jem were interrogating him, and she didn’t want that.

  “No. You’ll go to jail.”

  “It’ll be worth it.”

  She pulled in a deep breath, despite the fact that it hurt, and blurted out, “I’m going to be the one to take him down. I’ll need all of S8 to do it, but I will be the one who disgraces him and pulls the trigger. It’s not just for me, Gunner. It’s for us. I won’t let anyone get between us again, and that’s exactly what he’s done.”

  Her voice was firm and Gunner’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. She closed her eyes and let the pain meds wash over her.

  She wouldn’t remain a broken woman. She would save herself, Gunner and Section 8. And she would take the consequences, no matter what they were.

  “I don’t want you taking on my burdens, Avery,” he said finally.

  “Our burdens,” she told him, reached for his hand. The hum of the road quieted them both for the rest of the trip as she drifted in and out of sleep. She didn’t know how long it took to get to the next safe house, but she woke, blinked blearily as they pulled into a lit garage. Gunner watched the rearview mirror until the door closed firmly. She heard the beep of a house alarm and he said, “Dare and Grace are here. Jem and Key are close behind.”

  “They have Drea?”

  “Yeah, she’s safe.”

  “Good.” She wished she could go into the house on her own steam, because that would go a long way in reassuring both Gunner and Dare that she was fine. Grace would know she was full of shit either way, but dealing with the men required a little more subterfuge.

  Even if she could have walked on her own, Gunner wasn’t having it. He carried her the short distance from the attached garage through the doorway into the kitchen and finally into the living room where her brother and Grace waited.

  “I’ve got the bedroom over here all set up,” she heard Grace say, then felt the woman’s cool palm grip hers. She knew if she looked into Grace’s eyes, she’d lose it, and so she didn’t. Just squeezed Grace’s hand and Grace squeezed back.

  When Gunner put her down on the bed, Dare was hugging her gingerly. “Avery, fuck, you have no idea . . .”

  His voice broke and she did know. They were the only family each other had, barring S8. And they’d only found each other months before. “I’m okay, Dare. I will be. Please . . . it’s not Gunner’s fault.”

  He didn’t say anything about that. But he knew enough to avoid touching her in any of the places she’d been cut. He eased away from her, helped her back onto the pillows and she saw they were alone in the room. “Avery . . . don’t do that to me again.”

  She’d feel the same way if
Dare had done something like this. “I had reasons.”

  “Not good enough. You’re my family.” He squeezed her hand. “You rest, okay? We’ll deal with all of it when you’re better. I don’t want you to worry. About anything.”

  She nodded and then Grace was in the room and Dare was leaving. She grabbed Grace’s wrist, told her, “Don’t let them treat me like . . .”

  “Like a woman?” Grace finished. “Good luck with that.”

  There was a knock on the door and after Grace called, “Come in,” the door opened and Drea stuck her head in hesitantly.

  “Sorry, I just wanted to see if you needed anything.”

  Avery waved the woman in. “Grace, this is Drea. She’s the doctor who helped me.”

  “We owe you, Drea.”

  “And now I owe all of you.” Drea hugged her arms around herself.

  “Seems to be an epidemic around here,” Grace murmured.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Drea had stayed in the room with Avery and Grace until the meeting with the guys had broken up. Without Grace or Avery there—especially without Avery there—it hadn’t felt right.

  But at least they were all in agreement that she needed a part in this. That none of them would ever rest if they’d been in her shoes.

  Now Drea came out of the bedroom behind Grace, after Gunner went inside and closed the door. Grace took Dare’s hand and Jem motioned to the couch. “It pulls out. You can sleep there and I’ll take the chair, okay?”

  He’d given Key the last bedroom, mainly because he needed to figure some shit out about their newest houseguest. He pulled out the bed—Grace had already put sheets on it, and put pillows and a comforter on the chair. When he finished, she stripped out of her jeans and crawled under the covers.

  He snagged a pillow and made himself comfortable in the recliner closest to the door, his weapon tucked in by his side. The security cams were in easy viewing range and so far it was all quiet.

  “Was Avery okay?” he asked.

  “I think so. She and Grace have both been through a lot, it sounds like. They’re . . . nice. I didn’t expect them to be so nice to me,” she said honestly.