Marked for Death Page 7

  Lost in her own thoughts, she failed to see the danger until it was on top of her. Her first indication of a problem was a dirty hand reaching around from behind to clamp tightly over her mouth. Suddenly, she was being dragged backward, toward the old, run-down family cemetery. Images flashed through her mind of dying and Ryder finding her body among the vintage tombstones.

  An image came to mind of the killer using her to lure Ryder out of the cabin. She clawed at the huge hand and reached out for something to grab onto. In a blur of motion, he flung her against a fence post and held her there.

  Pressing his bulky body into hers, the man whispered in her ear, “Didn’t expect to see me here, did you? I knew they weren’t gonna transfer someone with bullet holes to another hospital.”

  Easing his hand back off her mouth, he grasped her almost gently around the throat. It might be considered a lover’s rough sex pose, like from the movies, if it weren’t for the situation.

  She stared up at him, transfixed by the pain twisting his dark features. “You followed us?” Somehow, it didn’t compute.

  “Call for him.” The man’s voice turned soft and he eased back on his grip around her throat.

  Tiffany knew better than to fight him. His hold would just tighten back up.

  Swallowing thickly, she tried to get him to see reason. “He’s real sick. Can’t you just leave him alone?”

  “Ryder got himself a pretty little true-blue nurse. Ain’t that real special?” the man sneered, his stale breath making her stomach churn.

  “It doesn’t have to be this way,” she said, trying to keep the panic from her voice. “You’re going to keep it up until you’re both dead.”

  “Did you fall for that dirty bastard?”

  Blinking, she didn’t answer. Something told her the truth would only set him off more.

  Bringing his face closer to hers, his crazy eyes bore into hers and he whispered, “I think maybe you even like him enough to die for him today.”

  Tiffany felt the fear in her gut begin to dissipate. He was trying to intimidate her, but in her line of work, she wasn’t easily intimidated. “I can’t see you letting me live either way. I’ve got no incentive to cooperate.”

  Her gut told a different story. For some godforsaken reason, she didn’t think he was going to kill her. It was something about the way he held her, like he was being stern but careful not to hurt her.

  Then again, maybe she was imagining things. Maybe this was what Stockholm syndrome felt like. Was she so terrified that she needed to humanize her would-be killer? At this particular point in time, she couldn’t say one way or the other.

  “You can die slow or you can die fast. Call him out here and it’ll be real fast and painless. Fuck me over and I will make you suffer.” He was saying all the right words to scare the piss out of her, but his voice was off. He sounded almost disgusted with himself.

  This man who had generated such fear was slowly earning himself an ounce of compassion in her heart. He was conflicted and genuinely screwed up in the head.

  Bringing her hands up to grasp him gently around the wrist, Tiffany spoke as softly as she would to one of her patients. “It doesn’t matter if I call him or not. He’s not rash enough to come running to my rescue. He barely knows me. I don’t want him to kill you like he did your brother.”

  The man’s rough voice took on a thick layer of emotion. “The dirty bastard told you about my brother. Ryder isn’t fit to speak his name.”

  “Just because you say it doesn’t make it true. You know there are two sides to every story.”

  His fingers around her throat loosened again. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” he mused. “Do you really think he’s any better than me?” He bared his teeth. “Trust me, he ain’t. He’s exactly like me, only a little younger and better looking.”

  “Don’t forget smarter.”

  Almost smiling, the man shook his head. “Whatever. Deep down inside, his soul is just as black as mine.”

  Tiffany swallowed thickly. “You’re just trying to scare me. You don’t even sound mad anymore.”

  He tilted his head. “Why would an innocent little nurse be defending a piece of garbage like Ryder? That don’t hardly make no sense to me.”

  “He’s not garbage.”

  “He is. You’re protecting garbage from garbage, and it’s about to cost you your life. Is that what you want?”

  “You’re just being a badass. Neither of you is garbage and you know it.”

  All the air left her lungs when Ryder’s deep voice sounded off behind them. “Take your hands off the nice little nurse, Ace. This is between you and me.”

  The man Ryder had referred to as Ace flipped them both around. Ryder stood there in the new clothing she’d bought him with one hand tucked behind his back. Instinctively, she knew he had the gun she’d given him back there.

  Ace must have suspected as much, because he tried to hang onto her with one hand while the other went for his gun. Twisting away, she managed to break free and darted off to the side, taking cover behind a large stump and covering her head with both hands.

  She squeezed her eyes closed with every bit of strength she had just before two gunshots sounded off, fired at the same time.

  A moment later, Ryder called her name, and she leaped up, running to him without thinking. He’d taken another bullet in the arm and was dribbling blood. Quickly looking at it, she murmured, “It looks like a grazing type injury. At least you don’t have another bullet inside you.”

  Tearing off his shirt, she used it to compress the bleeding.

  “Wish I could say the same for this fucker,” Ryder growled.

  Remembering Ace, Tiffany turned to kneel down and tend to his injuries. Before she even made it to the ground, Ryder grabbed her arm and hauled her back up to her feet.

  “I don’t want you within twenty paces of him.”

  “He’s injured,” she protested, the need to help rearing up inside her. “You’ve got a gun. That makes you the person in control. Let me make sure he doesn’t die.”

  Shaking his head, he stated flatly, “Jesus, you seriously don’t understand how this shit works, do you?”

  Squaring her shoulders, she said, “I’m a registered nurse. I’m not going to stand here and watch him bleed out.”

  “Fuckin’ fine, see to him, but make it quick,” Ryder snapped. “I won’t take any more chances with your pretty little ass. He’s goddamned dangerous.”

  Stooping again, she pried Ace’s cut open in the front. Searching around, she found the bullet wound. It was on his leg. Glancing up, her eyes met his. Ace looked embarrassed to have not taken a kill shot. Her estimation of him went up a notch. Even though he pretended to be a tough guy, Ace was no killer.

  “You didn’t hit any major arteries. I need something to tie around this.” Bringing her hands to the bottom of her T-shirt, she heard Ryder gasp behind her.

  “No fucking way. Don’t even think about bearing those…” Realizing he was being an ass, he broke off, pressing his lips together.

  Tiffany’s hand moved down, grasping the handle of a large hunting knife in a sheath around Ace’s waist. Pulling it out, she cut about eight inches off the bottom of her T-shit, and then cut it open to make a long, thick bandage. Wrapping it around his wound, she tied it off tight. Moving one of his dirty hands, she pressed it over the wound.

  “Keep pressure on it until the bleeding slows.”

  Nodding, Ace’s eyes slid away.

  Peering up at Ryder, she spoke. “He’s going to be fine. How’s about you two stop shooting at each other for the rest of the day?”

  Grudgingly, Ryder pulled the man to his feet and dragged him into the house. Following after him, shock tore through her as Tiffany watched him shove the injured man into a closet and slam the door shut before bracing it with a chair.

  She approached him quietly. “Rider…you can’t just throw a gunshot victim in my closet.”

 
“Look, doll, we underestimated him. Sorry about using your closet, but we ain’t got a lot of choices here. Please fetch me one of the prepaid phones. I’ll call my club brothers and they’ll come for him. In a couple of hours, this whole ugly mess will be ancient history.”

  Tiffany stood idle, unsure what more she could do. He was dead set on this, and she had a feeling nothing she could say or do would change his mind. “Okay, Ryder, whatever you say.”

  Cupping her face in his hand, Ryder spoke tenderly. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  She heard the man banging on the closet door and trying to rattle the handle. This was insane. Instead of arguing the point, though, she fetched Ryder the phone he asked for.

  He didn’t waste any time dialing out. “Hey, bro, it’s me. Of fuckin’ course I got him. I need the package picked up ASAP. I’m going to log into that follow me app. It should take you straight to my location. You better get here soon ‘cause it’s all I can do not to put another bullet in him.”

  There was a dramatic pause before Ryder turned his body slightly away. “I shot him in the leg. My nurse says he’s gonna be fine.”

  Pacing back and forth, he listened as the other man spoke. “Don’t you fuckin’ worry about her. Just get your ass here and pick him up,” he barked.

  Leaning against the wall, he spoke gruffly. “I already know that. I caught three bullets on this one. I only shot the crazy fucker once. That is restraint, in my humble-ass opinion.” Rolling his eyes, he listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. “Great. We’ll see you in an hour.”

  He fiddled with the phone for a few minutes then snapped it shut. “My brothers got worried and came looking for me at the hospital. They’re about an hour from here.”

  Between trying to process the events of her very surreal day, trying to communicate with the always enigmatic Ryder, and listening to the man trying to escape from her closet, Tiffany finally snapped. “Can you ask him to stop beating on my closet door?”

  Rider smiled slightly. “Is that a real question?”

  “I’m sorry. I feel like I am about to lose it.”

  He promptly banged against the door with the butt of his gun. “Hey, asshole, I don’t particularly care if my club wanted me to show restraint or not. If you bang again, I’m putting a bullet through the door. You’re choice.”

  The noise immediately stopped. Tilting his head, he quipped, “Easy peasy.”

  Folding her arms over her chest, she glared at him. “You don’t seem to be very put out by getting shot again or locking a hostage in my closet.”

  A lopsided grin slid onto his face. “This ain’t my first rodeo, babe.”

  Chewing her bottom lip, she worried over the undeserving man. “Any idea what your friends are going to do to him?”

  “Don’t know or care. My job was to find him. We’ll sit down at church and everyone will vote on his fate. I don’t much care for killing him, but I ain’t interested in spending the rest of my life looking over my shoulder either.”

  The man’s raspy voice sounded off through the door. “Fine, we can call a fucking truce.”

  Ryder banged the door. “Now ain’t the time, slimeball.”

  Tiffany’s brow furrowed. “You’re so cavalier about violence and death. I can’t say that I like that about you.”

  “Men like me have seen a lot of fighting and been through a lot of shit, doll. Just because I’m hardened to it all don’t mean I expect you to be.”

  Ace groaned. “Shit, you two. Get a fuckin’ room.”

  Rolling his eyes, Ryder ignored him. “Just hang tough through this one situation. I promise, no more ridin’ dirty.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “Means he won’t be running drugs or guns no more,” Ace’s muffled voice reached out to them.

  Ryder banged the door hard enough to split the wood. “Will you shut the fuck up, Ace? You ain’t helpin’ my case.”

  Tiffany looked between the door and the man she was quickly falling in love with. “I can’t do this right now, with an honest to goodness hostage in the closet.”

  “Fuckin’ fine, be that way.” Ryder kicked the chair away from bracing the door and opened the closet. Grabbing the man, he dragged him into the kitchen and threw him down into a chair.

  “Why don’t you make our stalker some freakin’ coffee? We’ll treat him like an honored guest.” Ryder was totally off the chain at this point, allowing his anger and frustration to get the better of him.

  Tiffany bristled at his tone. Stalking over to the coffee machine, she spat back, “You are really unbelievable. I hope you know that.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to feed him tea and crumpets, princess.”

  Tiffany hit the on switch and turned to face both men. Folding her arms over her chest, she studied them intently. Ace was a real piece of work. He screamed lone wolf, unhinged, and a little psychotic. Though he put forth a herculean effort to hide it, she could see defeat stamped over every square inch of his face. He was, in her opinion, nothing more than a regular guy pushed to his breaking point.

  The man standing beside him with her small gun clutched firmly in his hand was in crisis mode as well. Ryder’s face was weary, and he clearly felt his back was against the wall. He was certainly a man hardened to the ugliness of the world around him.

  Perhaps that’s what made him belligerent and cynical at times. Stress certainly brought out his dark side. Still, she’d be lying if she said that’s all there was to him. Ryder was also intelligent, brave, funny, flirtatious, and very direct. She wasn’t used to his particular brand of outright honesty, but she definitely liked it.

  Maybe the other man possessed similar qualities. He was too overwhelmed with fear and grief over his brother for any of it to shine though at the moment though.

  The different perspective she brought to the situation was that of a medical professional. In her world, everyone mattered, most especially the dirty, injured, grieving ones. Did both men frighten her? The answer would be a giant hell yes. The real problem was that neither of them scared her half as much as they should.

  “I want the two of you to work out this little problem,” she announced. She watched as shock tore through both men.

  “What the fuck, Tiff?”

  Lifting her chin, she said, “You heard me. Ace is right about one thing. You two are as bad as each other. Use that as your common ground.”

  “Shit. You don’t want him dead, do you?” Ryder questioned.

  “Why would any woman want to stand by and see people kill each other? He’s a huge, strapping biker. Seems like a waste to just kill him. Surely to God, two grown men can settle their differences without resorting to repeatedly shooting each other.”

  Waving one hand dramatically to make her point, she trained her eyes on both of them. “I’m getting real tired of patching you two up. Just make up already.”

  “He shot me, twice.” Ryder’s indignant voice was almost funny.

  “And you somehow managed to kill his brother.” There was nothing goddamn funny about that.

  “I ain’t apologizing for that shit. The bastard raped my sister. He had it coming. I tried to head him off, but he wouldn’t stop. He just kept coming.”

  Ace’s head came up. “The little pretty one?”

  Ryder kicked his chair violently. “Shut the fuck up. You know I only have the one.”

  The dirty man pressed a hand against his leg wound. “I didn’t know he did that. Your sister’s real young.”

  Ryder was practically vibrating with anger. “Stop talking about her.”

  Banging coffee mugs down on the table, Tiffany looked from one man to the other. “Work it out. I’m going to go take a shower. If you two shoot each other again, I swear I will leave you where you drop.”

  As she stalked off, she heard Ace comment, “Feisty one.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that. In fact, don’t look at her either.”

  “
You can’t keep people from looking at other fucking people, dimwit.”

  “I’m the motherfucker with the gun,” Ryder argued.

  Tiffany shook her head. She was sick and tired of getting caught between the feuding men. As her temples began to throb, she realized she was stressed beyond her breaking point. At this point, they could both kill each other and she’d step right over them and bake cookies.

  Ryder glared at the man sitting in front of him. Even if Tiffany could find some compassion in her heart for the man, he sure the hell couldn’t.

  “Sorry about your sister, man. I didn’t know.”

  “She’s fucking fourteen.”

  “Jesus. I can’t believe he did that.”

  Ryder wasn’t having any of this bullshit denial. “You’re going to start out by lying to me?”

  “All right, I can fuckin’ believe he did it,” Ace amended. “I wish everything was back the way it was before it all went to hell.”

  Dropping into a seat across the table, Ryder crammed the gun in his pocket and grabbed his coffee. “You’ve been out of the slammer, what, a week? You attacked a man, shot him twice, stalked him over the state line, and shot him again after threatening to kill a woman. Jesus, it’s like you’re fast tracking yourself to death row.”

  Ryder watched as the man wrapped his dirty hands around the warm mug of coffee. “I should have been there for him.”

  “You were doing time for the sick son of bitch. How much more being there could you be for your brother?”

  Ace stared down into the mug. “I must have failed him for him to not understand how wrong it is to touch a kid.”

  “Nobody failed anybody. He had exactly the same fuckin’ parents you did,” Ryder snarled. “He was born fuckin’ as selfish as they come. You ain’t got control over nobody but you, man. The sooner you see that, the sooner you’re gonna get your life back on track.”

  “What fuckin’ life?” Ace murmured, sounding defeated.