Chapter 14

Ariana

14

It's still dark out.

I don't know how long it's been since I left the clubhouse, but the city of Everton rises far ahead with its twinkling lights scattered along the ridged horizon. Mountains reign supremely behind, as I realize I still have a few miles to go before I reach civilization again.

At least it's quiet, though I wish at least one car could make its way down this long, winding road. I'm no fan of hitchhiking, but my feet are tired. My whole body is nearing exhaustion, though I think it's because of the impending crash from the initial adrenaline rush.

Countless thoughts go through my head, most of them erratic and constantly throwing me for a loop. Any other person in their right mind would thank the heavens for having made it out of the clubhouse. I should be elated. Running away as fast as I can.

But instead, I'm walking slowly.

Doubting my decision.

What do I tell the authorities? I don't know who took me. They were wearing masks. I don't know their names. They never spoke to me. They just threw me in the trunk of a car and drove off.

What kind of car? I don't know, it was dark.

I should just tell them the truth, that it was the Steel Knights who took me. Why does it feel so wrong to consider that? If Sky, Kendric, and Raylan wanted something from my father, they should've gone through the legal channels.

But then I remember the look on Paulie's face, the kids at the community center, and the teens working at their hidden tip line. I remember all the people I met while I was their captive, all the people they've helped, and I can already picture a SWAT team swarming the clubhouse and tearing it to shreds in search of evidence.

I can see Shiloh, Spike, and the others down on the ground as they get slapped with cuffs and read their Miranda rights. The mere thought of seeing Sky, Kendric, and Raylan in chains sends the worst kind of shivers down my spine.

No, I can't tell the truth. I don't want to. The Steel Knights are doing actual good for the community, for the people of Everton. I'd rather be their advocate.

"I'll blame amnesia," I whisper to myself, barely registering the subtle light growing somewhere behind me. Amnesia always works. I'll tell them I conked my head or something.

The sound of an engine startles me.

I jump to the side of the road as the car stops a few yards away from me. It's a black sedan with New Hampshire plates. A man steps out of the driver's side, looks at me, and smiles.

"You're Ariana David. I wasn't sure at first," he says, his voice soft and mellow.

"Do I know you?" I ask, trembling with equal parts fear and relief.

I can't make out his features in the dark. The moon and stars hide behind thickening clouds, and I can smell rain coming. I can see enough of the driver to gradually become more at ease. He's tall and well-built. His black suit looks custom-tailored, the top buttons of his shirt left loose. Between the car and the way he's dressed, it makes him seem official.

"No, but I definitely know you," he replies with a warm, reassuring smile. "I'm Eric Masterson. Special Agent for the Federal Bureau of Investigation. I've been watching that clubhouse for about a month now."

"Oh."

All I can do is stare at him in genuine disbelief. I know from what the guys told me that no form of law enforcement could enter the top floor of the clubhouse without a search warrant. And that the MC's lawyers were working overtime to clog the local court with enough injunctions and complaints to keep the cops and the Feds busy enough not to have sufficient cause for busting down every door, including the one to my room.

"I couldn't come in legally," he says, as if reading my mind.

"Yeah, I figured that out," I mutter. "Have you been following me?"

"I honestly wasn't sure it was you," Masterson says, then shows me his badge. It looks legitimate enough from where I'm standing, yet there's a part of me that says to keep still, to maintain a safe distance until I'm sure that I can trust him. "I saw you running out of the parking lot, but I couldn't exactly approach you right then and there, either."

"How long have you been following me?"

"About forty-five minutes."

"It feels like I've been walking longer than that."

"I can imagine," he says. "You were locked in there this whole time?"

I nod once, already preparing my statement in my head. The sucky part is that this guy already knows that the Steel Knights were holding me. So, keeping their name out of the whole thing has just gone out the window. A new plan is needed, and my mind isn't working fast enough at the moment. "Yeah," I say. "I was able to climb out the window."

"You couldn't do that before? Did they have someone in the room with you at all times?"

"No, there were bars on the window. It took me a while to get the frame loose so that I could get out," I tell him.

He smiles, genuinely impressed. "You were patient."

"I didn't have any other choice," I say.

Masterson takes a step forward, and I instinctively move back. "It's okay," he says. "You're safe now, Ariana. And your father will be over the moon to see you again. I'm sorry I didn't approach you sooner, but I needed to be sure it was you. Had you been some other girl, I ran the risk of the Steel Knights finding out that I was watching the clubhouse."

"They know they're being watched," I bluntly reply.

"Not by the Feds, they don't," he shoots back with a cool grin. "The mayor looped us in about two weeks ago. We agreed to keep everything quiet while the lawyers battle it out in court. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. I guess. Yeah, I'm okay."

"Can I give you a ride back into the city?"

I should be jumping into this man's arms, thrilled to have been found. Maybe my time with Sky, Kendric, and Raylan has left me overly suspicious of absolutely everyone. All that talk about the so-called Black Hand, the conspiracy theories … may have burrowed deep enough into my mind to have me feeling paranoid before a man who is clearly here to save me. I shake the thoughts away and move toward his car.

"Yes, take me home, please," I say. "Thank you."

"You really don't need to thank me," he replies, opening the passenger door for me.

I get in and strap my belt on, then give him a curious look. "You weren't out there all the time, were you?"

"No, my colleagues and I took turns in eight-hour shifts, but even then, we couldn't guarantee that we'd know everything going on inside that clubhouse," he says. "Not without government-sanctioned surveillance, anyway. And that requires warrants."

"Right. Yeah, that makes sense." I just hope he's not aware that I'm only asking so I know what lies to tell when I do get interviewed over this entire incident.

"For what it's worth, I didn't see anyone moving in and around the clubhouse after you escaped. All the lights remained off," Masterson says. "Chances are, they won't realize you're gone until the morning."

All I can do is nod slowly as he turns the key in the ignition and drives off into the night. I should feel relieved, dammit, so why don't I? Why am I still worried and anxious, like I'm sitting on a razor's edge? It should be over. I should feel truly safe, yet I don't. I'm looking over my shoulder, searching for the tiniest light somewhere behind us. What am I hoping for?

As the minutes roll by in silence, Masterson keeps his eyes on the road. Every once in a while, he gives me a brief glance, probably just to check whether I'm asleep or not. Gradually, I get more comfortable in my seat. There is mellow soul music playing at a low volume. It helps soothe my nerves.

He hasn't asked me any questions yet. I'm guessing he is biding his time, having realized that I'm still in some sort of fight-or-flight state that might trigger unpleasant reactions. I'm quiet because I'm trying to figure out how to make the authorities understand that I was never in any real danger with the Steel Knights. It sounds weird, though, no matter how I put it.

"Did they give you water?" Masterson finally asks.

"Yes, food, too. They were actually quite kind and courteous," I tell him. "They never planned on hurting me."

"How did they take you?"

I lower my gaze, face burning hot. "With a gun pointed at my head. They broke into my apartment."

"But they never planned on hurting you," he says with an edge of sarcasm.

"Listen, Agent Masterson, the truth is, whatever beef they have, it's with my dad. They were just trying to get his attention."

"Yet they made no claim whatsoever. No ransom request, either. They sent a photo of you. Where was that taken?"

Heat spreads through my chest. "I'm not sure. I don't remember."

"The metadata suggests it's recent. You were supposed to be a captive, but you weren't tied up nor indoors in that photograph," Masterson replies. His tone is calm, but even so, I can smell his suspicions from a mile away. I may not be able to dampen the impact here, no matter how I spin the story. I might as well just give him as much of the truth as possible but keep the more intimate details out. "So where was it taken, Ariana?"

"They took me out of the clubhouse a few times," I concede with a heavy sigh. "They wanted to show me around Everton, to show me parts of it that I don't normally see. Not on TV, not on the news. They wanted me to see for myself that my father hasn't been doing what he promised in his role as mayor."

"And they had to kidnap you for this?"

I can't blame him for sounding so incredulous. Hell, I'd laugh in my face if I were in his shoes. But he doesn't know the details. He cannot possibly understand what's going on in my heart, how I feel when I'm with Sky, Kendric and Raylan.

He wasn't there, he never sat down and had an honest and open conversation with them about anything. As far as Masterson is concerned, the Steel Knights are simply criminals who kidnapped the mayor's daughter, and he's the one who plucked me from the side of the road.

By all possible measures, he's the hero, and they're the bad guys.

"They never told me the whole plan," I say after a heavy pause. "Only that they needed me as leverage to get him to do what he knew he had to do."

"And what's that?" Masterson asks.

I admire his profile for a moment. His features are intensely masculine and chiseled. He looks like one of the guys you'd see in a J. Crew catalog. Good looking, charming, well-dressed, clean-shaven. The kind of man you bring home to meet your parents.

"The right thing," I reply. "That's all they ever said. That my father needs to do the right thing."

"Didn't you wonder what that meant?"

"Of course. But I also know about the task force that my father is putting together to go after the Steel Knights. I guess that it involves that, among other things. Agent Masterson, I'm telling you, the situation is a lot more complicated and more nuanced than you might think."

"That is for the DA to untangle, Ariana. To me, the situation seems pretty simple, regardless of their motive," Masterson says. "They kidnapped you at gunpoint. They took you out of your home and kept you in that clubhouse against your will. That is a crime, and it is severely punishable. I don't care what their intentions were."

I give him a weary look, growing increasingly worried about what will happen to the guys once we're back in the city. "Have you ever heard about the Black Hand?" I ask Masterson.

"What's that?" he replies, dark eyes on the road, always on the road.

"It's some sort of secret organization," I say. "The Steel Knights insist that they're pulling some strings in the city, doing backdoor deals, bribing, extorting powerful people, stuff like that."

"And what does this Black Hand have to do with what happened to you?"

"Nothing. Not directly, anyway. They think my father is involved with them, either knowingly or unknowingly. They wouldn't tell me anything more about it, though. They kept saying I wasn't ready to hear the truth. If there's any truth to it, it would make sense. I've seen what the Steel Knights do, Agent Masterson. They're not terrorizing the city, and they're not running heaps of drugs and guns through the district like the media says," I reply, now regretting that I didn't push them more on this particular topic. Had I learned more, maybe I could have made a better case in their favor because right now, I'm sounding like a tinfoil hat nut with Stockholm Syndrome.

"What are they doing then?"

"Well, for starters, they've got a tip line for people who want to report crimes in Everton but don't trust the police. Apparently, a lot of uniforms are beholden to the Black Hand. State troopers and the sheriff's department, too."

His grip on the wheel tightens until his knuckles turn white. He suddenly looks angry. Or insulted. Or both. "And how does this tip line operate, exactly? Where is it located?"

"I'm sorry, I can't tell you where they are, but I know for a fact that they pass any credible information that they get over to officers they trust within the local PD," I say. "And most of their leads have resulted in arrests and convictions. They have a history to prove it."

"You almost sound like you admire them. Are you trying to protect your kidnappers?"

"I'm just trying to explain that they mean well."

Masterson briefly looks at me, unabashedly doubtful. We reach a fork in the road and he takes a right turn. We seem to be moving away from the city, and I am left puzzled, staring ahead as my brain scrambles to make sense of it all.

"I'm sorry this happened to you, Ariana. No one should be dragged into somebody else's mess, especially when I'm the one who has to clean it up."

My senses flare, my nape tingling as I look around. The road is getting darker as the city lights fade somewhere to our left while deeper and deeper woods rise before us. "Wait, where are we going?"

"I wish I didn't have to do this," Masterson says.

Something has changed. His tone is colder. His voice is lower. It's sending shivers down my spine while all the blood in my body rushes up to my head. "What are you talking about?" I ask, my voice trembling as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

"Had you not been so adamant to advocate for the Steel Knights, I would've taken you back to Everton," he says. "Nobody believes the whole Black Hand story, not without supporting evidence. You have that, though. And I'm going to burn the whole MC to the ground."

And then it hits me. The cold, hard, and unforgiving truth.

"Oh, God, you're one of them," I mumble.

"I'm one of what?"

"The Black Hand."

"You make it sound like it's a terrible thing, Ariana, but it's not. We all do what needs to be done in order to keep this country safe and clean. Freedom isn't free," he says.

He seemed so credible up until that wretched fork.

"What are you going to do?" I ask, instantly regretting the question because the blank look on his face is already telling me everything I need to know.

"I can't let you go back home now," Masterson says. "I can't take you back to the clubhouse, either. There are players on the board I cannot expose. I can't let you talk to anyone about the MC's activities, especially in relation to the Black Hand. If you want to blame anybody for what I have to do, Ariana, you can blame your father. Had he simply done what we told him to do from the very beginning, none of us would be in the positions we're in now. And you'd still be at home, soaking in a hot tub with a glass of wine, oblivious to this real world of ours."

"Does the FBI sanction what you're planning to do to me?"

"God, no," he nervously laughs. "But I have to do it anyway. That's what happens when you're beholden to the Black Hand. You play their game, or you're off the board. And when you're off the board, Ariana, it's worse than death, trust me. Death would be the sweetest release. Few of their foes were lucky enough to meet such a fate."

"You sound insane," I whisper.

"Maybe a tad dramatic, but I'm telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you," he says. "You're going to die tonight, anyway. What would be the point?"

My blood runs cold. Horror washes over me as panic sets in. I keep trying to open the door, despair taking hold of my limbs as I struggle to find freedom again. This time, however, I fear I may have landed in worse trouble than before. This man intends to kill me, and there's no one around to help me.

Not when there is nobody aware that I escaped in the first place.