Chapter Two

Morgue

"Motherfuckers." I muttered the curse as I fired off another round. This one got the driver of the truck. The vehicle drifted sharply off the road and into a huge rock. Men standing in the back firing over the cab flew forward and into the sand of the surrounding area. "Clutch! We got 'em! Hard stop!"

Clutch, our road captain, stopped the truck at an angle so we'd have a better defensive position if these bastards were in any shape to fight back. The three of us in the Humvee with the women jumped out and moved quickly toward the wrecked vehicle.

Three men had been thrown from the wrecked vehicle. Each man I passed, I shot in the head twice. Just to make sure. The driver of the truck groaned. Deacon reached him first. When Deacon didn't immediately shoot the bastard, I raised my gun to do the job.

"Morgue, stop!" I ground my teeth in frustration as Brick, the vice president of Iron Tzars, shoved my gun hand upward to prevent the kill. "We need to get some answers from someone in this fucking cesspool. With everyone else dead, he's nominated."

"Needs to die," I bit out.

"He will." Brick put himself between me and the bastard. I growled and tried to peer around Brick, but he was a wide son of a bitch. "Just not before he tells us who else is involved in this ring." When I still tried to get around him, Brick slammed the palm of his hand against the middle of my chest, forcibly making me stop. "Morgue," Brick said warningly. "Back the fuck off. Now."

I grunted before turning away and stomping back to the truck. We'd only managed to rescue five women from that place. Of the three other women in those rooms, two were already dead and the last one died when we tried to move her. One of the five we had in the truck looked like she might be barely in her teens. If that. All of them were in pretty bad shape, but the woman I'd carried out seemed to be the worst. I calculated the odds she'd make it back to Evansville at about thirty percent.

As I approached the truck, one of the women gave a strangled cry. There was a commotion and a lot of thumping before there was another yelp.

"You're all right. You're all right." Stitches, the club doctor, tried to soothe his patient. When I reached the truck and poked my head under the tarp, I saw him hold out a bottle of water to the woman I'd helped earlier. She looked decidedly more awake but more than a little terrified. "Just took the edge off the drug they gave you."

"What the fuck'd you do to 'er?" The demand came from me before I even truly realized I was going to speak.

Stitches glanced over his shoulder at me with a raised eyebrow. "Gave her some Narcan. They had her doped up. Bit harsh when it hits."

"Then why'd you do it? She was breathin' on her own and shit."

The look Stitches gave me had my back up. It was the look a doctor gave an armchair quarterback when being questioned about something medical. "Several reasons. First and foremost, because it's none of your Goddamned business. I'm the fuckin' doctor. Not you. You don't get to question me."

I ground my teeth together as I holstered my pistol. I'd already slung my rifle around my neck and secured it to my vest. I needed both weapons at the ready in case there were more of these fuckers we'd missed. The woman sat up, her breathing harsh and ragged. Her eyes were wide open, and she'd started to sweat. "She still looks like crap, but she looked better before you started workin' on her. What the fuck, Stitches?"

He huffed out an annoyed breath. "Either go looking for more of those bastards or shut up and get in the damned truck."

"Your bedside manner needs a little work," I groused, but I climbed in the back of the Humvee. I heard a couple more shots around us, then Deacon and Smoke hopped back in and Crush took off. The woman screamed, swatting at Stitches and looking around wide-eyed.

"Ohmigod! What happened? Holy shit!" She looked at Stitches, but her gaze darted around like she was trapped and looking for someone to pounce on her.

"Just a little take-me-down." Stitches was only half paying attention to her as he fiddled with her IV, injecting something into it that seemed to help her. She didn't have that drugged look about her she had before, but she wasn't jumping out of her skin. "There. Try to take some deep breaths. The medicine I gave you will wear off in thirty minutes, so don't fight it when it happens."

"I don't want to be like that again. I need to have my wits about me." She looked terrified. As she should be.

"I know and I'm sorry. I'll get you more as soon as we get on the plane, but I've only got a limited supply, so unless I'm afraid you're gonna lose your airway I'm gonna have to let it wear off. Just needed to make sure there was nothing that needed immediate medical attention. Now, look at me." She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before letting her breath out slowly. When she opened her eyes, she was steadier. "Good. Now. What's your name?" Stitches spoke kindly but firmly, taking charge without being bossy or abrasive.

"Dorothy."

"Good. That's good. Where you from, Dorothy?"

"I'm, uh…" She cleared her throat. "Liberal, Kansas."

Stitches chuckled. "Really. Dorothy Gale's hometown?"

"Yeah. But my last name ain't Gale. And though I like the book and the movie, any Wizard of Oz references will be met with swift and brutal retaliation." Her eyes were clearer than they had been, but her words were still slightly slurred. She'd definitely been drugged, and was still fighting despite the medication to reverse it.

Stitches gave the woman what was probably a charming smile. I wanted to kill the smug bastard for looking at her. "Not a one. I swear."

Dorothy gave him a half grin that didn't look like she meant it. It was the only reason I was gonna let Stitches live. "Not many people can keep from it. I mean, if I only had a brain…" She glanced around but quickly closed her eyes and groaned. "Where's the guy who pulled me out of that hellhole?"

That's right, Stitches. She asked for me. Not you. And fuck you anyway. I cleared my throat. "Me," I said. "I got you out."

She looked up at me, her lips parting. She nodded. "Yes. It's you." Her breath started coming quicker and tears formed in her eyes. "Are you real?" Her voice shook, and I wasn't really sure what to say or do to make it stop. And as glad as I'd been when she asked for me, I'd give up her recognition if she just wouldn't cry. Yeah. I was fucked.

"Last time I checked," I muttered. The sarcastic reply just tumbled off my lips. As a rule, I was pretty close-lipped, but that just meant my brain was able to keep up with my mouth. I thought plenty that needed to stay in my head, but occasionally it would slip. Like in situations of extreme duress. Like when faced with this woman's tears. And it wasn't women's tears in general I was averse to. In my experience, women used tears as a way to manipulate. No. I knew in my heart I'd do anything… anything… to prevent this woman from crying.

To my surprise, she let out a small bark of laughter. "I guess that's all I could ask for." The tears still came, but she managed a genuine smile. "Thank you so fucking much."

"You're welcome." I cleared my throat and looked away, but settled myself close to her so we sat side by side.

She took a deep breath once again before looking at Stitches again. "Other than several beatings, I wasn't hurt. They kept me drugged most of the time, but they hadn't raped me yet. Not like some of the others." She shivered and I glanced around. Most of the other women were either passed out or asleep. One gave her a steady look before nodding her head at Dorothy. I wasn't sure if it was a show of solidarity or just an acknowledgment of the shared trauma, but Dorothy nodded back.

"All right, then. What hurts the most?"

"My ribs." She groaned and raised her shirt so Stitches could see her side. "Bastard kicked me just before everything went to hell. Other than that, just the drugs. Pretty sure it was heroin or some kind of opioid."

"It was. The Narcan's all the proof I need of that. Only question is what else did they give you? Probably nothing else since you responded so well."

"Well, I guess that's something." She sat back and I hooked my arm around her. If she noticed, she didn't mind. Just lay against me with her head on my shoulder like she fucking belonged there.

"Yeah." Stitches grinned. "I suppose it is. You OK with that buffoon all up in your shit?"

She nodded. "Yeah. He feels safe."

"All right, then. It won't be too long until the Narcan wears off. Don't fight it. I'm watching over you, and Morgue there won't let anything happen to you."

Her gaze snapped to mine, and I decided Stitches would indeed have to die. "Morgue?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Stitches beat me to it. "Yep. You heard right, little girl. His name's Morgue."

"Why's that?"

I shot Stitches a look that let the bastard know he was dead meat. "Just is."

Stitches snorted. "Because your man there has sent more people to the morgue than all of us combined."

To my surprise, Dorothy gave me a slow nod. "Good. You won't let those bastards take me back, then." She said it like it was a foregone conclusion, but I could see the question and vulnerability in her eyes.

"No, honey. I won't let them near you."

"Good, ‘cause my head's startin' 'ta spin 'gain."

"I've got you. Just hang on to me. I'll keep you safe."

Instead of responding, Dorothy closed her eyes and gave in to the drug invading her system. I looked up at Stitches. "When this is over and they're all safe, I'm gonna kill you."

Stitches shrugged. "Get in line. Pretty sure there are a few in front of you. Besides, hearing you're a crazy serial killer wannabe seemed to be exactly what she needed."

"I'm not a serial killer. Everyone I killed needed killin'."

"OK. I'll give you that. Still helped so I ain't sorry. And I ain't takin' it back." He turned his attention to another one of the women. I turned mine back to Dorothy.

I glanced down to see her hand clutching my thigh even in her drugged state. She wasn't completely out of it, I didn't think, but she was in and out if the way her eyes opened and shut occasionally was any indication.

I settled her closer before checking my gun once more. I'd already done so, but not only had we just killed everyone in the rat trap where we found these women, but we were in Mexican territory. We'd taken women the Cartel saw as their property. If it was discovered before we were safely away, we'd be in a fight all the way back to Evansville.

"How are the others?"

Stitches shook his head. "One won't make it. One will be touch and go. Dorothy and the other two should be fine physically unless there's internal damage I can't see. One of them got hit in the head pretty hard, but she's responding appropriately. At least for now."

"They drugged too?"

"Yeah. Either they weren't dosed as hard, or they've been dosed so often they're becoming resistant. They're a little woozy but not as much as Dorothy. I doubt she's been here as long as the others. Not as banged up either."

The Humvee continued to speed over the rough terrain, the wind and rain pounding the vehicle mercilessly. I glanced down at the sleeping woman against me. She was battered, beaten, and filthy as hell. But I'd never seen a more striking female. I wasn't too proud to admit I loved the way she trusted me, even knowing I was a killer. Maybe Stitches was right. Maybe she felt safe because I was a killer.

The Humvee skidded to a halt with a jolt. "Fuck." I moved to the back of the enclosure and looked out the window. The rain was coming down too hard for me to see if we'd picked up a tail, but we weren't being shot at.

"We're here." Clutch threw the vehicle in park and got out, slamming the door behind him. I followed out the back, hurrying around the truck to cover Clutch. He headed toward a battered hangar where Deke was supposed to be waiting for us. He was on loan from Bones MC in Kentucky. While I didn't like depending on someone outside the Tzars for our extraction, Sting vouched for this guy, so I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. Supposedly, there wasn't any kind of aircraft the bastard couldn't fly.

I trotted to catch up with Clutch. The hangar wasn't much more than an oversized carport. The sides came down about halfway from the top to the ground, but it was rusted out in places and did little to protect the chopper Deke had brought for the extraction. The man stood just under the canopy next to the UH-1Y Venom helicopter we were supposed to exfiltrate with. Fucking big-ass bird to hide. The military aircraft was owned by ExFil, the paramilitary organization owned by a guy named Cain who used to be the president of Bones MC. Cain did work for the governments of several different countries, including the US, when the CIA didn't or couldn't get involved. I had to hand it to them. They had some grade A shit at their disposal. I might not like depending on anyone other than my club, but my estimation of Bones went up several notches.

"If we're gonna have to wait for a break in the weather, you might want to be ready for a fight." Clutch wiped his face with his arm as he stepped underneath the walls of the hangar. "We got most of them, but I can't be sure we got everyone. And if we missed even one, they'll send reinforcements."

"Get everyone on board," Deke said. "We'll leave in ten minutes."

"You sure the weather will cooperate? I'd prefer the danger I can control to sitting in a tin can that could be blown out of the sky like a fuckin' gnat by this storm."

Deke ignored him and climbed inside the bird without a backward glance.

"You heard the man," I said, turning back to the Humvee. I wanted to get everyone on board as quickly as possible, so we'd be good to go the second Deke was ready to leave.

I went to the back of the Humvee and opened the door. Two of the women flinched and shied away. Dorothy was still asleep where I'd left her. The other two didn't move.

"It's all right. We're getting you guys out of here." Stitches tried to soothe the women, but they didn't look like they were buying it. They glanced at each other before climbing out of the truck and heading toward the hangar when Brick urged them on. Then Brick picked up one of the unconscious women while Deacon got the other. Stitches started to pick up Dorothy, but I shoved my way past him.

"I got her." I didn't want the other man touching her any more than he had to. That was something I was going to have to work out later. Right now, I was going on adrenaline and instinct. And everything inside me was screaming that this girl was mine to save. Mine to protect.

I picked her up, moving us to the back of the vehicle and out the door. It was difficult given I couldn't stand all the way up, but at least there was room to move around.

Once out of the Humvee, I curled myself around Dorothy as best I could to protect her from the sting of the rain, but it didn't matter much. I was soaked. Seconds later she was soaked. She gasped and opened her eyes groggily but didn't say anything.

The Venom rolled out from the hangar. The only reason the big son of a bitch fit in the fucking toy hangar was because the blades folded back behind her. Looked like someone had made some modifications because Venoms didn't typically have landing gear. Bet that voided the warranty good and proper.

By the time we'd all climbed aboard, Deke was rolling through a preflight checklist and talking to someone on the radio. Brick passed out helmets for everyone. Not only were they there for protection, but it would allow us to communicate over the noise.

"Ready for takeoff when you give the word." I didn't think Deke was talking to any of us.

"Ten minutes." I assumed that was the intel guy at Bones. I couldn't remember his name, and didn't much care. "There'll be a small break in the storm. Not a lot, but the wind should be at a more manageable level."

"Roger, Data. Keeping an eye on it here too." Deke was flipping switches and checking a satellite radar of the area and beyond, likely looking at the same information. I ground my teeth and adjusted my hold on Dorothy. She was still passed out, having not opened her eyes since I'd first picked her up.

Something didn't feel right. There was an itch between my shoulder blades that always meant trouble. Granted, the idea of taking off in this weather was a daunting prospect, but I'd been in worse situations.

"Uh, guys?" That was Wylde, the Tzars' intel guy and all-around pain in the ass. But he was our pain in the ass and the man was fucking smart. I expected he'd be monitoring shit, but him interrupting in the middle of an operation meant my instincts had been right. Things were about to go sideways.

"What the fuck are you doing on this frequency?" Deke sounded distracted rather than upset despite his words.

"Backin' y'all up. Also, I hacked into a couple of… uh… things. Y'all got company on the way. So, you don't have ten minutes."

"Fuckin' hell." I slid Dorothy off me and put a restraint harness on her in case Deke had to take off before I could get back to her. All of us readied our weapons, looking around us for the first sign of trouble.

"Two vehicles coming from the south. One from the west. Unsure how many meanies are in each truck, but I'm betting they didn't come light. After that it gets bad."

Deke paused what he was doing for the briefest of moments before glancing back over his shoulder. "Did he just say ‘meanies'?"

Brick grunted. "Fuckin' Wylde." I knew how he felt. I wasn't a man to joke where Wylde rarely took anything seriously. "What do you mean it gets bad?"

"I mean, once the third vehicle gets to you, there are five more headed toward you. They're about five minutes behind the ones coming over the hill… now."

That was all we had time for because the first two vehicles did indeed burst over the small rise at that exact moment. Gunfire exploded as they got their bearings. Brick didn't have to give us the order to fire back. It was kill or be killed, and these girls had been through enough.

"How long before the third vehicle is in range?" Deke yelled over the radio, presumably to Wylde.

"Thirty seconds. Get a move on, boys. Time's a' wastin'."

"Fuck." I muttered the expletive as I returned fire. "Ain't sure we can buy ten minutes, Deke."

"Buy me three."

"You got your three," Brick growled. "Not a second more."

"Just keep them off us. I'll get us in the air."

"Will we be any safer in the air, though?" Clutch's muttered question mirrored my own, but I wasn't about to say so. I glanced over my shoulder where Dorothy was slumped in the seat with her harness holding her in place. I was glad she wasn't awake for this, but I was still worried. Why I was anxious over her I had no idea. Probably because she was the first person in my life to not turn their back on me when they found out I'd killed. Stitches made light of it now, but even some of the men in Iron Tzars gave me the side-eye when they found out who I was.

"Here they come!" The second Brick called out the warning, I saw the Jeep jump the hill leading to the hangar. Me and Deacon took the two already on the way while Brick and Clutch focused on the third one.

Bullets pelted all three vehicles. A few hit the helicopter. One of the women screamed, but I heard Stitches behind me trying to talk her down. The helicopter moved, rolling from the hangar.

"Gonna be a bumpy ride," Deke muttered over the comms. "Hang on."

The rotors slid into place from where they'd been folded. Then the engine started humming and whining as Deke prepared to take off.

Gunfire exploded all around us. I took out two men in the first Jeep while Deacon got the tires of the second one. The vehicle swerved, fishtailing before finally flipping and rolling several times before coming to a stop on its top. One man was thrown, landing against a boulder. Blood painted the rock like modern art. I didn't see what happened to anyone else, but the bullets stopped from that direction.

Deacon gave me a nod before we both shifted to the other side of the aircraft. When I turned, Brick was sliding the other door shut. "Did you get 'em all?" Deacon gave Brick an expectant look.

"No. I thought we'd invite 'em to come with us. Be a hell of a party," Brick snapped. The big vice president wasn't usually so snarky, but Deacon was on everyone's shit list. He knew it, too, and didn't rise to the bait. With a sigh, Deacon moved to the one woman Stitches hadn't strapped into her seat and helped strap her in. When he took his seat, he shook his head slightly before turning his attention to his gun, checking it over in case he needed it again.

I glanced at Brick who just scowled. He and Sting were furious with Deacon. It had something to do with Scarlet's sister, Apple. I was sure everyone knew what had happened, but I didn't pay attention to shit like that. If Sting decided Deacon needed killing, I'd do it. It was my job. To kill. Because I might be put in the position to kill anyone, including my own brothers, I kept to myself. I didn't get too close to people and never let anyone close to me. Sure, I was friendly on the surface, but that was as far as it went. If my brothers noticed, they didn't say anything.

"I just wanted to help if it was needed, Brick." Deacon looked like he was as defeated as he sounded. "I meant no disrespect." Brick gave him a withering look and grunted before turning his attention back to the window.

I raised an eyebrow but said nothing as Deke prepared for takeoff. The aircraft shuddered in the fierce wind. One of the women was weeping, obviously terrified.

"Todas vamos a morir."

"No one's dyin'," Clutch snapped more harshly than I thought strictly necessary. "No one!"

Stitches gave him an annoyed look. "Maybe you should absorb that thought your own damn self. No need to terrify the girl further."

Clutch shut his eyes and shook his head slightly. Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he looked ill.

"You OK, bro? You weren't hit, were you?" When I asked the question, Stitches glanced sharply at our road captain, no doubt looking the other man over quickly for injuries.

"No, I wasn't hit," he muttered. "Fuckin' tin can. You can't make a fuckin' tin can fly." Though he groused, I could see Clutch clearly had issues either with flying in general or helicopters in particular.

"Hey," Deke said over the radio. "No disrespecting the bird. She's good in a storm. She'll get us home."

Just as he spoke, the helicopter made a sharp bank to the right. "Ain't as worried about the bird as I am about the pilot takin' us into the fuckin' storm." Clutch was… not in a good way. I was pretty sure he was turning green.

Deke glanced behind him in Clutch's direction. "Don't you fuckin' puke in my ride, man. You mess it up, you clean it up."

"Fuckin' prick." Clutch muttered his response, bracing himself on the bulkhead. "I thought you said three minutes. Has it even been that yet?"

"Yep. Hang on."

"Watch out!" Deacon barked the warning just as more gunfire caught our side of the chopper. Three bullets hit the window, but the glass held. More dinged off the hull as the helicopter banked wildly with what I assumed was a combination of evading fire and the wind.

All of us not strapped in were tossed against each other. I had to catch myself on an overhead bar to keep from dropping my full weight on top of Dorothy. Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave me a vacant look. She obviously wasn't processing anything around her and that was probably a good thing. But it worried me.

"Stitches, I think Dorothy needs help." I managed to hold my weight off her but didn't want to move away from her yet. "Dorothy. Dorothy, honey." I gently smacked her cheek, just hard enough to get her attention.

She blinked up at me. "Morgue…"

"Yeah."

"That's good, Dorothy." Stitches shouldered me out of the way, taking a penlight and looking at her eyes. "You remember Morgue."

"He's killed looootta people." Her voice was slurred but she knew what she was talking about. Lucid, if impaired. "Hopin' he added those fuckin' bastards in that shithole to the tally."

"I think she's all right." Stitches looked in her ears as well as her mouth before looking at her eyes one more time.

The chopper banked sharply again. Dorothy gasped, her eyes snapping open, but she didn't cry out. Instead, her gaze darted around the interior as if looking for the threat.

"Easy, Dorothy. Easy." I put my hand on hers again, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "We're all right. Wind's just a little rough."

"Little?" Clutch snarled. "You call it a little rough? We're on the edge of a fuckin' hurricane!"

"Jesus, Clutch. You're embarrassin' me." Brick rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What the fuck, man?"

"I don't like helicopters, all right? Tin fuckin' cans with a fuckin' beanie on top."

Dorothy gave a little giggle even as her eyes drooped. "I like that description." She frowned. "Never been on a helicopter before."

"You have now, honey." Stitches patted her hand and smiled down at her. "If we're lucky, it'll be a relatively forgettable experience."

"Clearly we're not fuckin' lucky, Stitches."

"Never knew you were such a pussy, Clutch." I couldn't help the jab, especially since Dorothy seemed to be amused. If it took her mind off what had just happened to her, it would be worth Clutch's dignity.

"Ain't no fuckin' pussy." There was a beat of silence. "I like fuckin' pussy, though."

That got a chuckle from Brick and Stitches. Dorothy actually barked out a laugh before she groaned and clutched her side. Even though she was in obvious pain, she still chuckled.

Then, she started crying. Then sobbing.

"Stitches." I gave our doctor a hard look. "Make it stop."

"If you ever figure out how to make a woman stop crying when she has a good Goddamned reason, let me know, will ya?" He sounded put out as hell, like the whole thing irritated him, but he was too amused to commit to being surly. "I'm just glad she's with it enough to realize she's safe now."

"Ain't safe until we land. Safely," Clutch groused. "Fuckin' tin can."

"We're past the outer band," Deke told us. "Still be a bit rough, but smoother."

"How long until we get to Corpus Christi?" Brick demanded of Deacon. And it was a demand more than a question. One Deacon better know if the expression on Brick's face was any indication.

"About three and a half hours. Unless Deke has to land earlier to refuel."

"Should be good," Deke responded immediately. "I think we're runnin' lighter than we expected. The kid's right. Three and a half should be 'bout right."

The flight was considerably less turbulent. Hopefully, Deke would be able to keep us on the outer part of the storm. Because I really didn't want to listen to Clutch ralph all the way to fucking Texas.

When I looked back at Dorothy, she smiled even though tears were still flowing freely. "Texas?"

"Yeah, baby. Texas, then Florida."

"Am I dreaming?" Her smile faltered. "I always wanted to go to Florida. Wanted to move there after school. But I ended up in that horrible place and… Am I still there?"

"No, Dorothy." I tried my best to reassure her but wasn't sure how much I managed. The pain in her voice, the confusion on her face, was almost my undoing. Christ, I needed to get a rein on these feelings. Fast. "I promise you're out of there. And safe."

"You're supposed to be scary. Aren't you." She didn't phrase it like a question.

"Most people think so."

"Have you really killed a lot of people?"

"That frighten you?" I moved slowly to sit next to her, not wanting to startle her or make her feel like I was crowding her.

"To know that you've killed?" When I nodded, she looked thoughtful. Like she was really pondering the question. "It probably should, but it doesn't."

"Good. I don't want you to be scared of me. Just want everyone else to be."

Again, she smiled. "OK, then. I won't be scared of you."

Which, now that I thought about it, might not be a good thing for me. If she wasn't scared of me, I couldn't keep her at arm's length. And she was already seriously under my skin. For no good reason.

Whatever happened in the next few hours, I knew my life would forever be linked with Dorothy's. I wanted her to be mine. I knew this without a doubt. But letting her in meant making myself vulnerable. If you didn't love anyone, you had no one to lose. I'd long ago lost everyone I cared about. All I had were my brothers. I even kept them away as much as I could. Whatever I was feeling for Dorothy wasn't at all comfortable, and I knew I didn't want to become comfortable with it. I wanted to run as far and as fast away from her as I could, even when I knew I never would. This woman was meant to be mine. I just had to be brave enough to take her.