Page 59 of Bonita Brynne

“Shh, don’t say such things. I would never hurt your child, my love.”

“But you have, and I will never forgive you, Dorian!” she yelled. “Never!”

“I’m sorry, Christina. I just needed to be sure I would get Brynne. I fully intend on giving him back.” Dorian sounded nervous, like upsetting my mom genuinely bothered him.

I hated how he called her Christina. Apparently, my mom did too, which was why everyone else called her Tina.

“You make me sick, you child molester! You want my daughter,” she choked out her words. “My daughter.”

“She’s a grown woman,” Dorian hissed.

“You’re twice her age. You just want to hurt me, don’t you?”

“Maybe.”

My eyes and my mom’s bulged.

“If you hadn’t slept with Bruno, none of this would’ve happened. We would’ve been living a beautiful life together.” He sounded sad.

“Bruno raped me. I didn’t choose to sleep with him and you know that! And you want to do the same to my daughter, you vile, heinous man.” Tears streamed down her face, and her limbs shook.

“Enough of this fucking shit. Tell us where to meet you,” Raul told him and wrapped my mom in his arms.

Dorian cleared his throat several times, presumably to compose himself. “The exchange will be at four in the morning. I’m coming to you. There’s a boarded-up church across the street from Dairy Queen. Do you know it?”

“Yes,” Raul said.

“Don’t try anything funny. I’ll have weapons and your son.”

“What else?”

“After I have Brynne, don’t follow me, or I’ll kill her.” He cleared his throat again.

I didn’t believe he would kill me.

“I want you to tell your henchman to back off in Montana,” Storm said in a lethal tone. “I want my crew released from jail.”

“That situation is out of my hands now. They damaged police property. You should’ve taught them about consequences,” Dorian said smugly.

“You son of a bitch, I will destroy you!” Storm yelled.

“Careful, biker president. I have all the power.” He was an arrogant bastard. “See you tomorrow, my love. And remember, there should be no more than three of you at the church.” The call ended.

Storm seethed, “That motherfucker is dead.”

21

Raymond

It had been five days since I was taken. Nearly ten days since I saw my parents before they went to Montana to get my sister, Brynne. Would I ever get to meet her?

I stared at the ceiling and could tell it was evening by the shadows forming on it. The sun was fading, another day ending, and I still hadn’t been rescued.

The room was hot and stuffy. I couldn’t open the window to let fresh air in because it was boarded up, except for a few inches at the top.

My armpits stank. I was grimy and sweaty. Hungry and thirsty. All I could do was lie around and think. I recalled the good times I had when I was younger, and my dad would take me riding on his Harley. I remembered the holidays and parties at the clubhouse and all the food. My mom and Sugar were the best cooks, and Angel was the queen baker.

I licked my lips as my stomach growled.