Page 43 of Cougar

Looking into the windows, I realize everyone is too spread out. I need to wait until they are settled in one end of the house to get in and get what I need. I’ll stay in the shadows and wait. I am patient. I know I can outlast them and get the baby out of there.

A rumbling sound breaks my gaze from the house. I turn in time to see Judge and Cowboy rolling up on their bikes. Once parked, I plaster myself close to the side of the house, and they get off their bikes and head toward the porch.

Panic prickles my skin. If they are back, Bigfoot’s gone, and they know something.

“Fucking hell,” Cowboy starts. “Who would have thought that’d be such a hard grab?”

Judge shakes his head before grabbing the door, “Fucking bitch.”

“Fuck,” I mutter again. When the coast is clear, I quickly make my way to the passage I use to get in and out of the land. I stole a 4-Wheeler and hid it inside a dense brush. It’s the easiest way to get around without causing suspicion—many people on this property ride these things. Once I’m off the property, I get into my car.

There are two places I need to check. Unfortunately, I also have to make sure no one is tailing me before I head to where I know Bigfoot hides a few secrets. My first stop is the drop-off house. I make my way down the street it rests on. Not wanting to garner attention, I don’t speed, but I don’t slow down when I come up on the house. No cars are around the property, and no light is on. I keep my eyes peeled but have no reason to believe anyone is there.

The drop-off house is clear.

The only other location to check is the one that holds the biggest secret of them all. This one contains all the answers these guys have been looking for, especially Knuckles. He’s been going insane trying to figure this all out, but nothing has clicked. I’m determined to get there and ensure he still hasn’t figured it out. He hasn’t cracked the code yet, and many things have been obvious. I laugh as I think about how damn trusting he is.

I rush, but I’m too late. A familiar truck is driving away as I’m coming up the street. They found her.

“Fuck!” I scream. I wait until I can’t see the taillights before I slam on my breaks. I start pounding my steering wheel as I scream. “I knew I should have made him get rid of her. God dammit!” I turn the car around, and the tires squeal as I complete the U-turn. I step on the gas. I have to get her back, or everything goes to shit.

“Fuck you, Bigfoot. Your dumbass may have gone down, but you are not taking me with you.

Nineteen

Mallory

I slowly stumble my way out into the cool night air. It’s the first time a natural breeze has hit my skin in so long. I can’t help but cry at the cool calming sensation on my face. Allowing me to relish in this moment of what I can only assume is freedom, I stand here with the giant tatted biker beside me.

“Am I really free? Am I safe?” I croak out. I am sure with the limited talking I have done in the last while my voice is broken. I sound like I am a twelve-pack-a-day smoker.

“We’re going to make sure you stay safe from this point on, Mallory.” Storm, I can now see his name printed on the vest, promises me. I try and think back to the man who held me captive, but I can’t form the memory of his vest to recall if his name was on it or not. I did everything I could to get away. When he would leave me, it would be days before I saw him again. When he would come back, after the first handful of times I tried to unsuccessfully leave, I stopped trying. I became a blob. A husk. An empty shell. Just like he wanted. I shake my head, trying to get myself out of the darkness from before and into the freedom that’s now at my fingertips.

Storm’s eyes bounce from me to the surrounding area. It’s almost like he’s scanning every nook and cranny, looking for someone. “We should get going,” he tells me.

He quickly types something on his phone before sliding it back into his pocket. He tried to guide me to the truck by placing his hand lightly on the small of my back. I know he’s a good guy, I can feel it in my soul, but I can’t help my body’s reaction to the contact. The years of physical and psychological abuse has taken its toll on me. Add in where he found me, and I’m a whole fucked up package.

I shrink away from his hand, and my body starts to shake. I’m vibrating like I have been dunked in an ice bath. I quickly apologize and make my way to his truck. He tells me how sorry he is.

“When I saw you in there, terrified, it broke my heart. When you walked out, I wanted to hug you as I would if you were my daughter. I stopped myself from that because I knew the last thing you would want is to be touched. I’m sorry.”

I nod at his apology. His voice is sincere. I can see the pain in his eyes. He’s blaming himself for it. I know in my head, and my heart, it was innocent. “It’s okay. I appreciate you looking out for me. I have a feeling I’ll react like that for a while, no matter who touches me.”

“We’ll get you the help you need, Mallory. You’re not alone anymore.”

Getting in the truck, he takes me to freedom. We make our way through town in an awkward, yet comforting silence. He doesn’t press me for more information and I’m thankful. I’m not ready to talk about everything. When we hit the highway I look at him and study him. His eyes are trained on the road before him and his jaw is tight. I notice his fingers are white with how hard he’s gripping the steering wheel.

“He took me from the hospital.” I volunteer to him. It wasn’t my plan, but something takes over and word vomit comes out. “He never touched me. He never physically hurt me. But he did make my stay in the box—a very uncomfortable one.” I think back to being in the hospital. I was asleep in the hospital bed. I had surgery a few days before and I was finally feeling like I was going to break free of the hell I had been through.

Then I woke up after being jostled and lifted in the air. With the pain meds they had me on, I didn’t feel much pain at all. They also made me so tired and listless. I waved in and out of consciousness. I remember being put back down and then the slow rocking movement put me back to sleep. I don’t remember much over the next few days after that. Just the same hard floor, limited food, and me trying to re-teach myself to move with little to no pain.

“Did he ever tell you his name?” Storm asks softly, breaking me from the faded memory.

“No, but he wore a vest like you. He spoke gruffly on the phone. I never knew who it was with. But I heard more than I am sure he was aware of.” I roll the window down and rest my head on the door—letting the brisk air blow through my hair and on my face.

“Was it like mine? I guess I should ask, was it for my club, or another one?” I can hear the tension in his voice.

“It was for your club. He talked about drugs a lot. The only time I heard another person on the other line was when the drugs were taken from the station. The man on the other end was going crazy. I think he put the phone on speaker, or that’s how loud the other man was. He kept raging about how it was your club that did it. He then kept asking why the club guy didn’t warn him that a raid was coming. What doesn’t make sense to me, though, is when he said that she wasn’t going to get him anymore.” I clear my throat. Thinking about the dents in the walls, my larger-than-life captor left when they hung up. “But after that call ended, I don’t know.”

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