The Bikers Rebel (Warriors Series {3})

Chapter Twenty-Two

As he pulled up to the rundown shack, everything from that night came flooding back into his brain. He'd done his best to suppress the memory, but he still caught images every now and then. Here, he remembered every detail.

Everything was the same as that night. They obviously hadn't been back. Dry, faded blood covered rocks and the porch. He was sure if he went inside it would be the same. He wondered if they even took care of the bodies or if they left them for the animals to feed on.

As he walked to the door, he could see everything happening, like he was right there again. He could see himself running out of the shack, carrying Rebel as they both bled, bullets flying around them.

He stepped through the doorway, looking at the door he ran into and knocked down to get inside. The makeshift table was still knocked over, poker cards and chips littered the floor along with glass and slivers of wood. Blood stains could be seen where it had splattered the walls and pooled on the floor.

He walked down the stairs to the basement, pulling out a small flash light and turning it on. The chair where Rebel had been tied was knocked over, ropes still around the arms. Two small pools of blood were on each side of the chair, stains where drops had fallen surrounded it. In one corner was the dress Rebel had worn that night. It was one of the few sundresses she had. From what he heard she got rid of the others and never wore another sundress.

When he had gotten there, Rebel had already been untied and had been laying on the ground, coughing up blood. She had been black and blue all over and he couldn't touch her anywhere without her crying out in pain. Her hair had been caked to her head from her blood.

Not why I'm here, he thought, shaking the images from his mind.

Ram moved into the room attached to the basement, an office, and started looking through the desk and filing cabinets. Everything was empty except for one of the bottom cabinets. Inside, he found a folded map and a couple of scraps of paper.

The map was circled over what he aimed was a house near the boarder of Mexico. The papers were travel plans. Rampage couldn't fucking believe it. They had their whole plan from years ago mapped out and just laying around for him to find.

He picked up the papers when one caught his eye. When he read it, he couldn't fucking believe it. He stuffed all of them into his pocket and stormed out of the building and onto his bike. He rode the six hours back to the clubhouse, scenarios of how he was going to kill this fucker flashing through his head.

The prospect opened the gate as he pulled up. He went straight to Banks, pulling out the official document he found in the shack, and slammed it down in front of his President.

"Did you know she was fucking married?" He snapped. He honestly didn't mean to yell at his Prez, but his rage was at its boiling point.

"Last I checked, she still had my last name," Banks said as he stood. "What's this about?"

Rampage pointed to the marriage license. Banks picked it up and read it over, his eyes narrowing.

"Where'd you find this?" He asked, his voice quiet.

"In the shack."

Banks nodded. "Hacker, I need you to find out if this is legit. If it is, then we need to take care of it, immediately."

Hacker nodded and took the paper. Banks poured two shots and slid one over to Ram.

"I think I know where they are too," Rampage pulled out the map and the other papers. "They're plans from years ago, but it's worth a shot."

Banks nodded as he flipped through the papers. "We'll call Slade. He's got a private jet we can use."

Hacker walked over to them holding a sheet of paper. "It's an official document. But, it was never documented, it's not on record anywhere. My guess is that some lackey was supposed to take it and he died. However, I don't think this--" he looked at the document "--Marco Ramirez-Rodriguez person knows that it wasn't documented. Chances are that he thinks they're officially married though."

Banks had frozen up when he heard the name. Rampage moved to place his hand on his president's shoulder, but Banks moved. Pulling out his phone and talking fiercely to someone on the other end.

He came back. "We need to get her. Yesterday. She's not gonna be alive long."

"What do you mean?" Hacker asked. "Wouldn't he want her alive?"

"He would," Banks nodded. "But he also killed his last seven wives."

******

He sat on the plane, taking his guns apart and putting them back together. The whole club sat with him, except for the five they left to watch after the clubhouse. He didn't know what to expect, yet he had a pretty damn good idea.

He didn't like the idea of seeing Rebel in the state she's in but he didn't like the idea of not seeing her at all. He was going to get her back, no matter the cost. As long as he saw her one last time and knew she was safe, he was ok with dying.

The plane ride didn't seem to take long, then again his head wasn't exactly there during the ride. They got as close to the house as possible without creating suspicion and took vans to the gate. Hatchett cut through the bars, making a big enough hole for them to get through.

"She's probably being kept in his room if he thinks they're married." Snake said.

"Where the fuck is that?" Digger whispered back.

"Same place, always," Hacker pointed. "Third floor, toward the back with the balcony overlooking the pool and garden."

Rampage rolled his eyes. They kept moving silently, pausing when a search light got close. Every now and then someone would walk close to them, Ram would either snap their necks or slice them open.

Banks led the group toward the side, where they would split up. One team going in the front and the other going in the back. They were to get in, kill as many as possible, find Rebel, and get the fuck out. Rampage wasn't leaving until this Marco fucker was lying in a pool of his own blood.

They made it to the side of the building when an alarm sounded and lights started flashing. Men were yelling orders in Spanish and dogs were let lose.

"Someone found the bodies and signaled the alarm. Let's do this fast!" Banks yelled, running toward the front entrance.

They took off, shooting at the guards who charged toward them. The yard was crawling with guards now and he knew there would be more in the mansion of a house. He snapped one man's neck and walked through the front door. He took a quick glance around, seeing his brothers fighting with and shooting at the men of the cartel crime lord.

"Rebel!" He shouted, running toward the winding staircase.