WRECKED: CHOSEN FEW MC - BOOK TWO: OUTLAW BIKER/ALPHA ROMANCE Read online

  Melanie’s heart sank and she forced herself to think. Obviously Innes had planned things carefully. He was whacko, but not stupid. “But they will know, Mr. Innes. It’s standard protocol for Mr. Jarvis to call the school when we arrive and again when we leave to return.”

  “Jarvis?”

  “The bus driver.”

  Innes glanced to the front where Jarvis was focused on driving. His shirt was wet with sweat. “Bullshit,” Innes said finally. “There wouldn’t be any need for that and I think the principal has other things to do.” He smiled and turned toward Jarvis. “But that reminds me… Do you have a telephone, Jarvis?”

  The man clutched the wheel tight. “Yes.”

  “Where is it?”

  “In my jacket pocket.” He pointed at a compartment above his seat. “Up there.”

  Innes went over and pulled out the jacket, retrieving a cell phone, switching it off and putting it in his pocket. “At the next overpass, I’d like you to get onto I-5 headed north, Jarvis. Got that?”

  “Yes.” Melanie heard the terror in his voice. She couldn’t blame him. He hadn’t signed on for this.

  “Mr. Innes, you’re terrorizing the children,” she said, putting a snap of disapproval into her voice. “How is that a good thing or helpful? You want to send a message, but waving guns at children is no way to make anyone think you care about them.”

  He laughed. “They seem fine to me. They’re just having an adventure. It will be good for them to see how weak their teachers really are. They’ll see that the guns aren’t to threaten them—they’re only to stop adults who want to silence me,” he said calmly.

  Melanie listened to him and realized he walked an interesting line. On one hand, he was carrying out his self-appointed mission very intelligently and efficiently. When he gave directions and orders, his voice was firm and steady. She remembered Brian once mentioning that Innes had been in the military, in some kind of special force or another. That might account for that confidence. In taking his prisoners, he went back into that role.

  Still, when he drifted into talking about his message, explaining the reasons for his actions, the tremble of passion, frustration and anger crept into his voice. That voice was far more frightening.

  Innes came back to her and held out his hand. “Give me your phone, Miss Wilford.”When she hesitated, he smiled. “I know you have one with you. You are responsible for this class and you’d want to be able to call for help in an emergency.”

  She nodded. “Of course, but it’s in my purse. I left it on the front seat where I was intending to sit.”

  He nodded and scanned the other passengers, stopping when he saw Mr. Affir. “Who are you?”

  “Charles Affir,” he said weakly.

  “Right, the civics teacher. I know more about you than you’d like. You’re the dumb shit who thinks patriots don’t think for themselves—that they just do what they’re told.”

  “I just—”

  “I know what you just. I read the text books, Chuck. I know the vile toxic ideas you force the kids to memorize.”

  “It’s just civics, explaining how the government works.”

  “So you are a great patriot, Chuck. Are you a hero too?”

  Affir hung his head. “No.”

  The answer, the man’s response made Innes smile broadly. “Good. That’s very good. Now give me your phone, you toady little bastard. If you stay in your seat, and behave yourself, there is a chance you’ll come out of this in good shape.” Affir took his phone from his pocket and held it out. When Innes took it, his arm fell limply to his side. “You stink of cowardice and defeat, Chuck. It’s kind of a bonus for me that you so easily show the kids this side of you—the side that lets them see that you are just a bully.”

  “Leave him alone,” Melanie said. “You’re the bully and a coward, using children to get what you want.”

  Innes looked at her. “That’s a curious thing for a teacher to say. You use children as a way to earn your living every damn day. This is my first time at it.” Then he looked around the bus, letting his gaze check that Jarvis was doing as he was told before taking in the students. “Now kids, I need you all to follow the good example of your teachers and give me your phones. You’ll get them back. I just need to make sure we aren’t interrupted too soon.” He went over to stand next to Brian, then pulled a cloth bag from his back pocket and dropped it in his son’s lap. “Brian, collect phones from everyone.”

  Teary eyed, Brian stood up with the bag.

  “Start from the back. Make sure everyone puts a phone in the bag, and meet me in the front.”

  Brian held the bag open and went to each seat, getting sullen looks from his classmates as they reluctantly dropped their phones in the bag. Innes went back to the front of the bus and opened Melanie’s purse to fish out her phone and put it in his pocket.

  When Brian stood next to Carly, she just grinned. “Sorry,” she said.

  “What?” Brian looked astonished.

  “I don’t have one,” she said, speaking more to Innes than Brian.

  “I thought all the kids were supposed to have them,” Innes said.

  Looking Brian straight in the face, Carly answered calmly. “Well, I broke mine last week. My parents can’t afford to get me a new one. My dad said he thinks I’m better off without one and they might not get me a new one. It’s my own fault for being careless, he thinks.”

  Innes frowned. “What if there’s an emergency? The school says you’re supposed to have one.”

  “My dad’s a biker and my mom is his old lady. They don’t give a shit what the school says anymore than you do.”

  The kids broke out in nervous laughter.

  Melanie knew Carly had a phone. In fact she’d seen her making a call that morning. Unsure what the girl had in mind, she decided to help out and provide a distraction. She stepped into her teacher role. “Carly, you watch your language.”

  Innes looked puzzled. “So she’s got no phone?”

  Brian laughed. “You won’t let me have one. Why would I be the only one?”

  Innes shook his head. “True.” He thought for a moment.

  Carly held out her hands. “You want to search me, Mr. Innes?”

  “No. That’s okay. Brian, get back to work and get the rest.”

  Brian moved through the bus collecting phones, but when he got to Betsy, she just shook her head. “Ms. Wilford took it,” she said, making Melanie catch her breath. She saw Innes look at her, waiting to hear her explanation.

  “That’s because we don’t allow texting in class, do we Betsy?”

  “No Ma’am.”

  She improvised madly. “I caught her texting and confiscated her phone. She’ll get it back when we get back to the classroom.”

  Innes thought for a moment and finally nodded and Melanie struggled to keep from letting out an audible sigh of relief as Brian moved on. When he reached his dad, he held out the bag. “Don’t do this, Dad.” He sounded plaintive.

  “Too late, Brian. I’m committed now. But I feel good about this. I think everything is going to be just fine.”

  Brian swallowed. “No it isn’t.”

  The man put his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Go sit down. We’re about to get on the freeway.”

  When Innes turned his attention to Jarvis’s driving, Melanie slipped her hand into her pocket and brought out the phone. The connection was still made and she had to hope Greg was figuring out what was going on. She had no idea what he could do, but she knew that it was possible to track a phone. He might tell the police. Or something. But if Innes found the phone, he’d turn it off.

  With her hand trembling, she set the phone on the floor, then straightened up. Innes hadn’t noticed and she used the toe of her shoe to push the phone out of sight under the seat in front of her, poking it under a torn piece of rubber floor matting. It wasn’t a great hiding place, but better than having it on her if he decided to search her.

  She sensed someone
was looking at her and she turned her head to look out the window. It was Carly. The girl smiled. “Cool,” she said.

  From behind them she heard a whimper of anguish. Even without looking she knew who it was. Charles Affir. Innes was right about him, saying he was a coward. When a chance came, whatever that meant, she couldn’t rely on him to act. It was good to know now.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Greg was, as usual, up to his elbows in grease when he got the call. To get it done fast, he had been forced to make the repair in the parking lot of the clubhouse, which wasn’t ideal, and he didn’t even particularly like the guy who owned the bike. But you didn’t pick and choose clients. Even the bike was a pain in the ass. It wasn’t well engineered, which made everything harder than necessary. Having to do unnecessary work made him grumpy. So he wasn’t in the best of moods.

  He glanced at the phone. It wasn’t a number he recognized. He thought for a moment about letting it go to voicemail but having something to distract him for a moment appealed to him and he answered.

  “Greg, please just listen.” It was Melanie’s voice.

  “What?”

  She didn’t answer and he heard nothing but muffled sounds, mostly children’s voices sounding agitated and a gruff man’s’ voice.

  Greg turned and headed back into the clubhouse with the phone glued to his ear. He saw Luc coming out and covered the mouthpiece. “Luc, can you find out someone’s location from their cellphone?”

  “If it’s on, sure.”

  “Melanie just called me and something is wrong. I think she’s in trouble.”

  “Give me the number.”

  Greg reeled off the number and as Luc dashed inside with his laptop, he heard Melanie’s muffled voice. “Mr. Innes, what on earth do you think you can accomplish by kidnapping this busload of innocent children who are on a field trip?”

  He could hear the voice of a man, presumably Malcolm Innes, shouting at the kids to be quiet. There was a rustle, the sound of the phone scraping on something or something crackling next to it. Greg followed Luc in and saw Luc at his computer, his fingers dancing over the keys. “Yes, yes…” he muttered as he did his magic.

  “Luc, she mentioned a kidnapping. She’s on a school bus filled with kids. Luc put his fingers to his lips, hushing him, and held out his hand for the phone. He pulled some kind of plug from his pocket and inserted it into a jack on the phone. “There, that will keep our voices from tipping anyone off that the phone is connected.”

  Greg admonished himself for not thinking of that. Luc turned his attention back to the keyboard and Greg forced himself to let the man do his work and not bother him with stupid questions. He knew what it was like to work on a man’s bike while he looked over your shoulder—it broke your concentration and didn’t help a damn thing. Still, he had to fight to keep from pestering the man.

  It wasn’t turning into a good day.

  * * *

  Greg looked around the clubhouse trying to sort out what he should do first. Resisting the urge to hop on his bike and start searching was hard, but where did you start? LA was a big place with lots of side roads.

  It was early afternoon and just a few bikers were hanging out there. He knew most of them. Bikers and their old ladies, or women who were biker groupies or looking to become an old lady for a biker, were the only patrons of the bar. All the bikers were members of The Chosen Few. For better or worse they were his friends and he needed help. He went to the bar and crawled up on it, then stood up. “Okay you dumb motherfuckers, I’m making a call for help.”

  Cutter came wandering over from a corner with a beer in his hand. “Sure, Wrench, I’ll buy you a beer.”

  “I think some lowlife just kidnapped a bus load of sixth graders.”

  A murmur of shock went through his audience. “I got a call from Carly’s teacher, and it sounds like one of the parents has nabbed them somehow.”

  “Is Carly with them?” Cutter asked.

  “I don’t know. I’d imagine so. We have to assume she is.”

  “What can we do?”

  Cutter looked furious. “Let’s head out and track it down. How hard can it be to find a fucking school bus?” He turned to three bikers. “As I recall there are three ways you can get from that school to anywhere.”

  Three men, two of them brothers, stepped forward. One grabbed Dirk’s arm. “We got it, Cutter. I’ll call my brother. He lives on the other side of the school. He’ll follow the main road right to it and we can come in from the other roads.”

  Cutter nodded as Greg hopped down from the bar. Cutter watched the three men head out the door. “That can’t hurt. But if you see the bus, anybody sees the bus, call my phone. Don’t have all the fun of playing hero by yourselves.” He turned to Greg. “Let me coordinate this crew and the search, Wrench. I think you need a free hand.”

  Greg slapped him on the back. “Thanks. You’ll organize this motley band better anyway.” He called out to the men, “This loser owns a shitload of guns and might be heavily armed. I don’t care if you fuckers bite the dust, but there are kids in the line of fire.”

  “What else have we got going for us?” Cutter asked.

  “Melanie called me. She can’t talk but she’s left it connected. Luc is trying to get her location.”

  “Should we call the police?” Tiny asked. “The clock is running here.”

  “It never seems to work out well when we call the cops,” Cutter said. “Besides, if we get them involved instead of getting in and rescuing the kids, they’ll have their hostage negotiators come in and make this some big deal, or have Homeland Security decide it’s domestic terrorism and jump in. It’ll play big on television but I don’t see that as a good thing.”

  Tiny laughed. “We probably have a hell of a lot more experience in dealing with psychos than they do anyway. At least I know how to negotiate with this kind of creep effectively.” He smacked his fist into his palm and grinned wickedly.

  Greg put a hand on his friend’s arm. “I’d actually prefer he get taken in. He’s psycho, but he’s the father of Carly’s best friend.”

  “Shit. That makes it harder. But as long as I can do it without risking the kids or your girlfriend, I won’t hurt him.”

  Greg rubbed his face. “I think you guys are right about the cops, but I’m torn—they do have good resources and can put up roadblocks and things like that. But Cutter’s right that we shouldn’t draw attention to ourselves.”

  “Use an intermediary,” Luc said.

  Greg nodded. “I’ll call the principal and get her to do it. She should know what’s going on anyway. Let everyone know it will be complicated. If you see the bus and the cops are around, don’t be so close that they get it in their heads that this is something we cooked up.”

  He turned back to the bar. “Need a beer?” Tawnya asked him. She was the daytime bartender and he liked her.

  “Actually, I need to borrow a phone.”

  She reached under the bar and took out a cell phone and slid it over to him. “No looking at my photos.”

  “I just need to make a call.”

  Naturally, Donna didn’t believe him at first and he didn’t blame her.

  “I wouldn’t try to scare you this way. We are looking for them already, but I thought you should call the cops.”

  “We?”

  “The Chosen Few, my club.”

  “Oh,” she said, not sounding reassured. She did seem to understand the situation. “What do I tell them when they ask how I know they are missing?”

  “Call the plant they were going to on some excuse. Then you can tell them they haven’t arrived.”

  “And I can call Melanie’s phone. If she is on another phone then no one will answer and I can call the bus driver,” she said.

  “If you get no answer…”

  The woman began pulling herself together. “Then that would mean something is terribly wrong.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Mr. Jones… you
hear anything at all, I expect a call from you immediately.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  As he hung up, Tawnya grinned. “I think you need that phone more’n I do, Wrench. Hang onto it until the shit is over. Just remember, no peeking at the pictures.”

  “I think she wants you to look at the pictures, Greg,” Cutter said. “Bet there are some nudies.”

  Just then, Luc called to him. “Hey Greg, I think I’ve got them.”

  Cutter beat him to Luc’s table, but only by a hair.

  * * *

  “They’re heading out into the desert.”

  “Son of a bitch. Damn Mojave swallows up shit,” Cutter said.

  “It’s a bus, Cutter,” Tiny said.

  “The Marine base out there has lost fucking airplanes in the desert, Tiny. A bus ain’t nothing.”

  Luc pointed at an online map. “Looks like he went straight up I-5 and turned onto the highway headed for Victorville.”

  “Out that way, there’s not much but the Mojave desert and the Marine training grounds, unless he’s headed for Arizona,” Cutter said. He pointed at two bikers. “You two ready to roll?” They nodded and headed for the door. Cutter turned to Greg. “We will play chase. We’ll rip the shit out of I-5 north along the route he took. If he keeps rolling, we should catch up with him by Ludlow. You and Tiny take the back way—head out through Ontario and pick up 29. Drop the hammer and you should get to Yucca Valley before he does. That will box him in.”

  Luc turned toward Greg who smiled. “I’ll be sitting right here, drinking beer and tracking.” He handed Greg and Cutter each a piece of paper. “Two numbers for my two phones. Call when you see anything and I’ll keep you updated. As long as her phone is working he can’t get away completely.”

  Greg felt a knot in his stomach. “Right. We don’t have a big window here, guys. The phone battery could die, or Innes might find it and smash it. We better move fast. Let’s roll.”

  Greg knew the truth was that any number of things could cut off this feeble lifeline to Melanie and the kids. Even if the phone battery lasted and the phone stayed hidden, reception could be spotty out there and the connection lost.