Free Hell's Riders: Wild (MC Romance) by Fiona Flask Page A

I’d already shot him twice, and missed him four times, I was hoping that he would think I was crazy enough to shoot him if I didn’t get what I wanted.
     
    “OK!" he cried.  "OK, just don’t shoot.  It’s down by the river, in the fishing part of town.  There’s an old abandoned warehouse that belongs to the club.  It doesn’t look like much, but the HQ is underground.” 
     
    I must have raised my eyebrow without realizing it, because he panicked. 
     
    “I know that it sounds like something from a movie, but it’s true!" he said.  "The headquarters is underground!  I can take you there and show you.” 
     
    I didn’t know if I could trust him as far as I could throw him.  I got him to give me the address of the warehouse, then I acted like I was going to turn away from him and let him go.  Instead, I hauled back and punched him in the side of the head, narrowly missing his temple.  He crumpled to the ground and I ran lightly down the stairs to the little shed that Derrick had in the back yard.  He kept a few lengths of rope in there, and that was what I was looking for.  I was going to tie him up and take him with me, but I wanted to make sure that no one could see that something wasn’t exactly right…
    I had to wrestle with the door a little because the hinges had rusted in the last storm we’d seen, but my nerves gave me the extra strength that I needed.  Almost immediately, I found the rope, and I yanked it off the hook, knocking the hook to the ground in my rush. I wanted to make sure that I got him trussed up like a Christmas goose before he got the chance to come to and run out of the house.  When I crested the top of the stairs, I pulled the gun out just to be safe.  It was a good deterrent if he was coming to.  I peeked into the room, and he was just where I’d left him, still drooling on the carpet. 
     
    The first threat was his hands, if I left them untied he could fight me and push himself up to his feet in order to run.  That wasn’t going to happen.  I made sure that it was tight.  I tried to lift him, but he was too heavy. 
     
    I wanted to rush to Derrick’s rescue, but I had to wait for him to come to.  I wasn’t exactly a very patient woman, never had been, and I damn sure wasn’t going to start now.  I sat on the bed, legs crossed, foot jiggling for about ten minutes before I went downstairs to the closet and got out the mop bucket.  I filled it up with ice cold water and carefully carried it up the stairs.  I was trying to be as quiet as possible, because if he had already come to, I didn't want him to startle me when I walked in, spilling the frigid water on myself.  I listened as hard as I could, trying to imagine pricking my ears forward like a dog to hear better.  Nothing but silence ensued.  Good.  That meant he was probably still out and I had a good chance of using this bucket that I’d lugged all the way up the stairs.  I didn’t like doing things for no reason…
     
    I peeked around the corner of the door, and saw he was still laying where I’d left him.  I tiptoed over as silently as I could, tipped the bucket over and leaped backwards to avoid getting wet when he sputtered to his feet.  He didn’t wake up quietly.  He yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to push himself up into a sitting position, but it was impossible with the way I’d tied his hands behind his back.  When he’d finally calmed down and looked around for me, I smiled at him and gave him a little wave.
     
    “Good morning," I said cheerfully.  "It seems that I might have hit you a little harder than I thought, and you've really been keeping me waiting.  Now that you’re awake, though, I’m going to need you to walk when I help you up.  Are we agreed?” 
     
    He wouldn’t say anything for a few long minutes, and I thought that I was going to have to pull the gun out again to get his cooperation, but he finally sighed and nodded.  He probably thought