Savior

Rand

I stepped up to the battered Bug and waited as the woman cranked the window down. She looked up at me hopefully.

"I'm Doug Meyer. You wanted to talk to me?" I asked as the window lowered.

The woman inside opened the door and stepped out. "Mr. Meyer, thank you for seeing me."

I had to work hard to not gawk at the angel before me. The woman was of average height, perhaps five-five or five-six, but that was the only thing average about her. Her light brown hair was worn in an easy-care style that framed her face and just managed to hide her ears, the short cut showing off the graceful curve of her neck. She had a fresh scrape on her cheekbone, along with matching ones on her elbow, and right knee and thigh, as if she'd take a hard fall, but the scratches in no way diminished her beauty. She had a pixie nose, huge brown eyes that sparkled in the late afternoon sun, more curves than the Green Hell, and when she smiled, she dimpled. No matter what the woman might want, Doug was going to be sorry he missed this, but it answered one question. She definitely didn't know Doug.

"What can I do for you?" I asked, preventing my smile from spreading too broadly.

"I have information you need to know."

"What information is that?"

"First I need something from you."

Here is comes...

"Oh? What's that?"

"My son was kidnapped a few days ago. I think he's here."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Ms...?"

"Ellerbe. Hanna Ellerbe," she said sticking out her hand.

I took her hand. "I'm sorry to hear that, Hanna, but what does that have to do with me?"

"Everything. If I give you this information, information you want and need, will you help me get my son back if he's here?"

I held her gaze for a moment. "What do you expect us to do?"

"Just help me find him. If I have proof he's here, then I can go to the police. That's all I want. Just help me find him."

"And if he's not here?"

Her face crumpled slightly. "Then what have you got to lose?" she asked softly. "You will have gotten the information and it cost you nothing."

I rubbed my hand over the back of my neck as I thought.

This is above my pay grade.

"Okay, I'm going to come clean with you. I'm not Doug."

Her face hardened. "You lied to me? Why? Who are you? Do you know Doug?"

"I'm Rand, Rand Tauper. I know Doug, but we don't know you. Why are you pretending to know Doug?"

"Because I'm desperate! Please, are you part of the motorcycle club here in Bayport?"

"I don't know of any club."

"Please, I'm begging you. Can you please get a message to Doug? The club really, really needs to know this."

"And if the club agrees to help you find your son, you'll tell them the news?"

"Yes! Everything I know! I promise!"

"And the news is related to the kidnapping of your son?"

"In a way. Once I explain it all, they'll see."

I rubbed my neck again. The woman seemed earnest, and yes, even slightly desperate, and I couldn't detect even a hint of a lie or a scam. I made a decision. "Follow me."

I led Hanna into Doonz, then to a back room that was normally closed off unless CJ needed the extra tables. It was the BRMC's room so long as Doonz wasn't using it.

"Doug, this is Hanna. She said she has information she thinks we need to hear and, in exchange, she wants help finding her son. Somehow they're related."

Doug looked at me a moment before motioning her to a chair. "Won't you have a seat? Want something to drink?"

"Just a pop, please, Sprite if they have it," she said as she sat down.

I watched as she glanced around the room, taking in the members. There were only a dozen of us here, a small unofficial gathering that had gotten together to remember Stu and to console each other over our loss. It had been a couple of days since I'd torn his bike down, we'd learned the truth about his crash, and the club was still smarting from our loss. If we ever found the person responsible, they were going to have a really bad day, but the seething anger we'd felt was beginning to fade.

I was closest to the sliding wall, so I stepped out of the room for her drink. I returned a moment later and placed the glass on the table in front of her. "Here you go."

"Thank you."

"Maybe you should start at the beginning," Doug suggested.

"If I tell you what I know, you'll help me?"

"I can't answer that until I hear the news."

She paused and her gaze flicked to each of us in turn, looking for help. She found none. "About three days ago, my son, Garrett, was kidnapped," she began.

As we listened, she laid it all out, starting with her having her husband arrested for beating the shit out of her, and going right up to me stepping up to her car.

"How sure are you about this information?" Doug asked. If the Orcas was moving in on our turf, we were going to have problems.

"Not very," she admitted. "I don't think Leeda would lie to me, but she could be wrong. I hope not, because if she is, I have no idea where Garrett is. What's here the Orcas would want?"

Doug glanced around the room. "Nothing."

"But you men are in a club, right?"

Doug nodded. "Yes. The Bayport Riders."

She held his gaze. "You don't have to tell me, but there's something, isn't there? Something the Orcas want."

Doug glanced at us. It was clear she wasn't stupid. "I don't know what it might be."

She glanced around, and I could tell she wasn't buy Doug's lie. "Will you help me? I've told you everything I know."

Doug thought about it a moment. "I can't promise anything. We'll help with your son if we can, but I'm not sending someone to jail for a kidnapping charge."

"I've asked for sole custody, and there's a restraining order against Carl. All I have to do is find him. If Garrett is with him, I can tell the police where they are. I just need help finding him. Please! I've told you everything!"

"We're going to need some kind of break. Bayport isn't Eugene, but we can't scour every place in town looking for Orcas," Chuck said. "How would we know unless we see the patch?"

Doug rapped a ditty the table with his fingers. "We're not going to solve this tonight," he said before he turned to Hanna. "Give us a day or so to get our act together. Do you have a place to stay?"

"No."

"We'll put you up tonight. I think the best thing is to go slow with this. Maybe tomorrow we'll pair you up with someone and you can take a look around town? Maybe you'll see a bike or someone you recognize."

She nodded, clearly relieved that we weren't going to give her the brush off. "I can try, but I wasn't that involved in the club."

Doug frowned. "Well, we have to start somewhere. Rand, can you take care of putting her up tonight and showing her around tomorrow?"

I couldn't hide my grin. Every man in the room, save me, was either married or in a committed relationship, and with the way Hanna looked, I wasn't surprised the task fell to me. "Yeah, I'll take care of it."

-oOo-

"How's this?" I asked, tossing her suitcase onto the bed.

The Motorhead Inn was an inexpensive place that catered to the constant flow of bikers that came to the area to enjoy exploring our roads. The small room was decorated with pictures of various motorcycles, both on display and in action shots. A biker motel might not have been Hanna's first choice, but I knew the owners, and I knew the rooms were clean and well maintained.

"It's fine," she said, stepping into the room behind me. "Thank you so much for doing this."

"It's the least we can do since you've given us the heads up."

"You help me get Garrett back and we'll call it even."

"We'll do what we can. As Doug said though, nobody's going to be willing to go to jail for kidnapping."

"I understand, but if you, the Bayport Riders I mean, can just help me find him, I'll take it from there." She paused for a moment as she licked her lips. "Is there someplace around here to eat? I haven't eaten since breakfast and I'm starving. Not too expensive though."

"I know a couple of places. Want to join me for dinner?"

"I don't want to be a bother."

"No bother. I have to eat too, and I'd enjoy the company."

She smiled at me and I felt a twitch in my cock. "I'd love to then, if you're sure."

I returned her smile. "I'm sure."

I led her outside, glancing at her car as I pause between her Beetle and my Harley. "You comfortable on a bike?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Want to ride with me?"

She glanced at her car, back at me, and then offered me one of her smiles. "Sure."

I handed her my helmet. She plopped it on her head and fastened the strap with sure, nimble fingers, before climbing on his bike behind me. I smiled as I thumbed the starter and the bike rumbled to life. She hadn't been lying. There'd been no hesitation as she mounted up. As I pulled away, she tucked into my back, her arms going around my stomach. There was nothing overly sexual about her embrace, but she felt warm against my back, and I liked it.

We motored through Bayport before I pulled into my standby. I didn't cook or eat at home, so if I wasn't eating with Patrick, and I wasn't in the mood for something in particular, Sotherland's was where I went.

"Rand!" the hostess cried as we walked in before she kissed me on the cheek. Kate Sotherland was a round woman of indeterminate age, but was probably pushing seventy. I got such a warm welcome each time I arrived I sometimes wondered if she'd adopted me without my knowledge. "We haven't seen you in a couple of weeks. I thought you were mad at us or something."

"You heard about Stu?" I asked.

Her smile disappeared in an instant. "Yeah. I'm really sorry. I know you two were close."

"Yeah. I've been trying to help Vicki. We all have."

"Let us know if we can do anything to help."

"Thanks, Kate. I will."

Kate led us to a table and placed two menus in front of us. "Sarah will be right out. Enjoy."

I watched until Kate until she was out of earshot. "Kate's family owns the place."

"You obviously come here often."

"Two or three times a week."

Hanna picked up the menu and seemed to relax slightly. "What's good?"

"Everything." When she looked over the top of her menu at me, I smiled at her. "No really. The meatloaf and chicken fried steak are really good. The salmon is decent. If you don't mind having to wash up afterwards, the fried chicken is great."

She nodded, then closed the menu. "Why don't you order for me, then. I like all that stuff."

"Hey, Rand," the pretty young waitress said as she arrived. "I'm sorry about Stu."

"Thanks, Sarah."

"The usual for you tonight?"

"Yeah. For Hanna, she'll have the fried chicken, white or dark?" I asked looking to her.

"White, please."

"All white. For her sides, she'll have mac and cheese, new potatoes and, let's see... she looks like a green bean person to me. What do you think?"

Sarah grinned. "Definitely."

Hanna shuddered dramatically. "No green beans. Yuck!"

"No green beans, huh? Lemon carrots?" She shook her head. "Hmmm, last guess. White beans with onion?"

"That works," she said.

"And a basket of rolls, please."

"What would you like to drink?" Sarah asked as she looked at Hanna.

"Do you have beer on tap?"

Sarah shook her head. "We don't serve alcohol."

"Oh. A pop, then. Do you have Sprite?"

"Yes."

"That'll be fine."

Sarah finished scribbling and picked up the menus. "I'll have the bread right out."

We sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before she spoke. "If you don't mind my asking, what happened to Stu?"

"I don't mind. Killed in a motorcycle crash a couple of weeks ago."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Yeah. Actually, you showing up may have cleared up a question. It looks like what caused the crash was somebody took a shot at him. He went off the road and hit a tree. I wonder if it's the Orcas?"

"Why would they do that?"

I shrugged. "Doesn't make sense to me either, but it's the closest thing to a reason I can think of." I paused as Sarah set our drinks and a basket of rolls on the table. "That's honey butter," I said as I hot fingered a roll onto my plate, taking the opportunity to change the subject. I was coming to grips with Stu's death, but that didn't mean I enjoyed talking about it.

She took one and carefully opened the steaming roll, buttered it, and took a bite. "That's really good."

"Told you. So tell me, how'd you end up in this mess? You told us how Carl had taken Garrett, but you didn't say how you ended up arrested, or why."

She looked at her plate. "Are you sure you want to hear that? It's a long story."

I shrugged. "You have somewhere else to be?"

She sighed. "I married Carl when I was nineteen. My parents tried to tell me, but I was young and stupid, thought I knew everything, and wouldn't listen. I knew he was in the Orcas, but I was into bad boys then, and he said he was next in line for the VP position in the Eugene chapter. He told me everything I wanted to hear... how much he loved me, how I wouldn't have to work and that he'd take care of me." She paused as she took a sip of her pop. "Turned out he's a lying sack of shit. He was a nobody, just another person in the club. All those great plans? Nothing. I don't mind working, but I got pretty damned tired of working while he was out goofing off with his pals in the club. Anyway, I got fed up, filed for divorce, and slapped a restraining order on him to boot because he was slapping me around."

I felt my face harden. I fucking hated guys that beat women.

"Anyway, a couple of weeks later, a cop showed up at my parents' house in Prineville and asked to see my drivers' license. I didn't have it, which surprised the hell out of me. The reason I didn't have it is because the night before my license was found outside a convenience store immediately after an armed robbery. The man was seen driving away with a woman with short brown hair." She flicked her hair. "They arrested me on the spot."

"I don't understand. You weren't the woman?" Her lips thinned as she shook her head. "So how did your license get there?"

Her lips thinned. "I guess Carl stole it, probably while I was hiding the bathroom with Garrett after I called the cops on his ass. I called my parents to come take care of Garrett. After I spent a night in jail, they bailed me out. A few days ago the charges were dropped because at the time of the robbery Garrett and I were having pizza at a birthday party."

I felt my eyes narrow. "And the cops couldn't figure that out before they arrested you?"

She snorted. "I don't think they even tried. I kept telling them I didn't do it, that I hadn't been in Eugene for weeks, but they didn't listen. At least they let me call Dad, and waited until he got home before they shoved me into the back of the police car. Dad was

pissed,

and I was afraid he was going to get arrested too. Anyway, everybody at the party with me, plus the waitress, showed up at the police station and gave a statement that said Garrett and I were at the party. The judge lectured the prosecutor about that when they dropped the charges."

"And you think Carl planted the license because...?"

She shrugged. "Because he's an asshole. I was asking for sole custody of Garrett, and my lawyer was pretty sure I was going to get it since he not only slapped me around, but also because he had no steady employment, was a member of the Orcas, and because he was just an all-around shitty father." She shrugged again. "That's what I think anyway. Before my arrest I was trying to put my life back together, but it's hard, and when you don't know if you're going to prison, it makes finding something even harder." She sighed. "At least they expunged my arrest, so I don't have to say 'yes' to 'Have you been arrested or convicted of felony' anymore."

"And you think he kidnapped your son?"

"Not him, but some of his buddies, yeah."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "Revenge. Carl is a vindictive, backstabbing, bastard."

"How would he know that the charges against you were dropped?"

She shrugged again. "It's the Orcas. For all I know, they have somebody in the police department on their payroll." She glanced down at her roll then back to me. "They seem to know everything that goes on. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire robbery thing was a scam."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, they either didn't actually take the money, or they took it and then returned it to the owner later as a way to defraud the insurance. That's the way Carl is. He wanted to fuck me over, and if he could get a piece of the pie defrauding an insurance company, even better."

"What an asshole."

She nodded slowly. The sadness of her smile touched me. She'd had a lot of shit dumped on her and it didn't seem right. A deadbeat husband, soon to be a single mother, arrested for a crime she didn't commit, and now this?

"If Carl is in town, we'll find him, and I'll help you get Garrett back."

"Thank you," she said as our food arrived. "This looks wonderful."

I cut off a bite-sized portion of my meatloaf and placed it on her plate. "Try that. Best meatloaf I've ever had. What kind of work do you do?"

She picked up the morsel, blew it cool, and popped it into her mouth. "Wow, that's really good. In Eugene I worked for Safeway. In Prineville, I was looking for whatever I could find. What do you do?"

"I work in a recycling yard."

"Where trash goes?" she asked as she daintily tore bits of the chicken from the bone before popping the meat into her mouth.

"No, where crashed cars go. We break the cars down and sell the pieces to body shops and the like. What's left that we can't sell, we crush and sell for the scrap metal."

"Been there long?"

"About twenty years."

She held my gaze as she blinked a couple of times. "Twenty?" she asked, her disbelief clear in her tone, and I smiled. I got the same reaction every time I said that. "How can that be? You can't be a day over thirty."

"Twenty-seven. My dad worked there, and I've been there in one way or another since I was seven or eight years old."

I could tell she wanted to ask, but didn't. "So what else do you do? You work in a scrapyard—"

"Recycling yard," I corrected with a grin.

"Excuse me. A recycling yard, and you ride with the Bayport Riders. What else do you do? Have a family?"

"Just Patrick."

"Your dad?"

"Not really, but sort of. Patrick O'Neill. He owns the scrapyard."

She put her fork down and smiled at me. "Okay, which is it? Recycling yard or scrapyard?"

I snickered that she'd picked up I'd used her term. "Recycling yard is the," I made tick marks in the air with my fingers, "politically correct term, but we call it a scrapyard because it's easier to say."

"What about your dad?"

I was quiet a moment. Just like with Stu, I'd healed, but that didn't mean I wanted to talk about it. "He's around but we don't see each other," I said softly.

We talked about other things after that, and I was thankful she didn't press. She told me a little about her time with the Orcas and stories about Garrett. I responded with a few stories about the BRMC and my time growing up in a scrapyard.

"This was really good," she said as she leaned back into the booth.

"This is my go-to place, if you couldn't tell."

"I can see why."

"Sarah, Hanna would like a slice of your apple pie, warmed, with a scoop of ice cream," I said as our waitress arrived to collect our plates.

"I can't! I'm stuffed!"

"Bring two spoons, then," I instructed when Sarah hesitated.

"You're going to have to eat most of it," she groaned.

"We'll see."

The pie arrived, steaming hot, with a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream on top. The pie was unlike any apple pie I'd ever seen. It was creamy smooth, and appeared to be made from apple sauce, not apples. I watched as she cut off the end, added a dollop of ice cream, and after blowing it cool, popped it into her mouth. I grinned as her face lit up.