Page 17 of Reacher's Ride or Die

“No, I don’t. If I find that I need help, I’ll call Yonkers or Wren. They will come over here with me, but you need rest, and I won’t take no for an answer,” Gloria said.

“You know, you don’t act very sick,” Brandi teased. “You’re a badass and I won’t even try to tell you no. Thank you, Gloria. Please, promise me that if Wren or Yonkers can’t come over, you’ll call me, and I’ll come back.” Gloria looked her over and Brandi wondered if she’d tell her no, but when she nodded her agreement, she let out a breath that she didn’t know she had been holding.

“Tell Reacher that I say hi,” Gloria said, “and that we missed him today for lunch.” Reacher had been coming over every day to have lunch with both her and Gloria. When he didn’t show up today, she knew that something was up, but she tried not to worry. When he missed calling in, she started worrying and her nerves were shot.

“Thanks again, Gloria,” she said, grabbing her purse and bag along with her jacket.

“No problem, honey. Get some sleep,” Gloria ordered. Brandi smiled back at her but must have failed in trying to ease Gloria’s worry. She watched Brandi through the front storm door, and she turned back to wave, but Gloria’s worry was etched on her face, and for that, Brandi felt as though she had failed her patient and friend.

Brandi walked into an empty home. A part of her was hoping that she’d walk in to find Reacher in the kitchen cooking dinner, or even watching television in the family room, but she didn’t. She quickly pulled her phone from her purse and saw that no one had tried to call or text her. She had an eerie feeling thatthings had gone horribly wrong, but she needed to hear that news from Hurricane. Until then, she’d pray that Reacher was okay because she couldn’t face the alternative.

The front doorbell rang and she worried that the news was bad enough to warrant a face-to-face rather than a call or text. Her palms suddenly felt sweating, and she wiped them down her pants. “Get yourself together,” she said to herself.

Brandi walked to the front door and pulled it open, not bothering to look through the peephole. As soon as she saw the two bikers covered in tattoos she couldn’t help her tears. She thought about shutting the door and pretending that they weren’t there—but they were.

“Are you here to tell me that something has happened to Reacher?” Brandi asked, swiping at her warm tears as they fell down her face.

The two men looked at each other and then, nodded. “Yes, but he’s alive,” the shorter of the two said.

She hadn’t seen them around the club, but then again, there were probably a lot of members of the Royal Bastards that she didn’t know. “Where is he?” she sobbed.

“We’re supposed to take you to him,” the taller man said.

“Um, sure,” she said, “I’ll get my purse. Is he at the bar?”

“Yes, and we’re on a schedule, so we need to go.” She slipped on her shoes and grabbed her jacket, not caring that she hadn’t changed out of her scrubs yet. Getting to Reacher was all that truly mattered.

“I’m ready,” she said, picking up her purse and slinging it over her shoulder.

“Great, let’s head out,” the tall guy ordered. She turned back to tell Mr. Cuddles Worth that she’d be back soon, and he looked at her as though he wanted to call her a liar. The guys quickly ushered her out of the house and into their pickup truck, and she was beginning to feel that they were more hostile thannecessary. Wouldn’t guys from the club be nicer to one of their brother’s Ol’ladies? She remembered Reacher telling her about their bylaws when they were first together before he took her to the bar to meet everyone. He said that the guys weren’t allowed to disrespect another biker’s woman. So, why were these guys being rough with her?

“If Reacher’s alive, then why didn’t he just come home? Why is he having you bring me to him?” Brandi asked. They started out of the neighborhood and down the road to the highway. When she heard the truck doors lock, she panicked. Something wasn’t right, and now all the alarm bells were going off in her head.

“You guys aren’t Royal Bastards, are you?” she guessed.

They both laughed, but she found none of this funny. “No,” the short guy said. “We’re Vipers—maybe you’ve heard of us? After all, your boyfriend has been trying to find the warehouse we’re keeping our women in for weeks now. He’s really fucking up our Prez’s plan, so he wanted to pay Reacher back for the trouble.” Shit, she had fallen right in line, giving them exactly what they wanted without knowing it.

“What are you going to do with me?” Brandi almost whispered.

“We’re going to do what we do best,” the tall guy said.

“Which is?” she asked.

“We’re going to teach your boyfriend a lesson about sticking his nose in where it doesn’t belong. Our Prez is planning on auctioning you off to the highest bidder at our next event, and there won’t be anything that Reacher can do to stop us.” She wanted to tell them that they were wrong, but she wasn’t sure if she even bought that. Brandi hated that she was stupid enough to willingly get into their truck under the false promise that they would take her to Reacher. She was an idiot, but beating herself up about that now wasn’t going to help her situation. First, shewas going to have to put on her brave face, and then, she planned on giving the Vipers hell from here on out. They’d regret taking her and trying to sell her off—she’d make damn sure of that.

The Vipers had kept her in a cage that was so short that she had to crawl on the concrete floor to get around. Brandi had scraped knees to prove it. There was barely enough room to lay down to sleep, not that she was doing much of that. They only let her out of her cage for one hour each day, and she wasn’t sure how much longer she could last under these conditions.

They had taken turns beating her—never hitting her face, only her body. They wanted her face to look its best for the auction. As if that would do any good. She hadn’t had a shower the entire week that she was in the cage, and she was pretty sure that she was ripe. No one in their right mind would buy her, and that gave her some smug satisfaction.

“Tonight’s the night, honey,” a biker taunted. “You’re going to get all spiffed up so that you’ll fetch top dollar.”

“I won’t,” she spat, “I won’t fix myself up. You’ll have to sell me like this, sorry, asshole.”

The guard laughed as though she had said something funny. “Suit yourself but if you refuse to shower and shampoo your hair, we’re supposed to bathe you ourselves—not that I’d mind that.” He looked her up and down, and she felt sick to her stomach. “And if you’re a good girl, we will give you dinner tonight.” She had been living on bread, water, and occasionally a banana or apple. They gave her those when they said that she was being a good girl, and up until now, she had behaved out of fear of what the Vipers would do to her. She wanted to tell him to go to hell, but the thought of him or any other biker bathingher wasn’t one she could allow. She’d follow their rules for a bit longer, but there was no way that she’d let any man besides Reacher touch her. She’d figure out a way to kill herself before she let that happen.

“I’ll be back in an hour, honey, and we can get you all cleaned up.” She watched as the biker walked away, and Brandi sat back on the floor. She hated that she had no control. It was one of her biggest fears—giving up control of her life to someone else. That was what happened with Jarrod, and when she left him, she vowed that she’d never let it happen again. She lost herself for so long by staying married to him, and she wouldn’t let the woman she had become go again. Her only hope was for a kind man to purchase her, and then, maybe she’d be able to reason with him. If not—she’d find a way to end things for him or herself.

Reacher

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