Page 121 of Tied to You
Lifting my head slightly, I immediately recognise the brand-new, jet-black bike. Dean. He’s here? But how? Slowly allowing my eyes to venture past him to the next rider, I see Mop, then Rocco. They’re here too. The guys from the club have come to help get us out of here safely.
I don’t entirely relax, but knowing Travis is no longer alone against the man chasing after us eases some of my tension. I don’t doubt his capabilities, but I’m aware with me being here, he’ll put me first before he makes any rash decisions. Ultimately, he won’t risk me the way he would himself.
As if in a flying V formation, Rocco leads us through the traffic whilst his men move behind us. I don’t see what happens or what they do to the Saviour, but we don’t let up until Rocco directs us away from all the traffic, taking an exit and turning down a side road.
We pull to a hasty stop, but none of the engines are cut. I’m caught up in a vortex, trying to keep up with what’s happening around me. “Take her,” Travis shouts, looking to Rocco, and I’m hit with an immediate pelt of rejection.
“What?” My muffled voice is ignored as he shouts at me.
“Now, Mollie. Go!” He twists the throttle, revving the engine, signifyingthe urgency.
I have no time to argue as I swing my leg off the bike, standing back with a fright when Travis speeds off, the rear tyre kicking up dirt and a small cloud of smoke.
“Let’s go!”
I turn my gaze from a fleeing Travis to Rocco.
He quickly nods his chin, signalling me to go to him. Moving as fast as my heavy, vibrating legs will carry me, I count two bikes as I climb on the back. Rocco and Mop are here, leaving two more Rippers out there. That’s who Travis must be heading back to. They’re going after the rider.
Everything is heightened again. All the fear, all the worry, it all comes flooding back like a dam bursting at the crack as I grip the edge of Rocco’s cut. Then I begin to cry to myself, letting it all seep out without a request for forgiveness. I haven’t cried like this for God knows how long. Crying has always made me feel weak. And that isn’t something I enjoy.
My emotions take a beating. All the things that could have happened play on a loop inside my head. And Travis. Where did he go? What will he do if they end up catching the person who came after us? I shudder, desperately trying to stow it all away, my body completely and utterly exhausted.
By the time we’re pulling up at the farm, the adrenaline has worn off. My body’s now running on empty. The ride didn’t take long, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t surprised when Rocco headed towards the farm, rather than the clubhouse. I can’t see the outcome clearly, but my guess is he’ll be heading to the others in case something’s gone wrong. It’s one less thing to worry about if I’m not there.
He stops along the path as opposed to the yard where Mick’s truck is still parked. Knocking off the engine, he waits for me to catch up and climb off before he looks at me.
I take off my helmet, swiftly wiping under both eyes. I don’t wear makeup to work, so there’s no chance of black lines, but I can feel how damp they still are.
His eyes run tracks over my face, no doubt catching the puffiness of my eyes and redness I can feel in my cheeks. It takes him a while to start speaking, both of us stuck, unsure of what to say or who should speak first. “He knows what he’s doing,” he tells me, his voice so stern and confident.
My lip wobbles looking at him. I hear his harsh words, but I also detectthe softness outlining his eyes, his concern for me evident. I’d ask him how he can be so sure if I could, but the trembles begin in my hands and my legs, momentarily distracting me.
“One of us will check in with you. I give you my word.”
He wanted to make me feel better. Hisone of us, however, manages to make me feel a thousand times worse.
What if the worst happens? What if there were more Saviours waiting? What if there’s an ambush and Travis and Dean and whoever else came to us, end up getting hurt?
The engine revs and Rocco pulls away quickly. I can’t describe the onslaught of emotions that tumble down over me. It’s everything, all mashed into one giant mass, suffocating me as though two strong hands are now wrapped around my throat. I’m powerless.
Choking on air, I slowly turn on shaky legs and make my way to our house, the safe haven which he built for us. I chuck my keys in the dish then pull out my phone, sending Mick a message letting him know I’m sick. It’s not a total lie considering the antibiotics in my bag, but I can’t face work. Not now. I’m too bogged down by the weight of all that’s happened recently.
Heading to the sofa, I slump into the cushions, tapping my phone to my top lip before standing right back up again. I repeat the process, anxiously deliberating on what the hell I should do. The answer is nothing. Telling myself to calm down, I spot my bag and take some of the medicine given to me. Hopefully it might make me feel a little better. I have a chill, but I can’t tell if it’s the stress or if I’m starting to get worse.
The hours start ticking by. I pace. I sit. I send messages. None of it helps. It’s like I’m barefoot in the bog and can’t get myself free. I manage to make a cup of tea but I end up spilling it all over me when my phone pings in my hand. Fumbling, I drop my mug on the side and scramble to unlock my phone.
Dean: We’re good
That’s it? What the fuck? Heat floods my face and neck as I hit call but it immediately cuts off. I try again, this time it rings to voicemail. Holding my phone in front of my face, my fingers tap on Travis’ name. It does the same. I curse them both as I lower my phone, my fingers typing my message outfast.
Me: What happened? Where’s Travis?
I bite my lip, nervously waiting for the dots to start bouncing. My heart skips a beat when they do.
Dean: Busy. Will call later
Me: I need more than that
