Brage & Dinah Page 5

  He stepped out of her way. To argue with him after seeing a member of Moroad, of hugging a Moroad, frustrated him. For her to agree to go to the clubhouse once Roar's name was mentioned further angered him.

  Going to his motorcycle, he hardened himself for what was to come. He'd put many men through Slag interrogations. He had ways of making men talk. As long as he'd been V.P., they'd never had to use those tactics with a woman.

  The thought of putting her through the questioning left a bitter acid taste in his mouth.

  Elling opened the gate. Dinah pulled her Jeep into the alley. He followed, motioning Elling to close the exits. Isolating the problem was easier than he'd hoped, within the confines of Slag, Moroad couldn't touch them, or her.

  Roar stepped out of the clubhouse followed by Glenn, Aron, Rune. The seriousness of the situation etched on each man's face. He parked his motorcycle, knowing Dinah wasn't running anywhere with the gates closed and the Slag members in attendance.

  Using his hand, he brushed the road dust out of his beard and walked toward Dinah's Jeep. She had exited the vehicle by the time he reached the fender.

  "The guy at the lube and oil place told me I had a short in the brake light before I moved here." Her mouth moved as she chewed on a piece of gum. "Every time I checked though, it was working."

  He wasn't here to talk about her light—which worked fine.

  Pressing his hand against her lower back, he guided her toward the clubhouse. "You can go in the clubhouse."

  "But Roar wants to—"

  "Now isn't the time to argue with me." He stepped through the open door.

  The silence from the members should've warned her about the seriousness of her being brought indoors. His muscles tensed and he made it all the way to the stairs without her questioning him.

  She turned and opened her mouth. He ground his teeth together and gave her a look not to say a word. The more she talked, the worse it would be for her. She'd have every man around after her.

  Slag protected their own. Betrayal was a severe crime. Dinah not only put the club in danger but every member. The men, the women, the children.

  At the top of the stairs, he opened the first door on the left in the large U-shaped second story of the clubhouse. He kept his hand on her, pressuring her to walk forward.

  Once he had her safely inside his room, he said, "You need to stay in here until I come back."

  "What?" She stepped forward. "Why?"

  He blocked the door. Knowing himself well enough to know that he couldn't deal with her at the moment. He battled between knowing he'd been inside Dinah and knowing what he witnessed at the boardwalk. For the first time as a Slag member, he was torn in two different directions.

  "I want to go home. If Roar needs me, have him call. He has my number. If you want to work on my Jeep, fine. I'll pick it up later." She frowned, and her mouth stopped moving as if she swallowed her gum. "What's going on? Why do you look like you're upset with me?"

  His throat spasmed. He'd wanted her loyal to him, and she was anything but.

  "I can't deal with you right now." He stepped back, shut the door, and held it closed.

  On the other side of the door, Dinah tried to turn the handle. His fingers tightened around the knob, keeping her inside. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose, sensing the panic in her attempt to leave the room.

  "Brage," yelled Dinah. "Let me out. This isn't funny."

  He swallowed and braced his free hand on the doorframe. A flashback of her eyes tormented him. Put any man in front of him who'd gone against Slag, and he wouldn't blink while dishing out punishment, but he wasn't used to going up against a woman.

  "We need to talk," said Roar behind him.

  He opened his eyes. "Ja."

  "You can't let her go back to Moroad. They're looking for a way in to take us all out, and she's their trojan. She came through me, hiring her at The Fire Ring. And, you."

  He looked over his shoulder. "I'll take responsibility for her."

  Roar's gaze intensified. "You're too close."

  "I want no one touching her." The muscles in his arms tensed. "Find someone to put a lock on the door. I'm not going to stand here holding the handle all fucking day."

  "Brage!"

  He failed to recognize the high-pitched yell inside the room. The only thing he'd heard out of her mouth was seductive pleasure.

  "You're scaring me." She beat on the door. "Someone...please...let me out."

  "Damnit," he muttered. "Get one of those lazy motherfuckers up here now."

  His head pounded. He'd let her out if he couldn't walk away. She was a woman.

  He had a sister in Seattle. Back in Norway, he had a mother, a sister, aunts, and if any man treated them with anything other than respect, he'd kill them.

  Roar's hand landed on his shoulder. "Viktor is coming with the lock and tools."

  He breathed through his teeth, his arm cramping. Dinah wasn't giving up. She waited longer between tries at the handle, trying to catch him off-guard.

  "Change places with me." Roar stepped closer. "I'll take over."

  "No." Brage remained steady.

  He would be the only one dealing with Dinah. As long as he had his hand on the door, she was safe. Safe from Slag. Safe from him.

  He would deal with the punishment he knew was already set in store when he informed Roar that Dinah had met with a Moroad member.

  Heavy steps pulled him back to the task at hand. Viktor dropped a toolbox at Brage's feet.

  "Will this do?" Viktor held up a slide lock.

  Knowing Dinah was determined to escape the room, he eyed the toolbox. "Do you have two of them?"

  "Ja." Viktor picked up a screw gun.

  "Put one a foot above the handle and the other below." He pried his fingers between the molding and the doorframe, breaking it loose. There needed to be a flat surface. "I hope you have some three-inch screws in there. It needs to hold strong."

  The handle jolted in his hand. Dinah was trying to kick or hit the knob off the door. His bedroom wasn't constructed to be a holding cell for an enemy.

  As soon as the whirring and vibration of the screw gun started, the handle never moved. Instead, Dinah beat on the door. He couldn't let go until the second lock was on. The only way the door would open was if someone from inside the clubhouse let her out. That wouldn't happen.

  All the inconveniences of keeping Dinah here flooded his head. There was no bathroom in the room. There was no food or water. The window opened to a screen that could easily pop out. While he believed Dinah was smart enough not to jump from a two-story window with asphalt below, he had no idea what desperation would do to her.

  Viktor slid the second lock. "It's secure."

  He let go of the handle as if burned and walked toward the stairs. He only made it six feet, and he punched the wall, breaking a hole in the sheetrock. The outburst of frustration only made his hand hurt.

  Chapter 9

  Long after the room upstairs in the Slag Motorcycle Club clubhouse fell silent, Dinah gave up on yelling for help and sat on the floor, pressing her back against the door. Going from the noise earlier that vibrated and penetrated the room, Brage had somehow locked her in.

  The door wouldn't budge.

  Bending her legs, she braced her elbows on her knees and cradled her head with her hands. If this was some kind of joke, she hated Brage's sense of humor.

  The man went from perfect to being the first on her shit list.

  Being locked inside a room wasn't her idea of fun. She also wasn't a fan of the He-man attitude. She had enough of her older brothers trying to strong-arm her to ever put up with that kind of attitude from someone else.

  Her brothers. She jumped to her feet and dug in her back pocket for her phone.

  "Shit," she mumbled, seeing the new crack in the screen.

  Ignoring the damage, she connected with Tony's number and held the cell to her ear. On the second ring, she paced the room.

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sp; The recorded message announcing the number had not set up voicemail played over the phone. She disconnected the call, and sent Tony a text, begging him to reply. The moment the message was sent, it hit her that Brage was upset about where she'd gone today.

  He must've seen her meeting her brother. She knew Moroad MC was after Slag. The reason why wasn't shared with her. She only knew Tony had screwed up, again, and she'd wanted to help him.

  Today, her brother had made it sound like his club would kill him if he failed to get the information they needed on Slag.

  And, now Brage knew about her connection to Moroad. What would that mean for her?

  She couldn't call 911 because Brage could rat out Tony for being in Portland. The judge could force him back into prison for breaking the rules of his release.

  She exhaled loudly. The moment Brage returned, she'd explain her way out of the tight situation.

  In all honesty, she would rather deal with Brage than Tony.

  Brage only knew her body. She could lie her socks off and even have sex with him to get out of the room. Whatever he wanted to hear, she'd say it.

  Then, once her feet hit the sidewalk outside the gate, she'd take off and leave. Her brother would have to fend for himself.

  Her eyes burned, thinking of leaving everything she'd ever known behind. Raised by her brothers was always unconventional. Not a day had gone by that she wasn't reminded of how inadequate she was because of something out of her control.

  Childhood friends were forbidden to come to her house because their parents were afraid of letting Brad and Tony around their children. Her teachers questioned her safety at home. High school counselors interrogated her, believing she was abused, both sexually and physically because of the people who frequented her home. There were rumors going around the town of an underaged girl being around bikers as if she was personally responsible for inviting the Moroad members to her house when they came to talk with her brothers.

  Used to no one believing her, telling the truth no longer mattered to her. People would believe what they wanted, and she stopped fighting to be understood a long time ago. It was probably why she couldn't remember anything before the age of six years old. She'd told too many lies, creating a life for her that was opposite of what she'd lived.

  So, if Brage wanted to question her. She was ready.

  As if she conjured him into arriving by thinking about him, noise came from the other side of the door. She turned in the middle of the room. Tony wasn't around to help her. She was on her own.

  The door opened. Brage filled the doorframe.

  "Come on," he said.

  She hurried out of the room, adrenaline filling her. He could keep his reasons for the shitty treatment and shove them up his ass. She was leaving.

  He grabbed her arm and turned her from heading toward the stairs. "You should use the bathroom. Keep walking straight, take the turn, and it's the third door on your left."

  She peered over the railing to the main floor of the clubhouse. There were Slag members downstairs, gathered in groups around the tables.

  "I don't want to use the bathroom. I want to leave."

  "That's not happening." He widened his stance and looked down.

  She realized her mistake the moment he grabbed her wrist and took her phone. Upset over Tony not answering her call for help, she forgot to hide the cell in her pocket.

  "Hey." She tried to snatch the phone from him and missed. He held her back with one arm, and she slapped out at him. "You can't take my phone. You can't keep me here. Have you lost your mind?"

  "Ja, the moment I met you." He turned her around and gave her a nudge. "Go use the bathroom because I don't know when you'll have another chance."

  She snuffed her gasp and glared at him. "I will fight you with my last breath. You're not holding me prisoner here."

  "What were you doing with a Moroad member?" he said.

  "What were you doing following me?"

  "Answer the question."

  She turned and walked away from him. He'd taken her phone and left her with nothing. Her purse was down in her Jeep with the keys still in the ignition.

  Looking over her shoulder, finding him still standing where she'd left him, she went into the bathroom and hurried to pee. She'd do what he asked, put him at ease, and make a run down the stairway on the other side when she finished. Hopefully, she'd reach her Jeep before he could catch her.

  She flushed the toilet, ran her hands under the faucet, and dried them off on her hips, then peeked through the crack in the door. Expecting Brage to be on the other side of the hallway, it took her a moment to realize she stared at the back of his leather vest.

  He blocked her exit.

  Heart pounding, she acted without thinking. Pushing him as hard as she could, she squeezed past him.

  And, tripped on his boot.

  Landing on her hands and knees, she cried out in pain. Breathing heavily, tears filled her vision. This couldn't be happening.

  Chapter 10

  Roar stood at the head of the table in the meeting room. Brage wanted nothing more than to end the talk between the officers of Slag Motorcycle Club. He understood the threat posed on them by having Dinah right under their nose.

  He understood that if Dinah somehow gained the information they had as they pulled the groups being extorted by Moroad away from the other club, it could put all their lives at risk.

  He understood that she couldn't have her freedom until they decided what they were going to do with her.

  That's where the conflict came in because Slag Motorcycle Club wouldn't kill a woman. There were better ways to hurt someone.

  In the past, when they wanted to make someone pay, they always hurt the person closest to their enemy—normally, a family member. For their enemy to know they caused the scarring, the pain, the traumatic experience, or the death of the person most important to them caused a lasting impression that would never go away. An agony they needed to live with for the rest of their life.

  There was no greater punishment.

  "We know we can't let her go because she'll run back to Idaho, and whether she has information that will compromise our plan or not, it's a sign of weakness on our part. Brage will remain in charge of overseeing she doesn't escape until we get more of an idea of what the hell is going on." Roar dumped a heavy sigh in the room. "Let's close this meeting."

  Brage stood and walked toward the door when Roar called his name. He stepped out of the way of the others. When the room cleared, he looked to his president.

  He and Roar had grown up together in the Slag Seattle Chapter. Only a year apart in age, they'd experienced all of life's stages together within an organized motorcycle club. The bonds were tight. They were family.

  Roar pulled on the braid containing his beard. "I see what this is doing to you."

  "I knew something was off the first night I met her at the party." His gut churned. "She slid onto the seat of my Harley like she'd done it a hundred times."

  Roar grunted. "I hired her."

  Damn women. Norwegians had a weakness for the prettier sex. This time, he'd let down his guard.

  "Don't let her hurt you, brother." Roar walked to the door. "If you need someone to relieve you, Viktor will be on the other side of the wall or give me a call."

  "You've got Lizzy and Coco to watch over." Brage shared a look of understanding with Roar. "Hopefully, tomorrow, I'll have the answers we need."

  "Get some rest." Roar checked his phone. "I'm going to stick around another hour and wait to see what the scouts found out about Brikken Motorcycle Club and Bantorus MC. I don't want too many threats coming at us at once until we secure ourselves first."

  Brage walked out of the room and to the stairs. There was no excuse to party tonight. The Slag members who continued to live within the clubhouse moved around, keeping order to their lives. The others living in rentals in the area were on call. At a moment's notice, they'd ride in if trouble showed up on two wheels.
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br />   In front of his bedroom, he slid the locks and opened the door. After midnight, the room was dark. He let enough light in from the hallway to see Dinah on the bed, a blanket thrown over her shoulders. His throat tightened. He'd put off staying in the room with her after he'd brought her dinner.

  He had a weakness for her. The less time spent around Dinah until he could find the strength not to feel for her, the better.

  Quietly closing the door, he walked over to the chair. He quickly texted Viktor to lock him and Dinah inside the room.

  Taking off his boots, he set them out of the way. He removed his vest and T-shirt. Putting his pistol back under his belt, he stretched out his legs and crossed his arms.

  Keyed up, he wasn't able to rest. He also wasn't prepared to sleep in the bed next to Dinah.

  A soft whine came from the direction of the bed. He let his head fall back against the wall. She was tougher than he'd thought.

  Having only seen her softness and experienced the pleasure she shared with him, the confrontational attitude and bravery she flung at him when she realized what was happening took him by surprise. Then, anger set in.

  She'd dealt with Moroad. She was probably capable of much more than he was aware of.

  A low thrumming filled his ears. He patted his pocket. It wasn't his phone vibrating.

  Remembering that he'd taken Dinah's cell, he retrieved it from his vest and sat back down. Glancing over to make sure she still slept, he checked the text coming through. He scrolled. Make that multiple texts from someone that went by T.

  WTF?

  Need info.

  Tuesday @2

  Hurry the fuck up.

  He scrolled back three times and read old messages. The short messages continued to be filled with impatience and anger. From both T and Dinah—who seemed to disappoint T with her lack of replies in the texts.

  Nothing pointed at what she was doing here, except that T wanted info. Information he assumed was about Slag.

  Looking at her other texts, he found old ones from someone who went by B who seemed to know her on a personal level and asked for money. There were also current ones by Monica regarding work requirements at The Fire Ring. Curious why a woman wouldn't have more texts, he looked through her pictures.