His Property (Iron Bandits MC)

Brian noticed, but didn’t realize the significance. He smirked.

“Where’s my baby?” I wasn’t going to waste time. He knew I was here for one purpose, so there was no point in making small talk.

“Safe enough. God, but you are a sight for sore eyes, Ellie. You look beautiful.” He was really cracked.

“Bring me to my baby, you psychopath.” I was not going to play nice. I saw no benefit in playing games with this man.

“Just let me hold you for a minute, Ellie. We’ve been waiting for so long.”

Whaaat? Um, no.

“Brian, please. I really need to feed him. Just get me to my baby, let me feed him, then we can catch up.” I hoped that would put him off, and get me what I needed, without more delay. Clearly, he was delusional. I’d have to play his game, from the looks of it. But I would play it my way.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. That kid cries so much, Elsabeth.”—I flinched at the made-up nickname.—“ I don’t know how you stand it. I almost went out of my mind last night, couldn’t sleep, he was crying so hard, all night long, felt like.”

I felt the blood flood my head, and my vision nearly went red. My ears pounded with my heartbeat. I hated this man with every fiber of my being.

“Let’s go, Brian.”

He tried to take my hand, but I pulled it away, and indicated he needed to go ahead of me, to lead the way. He looked dejected for a moment, furrowed his brow, and muttered, “So difficult. Why do you have to be so difficult?” But he did as I bade, and we finally began moving.

It was easy, with him in front, for me to leave the trail of cheese puffs. So that part of the plan was working out well. I hadn’t heard so much as a rustle of dead bush or leaf or the pop of dried twigs coming from behind me. Either Jack and the guys were way far behind us, or they were stealth-maneuver masters.

After a few minutes on the trail, Brian took us off-trail at a sharp angle around a short but deadly-looking cactus. I dumped the whole rest of my bag there in an arc; Brian didn’t turn around to notice. I couldn’t believe my luck. The guy was way less with it than I had imagined—and I hadn’t been giving him much credit for greatness, before.

I quickly plucked another bag of puffs out of my pack and opened it, popping one in my mouth when Brian turned to check that I had followed his curve.

“Mm. I love cheese puffs.” And he back-tracked to me and opened his mouth, like a baby bird for me to feed. Ew.

“Here, take the bag if you want some, Brian. I want my own bag.” I was not going to hand-feed this psycho.

“Thanks, darlin’. You do know how to take care of me, don’t you? It’s part of why I love you so much. You’re the best.” And he smiled at me.

I did my best to smile back, but it was so extremely fake that I felt it must more resemble a grimace than a smile. He failed to notice the difference, took the bag, and raised my extended hand to his mouth to kiss. I pulled it away before he got there, and pretended like I had an itch on my arm. He watched me for a moment, and seemed to get lost in thought.

“Brian! Come on. Let’s go. I really need to get to Peter. Like, now. How much farther do we need to go?”

“Not much, darlin’. Just a few minutes away.”

Well. A few turned into probably twenty-five, but who was counting?

All the while, I was thinking about what I might do, myself, to get Peter and myself away from Brian without the help of the MC guys. After all, I had heard nothing the whole way along, and was beginning to wonder if they were really out there behind me or not. Better that I sort out a plan for myself, just in case. If they did happen to show up and do something, great. But I was not going to be up shit creek without a paddle. I had brains, and I would use them.

Even so, I kept it up with the cheese puffs—no point in not using a tool when one is given. Even if the MC guys gave up and turned around, I would need the trail to get Peter and myself out of here.

Eventually, we finally got close. I knew it when I heard the very unhappy, weak wails of my son from somewhere in a close vicinity, hidden from my sight by an outcropping of those damned rocks.

I started running toward the sound, having to trail around the formations as I went, and making several wrong choices along the way. This I knew from the deranged laughter of the psychopath behind me, but I didn’t let it slow me down. I knew I was close—I just kept moving toward the soft wails as best I could, trailing those freaking cheese puffs the whole way along in a steady stream from the now-down-tipped bag.