Thunderstruck: Neither This Nor That 5 by MariaLisa deMora

Author:MariaLisa deMora [deMora, MariaLisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MLK Publishing
Published: 2019-01-27T16:00:00+00:00

Seven

Justine

She retched as she became aware, her head pounding so hard until getting away from the pain was all she could think about. Vomiting didn’t help, but lying still did, so she relaxed as best she could, holding in place as she paid close attention to everything around her. Fear was a distant emotion, muffled by whatever had been used to incapacity her, and she was glad for that small favor. Listening intently, there were some sounds she could place, and some she couldn’t. Close by came the soft plink of a dripping faucet, offset by the hum of some gas-powered yard implement in the far distance. The shuffling of boot leather on a wooden floor marked the approach of someone, and Justine made sure her face was relaxed, every breath she took was controlled, even, and slow. Playing possum seemed to have worked, because only a moment later the footsteps retreated.

Silence for a moment, then a man’s voice. “No, she’s still out. You see anything yet?” A pause where she could hear the buzz of someone speaking on the other end of the call. “Let me know soon as, man. I gotta gear up for this shit.” Silence, then the rattle as the phone was laid on a wooden surface, likely a table from the hollow sound.

The last thing she remembered was the hand over her mouth, waking her from a sound sleep in Wildman’s bed. Fortunately she remembered everything from the night before, or the soreness between her legs would give her pause.

The conversation she’d just overheard gave her an idea of what had happened. She’d been working as an unauthorized undercover agent, posing as a victim of the Mexican drug cartel’s flesh-trafficking scheme, and been inadvertently rescued by a local motorcycle club. Their patches had identified them as Incoherent and the Caddo Hobos MCs, both a one-percent groups who were deemed helpful by local federal authorities. They didn’t stay on the right side of the line, but the illegal activities they conducted wasn’t enough to override the beneficial effect they had on the communities where they held clubhouses. She’d studied all the known criminal elements in the area before going dark and IMC, the club Wildman was part of, was one that had caught her attention.

So, first she’d been rescued by a member of the dominant MC in the area, in a clear strike against the encroachment of the cartel, and then taken in turn by someone else. Jesus, what a fuck-up. Not part of the cartel, because there was no trace of accent in this man’s voice, and the cadence of the voice on the other end hadn’t carried it, either. The man who was her captor now likely had been the one to hold the chloroform rag over her mouth, and his counterpart, whoever he was, had positioned himself far enough away that they expected him to see something before it could be known from this location. And he was an amateur, because not only

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