Siege mutters, “Fucking hell, he thinks it’s yoga time.”
I shoot him a disbelieving look, even as Jeremiah tries to stagger to his feet. Without thinking I kick him back with one big boot and growl, “Stay down, you ignorant fuck.” When he doesn’t, I plant that same boot on his chest, pinning him.
Staring down at him, I’m vaguely aware that Rigs is zip-tying the foster parents in my peripheral vision. I don’t spare them another look because my focus is square on Jeremiah now.
When I move my boot up to press gently against his throat, Jeremiah caves in an instant.
“She’s in the root cellar,” he blurts. “I swear, we didn’t lay a hand on her.”
Removing my foot, I haul him up by the front of his shirt and say, “Show me.”
I don’t even have to tell him all about how I’m gonna mess him up if he tries to jerk me around because having my boot on his throat already successfully drove that point home.
He glances over at the gun in Siege’s hand. I can see his shoulders sag. Gesturing towards the back door, he says in a defeated voice, “It’s out back. I’ll show you.”
Just like he said, the root cellar door sits at the back of the house, and I know immediately how he got those injuries on his hands. The cellar has two big doors that not only open horizontally but are made of thick, white metal and the frame is set into concrete. It’s more of a storm shelter than a cellar.
Jeremiah says, “Good luck getting her out of there.”
Siege grabs him by the back of his collar and hauls him back. “How’s about you shut the hell up unless we ask you something that requires an answer.”
I approach the door and give it a gentle knock.
“Natalie, it’s me,” I call, feeling like my chest is caving in. “If you’re in there, let me know.”
There is a short pause and then I hear her respond in a quivering voice: “He killed his mother! I found the evidence, don’t let him get away!”
“Don’t worry, darlin’ we got him and his brother. I’ll take care of that fucker. Open the damn door.”
There is a clink, like she unbolted the door. The sound of metal scraping against metal is the first indication that she’s trying to shove one of the doors open. I grab it with one hand and heave it up, tossing it aside on its hinges. Looking down, I see Natalie with one hand grasping onto a pile of papers and the other blocking the afternoon sun from her eyes.
I reach out and pull her up against my chest. Feeling her heartbeat hammer against mine reassures me she is alive and whole. She clings to me with her free arm as I press my forehead against hers.
“You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
“I’m okay,” she murmurs, clutching the papers at her side.
When I ease back and set her onto her feet, I see fingermarks on her arm where someone tried to grab her.
“Which one of these assholes did this to you?”
She looks over at Jeremiah. Tank has a hold of him, he’s back to looking like a defiant fucker again.
That’s when Siege jumps up, grabs him by the collar again and forces him onto his knees. He zip-ties his hands behind his back, saying over his shoulder, “Depending on the evidence your old lady found, we might end up calling the cops. Don’t even think about giving him a beatdown right before they get here.”
“Let’s take it back inside. We’re exposed here,” I tell him.
“Good call,” Siege says, dragging Jeremiah back to his feet.
Jeremiah’s eyes never leave her as we pass. Although he tries to hide it, I can see the hatred. From where I’m standing, he’s got nothing to hate on her over. He’s not the fuckin’ victim here—she is.
My Natalie doesn’t even look at him, ’cause she knows the Savage Legion is on site and I have her back.
After handing over Jeremiah to Rigs—who takes special delight in dealing with assholes who exploit religion for their own benefit—and he takes him away to join the others, we sit down at the kitchen table, and she starts talking, telling us all about what she found. The words tumble out, making more sense than I ever thought possible.
“When I found out I was…” she pauses and looks at me. I realize we haven’t spoken about the baby.
I pat her hand and smile, “And I’m the happiest man in the world. Go on darlin’ we’ll talk later.”
