by Bella Jewel
She’s right.
And I will do that.
Just not right now.
Right now, I’m going to drink this pain away for a little longer.
~*~*~*~
MASON
“You found her,” Malakai says when I walk in, dragging Yolanda by the shoulder.
She’s protesting and has protested the whole way here. I had to tackle her into my house to get my truck keys, because I couldn’t bring her here on the bike, and then up the stairs so I could find some cuffs to keep her still. Saskia and her are nothing alike, that much is for certain, but when it comes to their willpower, they definitely share the same genes.
Yolanda hasn’t backed down yet.
Not once.
“Not her,” I mutter, shaking Yolanda a little to try and stop her little song and dance.
“Huh?” Malakai says, shaking his head.
“This isn’t Saskia, it’s her twin fuckin’ sister who had the fuckin’ balls to set us all up to think it was Saskia so she and my motherfuckin’ sister could get away with robbin’ me to pay off that piece of shit’s debt.”
Malakai stares at the girl for a long minute. “No fuckin’ kiddin’.”
“So, I’m keepin’ her here. It wasn’t personal for me before. It fuckin’ is now. That piece of shit in prison had the utter fuckin’ nerve to set up a plan to rob me and get my girl in danger, so now he’s messin’ with not just Saskia, but me, too.”
“And us,” Malakai says, glaring now at the girl who looks so much like Saskia, right down to the hair style, it’s hard to believe it isn’t her.
“Yeah,” I growl. “And the club.”
“Saskia paid for what she did,” Malakai runs his hands through his hair. “Way to make us feel like shit. Poor girl did fuck-all.”
“Yeah, and it gets fuckin’ better …”
“You found her,” Koda says, coming into the room followed by Maverick.
“Twin sister,” Malakai informs them for me. “Long story, but Saskia didn’t do fuck-all, which is why Scarlett let her go.”
The two men stare at Yolanda. “Fuck me.” Koda shakes his head. “Spitting image.”
“That’s what twins are, you jerk off,” Yolanda spits finally, squirming again.
“Anyone got somethin’ to stuff in this bitch’s mouth?” I snap. “Can’t stand to look at her for a second longer, let alone hear her.”
“Didn’t stop you from putting your fucking fingers in me earlier.” She grins, eyes … empty. They’re empty.
Saskia’s hold so much promise, and love, and sass, and everything good.
Yolanda’s contain a coldness that’s alarming.
“Didn’t fuckin’ know it was you, bitch, and if you open your mouth once more I swear to fuckin’ God I’ll put my fuckin’ gun in it. You think you know who you’re dealin’ with, you do not. We’re not like the little boys you dance with.”
She opens her mouth and then closes it and her eyes get a little wide. “You can’t manhandle me,” she decides to say, stupidly. “I’m pregnant.”
“Don’t care what you are. I ain’t hurtin’ you, I’m just goin’ to shut you up. And if you think I care about a child made with that piece of shit sitting behind bars, you’re sadly mistaken.”
She huffs and glares at me but, smartly, doesn’t say anything more.
“Chalk and cheese, completely different,” Maverick mutters.
“Yeah,” Koda agrees. “Makes me feel like shit for gangin’ up on Saskia, poor kid. Didn’t even give her a chance to defend herself.”
Those words punch me right in the chest, because he’s right. We didn’t give her a chance to defend herself. We didn’t even tell her what we had seen. If we did, she could have told us about her sister. Instead, we just treated her like scum, without even hesitating to believe that something might be off. Hell, we didn’t even consider, at the very least, that she could have been blackmailed into it or threatened.
We just assumed she was the worst kind of human being.
And that makes me sick to my fucking stomach.
Because she is the best woman I know.
“Where is Saskia?” Maverick asks. “She safe out there? Because seems to me like this situation is spiraling out a little. I’m guessin’ she was goin’ to trade that jewelry for cash, to get her boyfriend off the hook, but she didn’t do that, so high chance someone out there is lookin’ for her …”
I look to Yolanda. “Speak. Fuckin’ now. Is someone expectin’ cash?”
“Yes, you fuckin’ moron!” she hisses. “That’s why I need that jewelry.”
“You mean the fuckin’ jewelry that isn’t yours?”
She flinches. “I’m three hours past the time I was meant to deliver the cash for Enzo, which means not only is he going to be in danger, but so am I! They’re bad people. They want their money. And they’re probably going to kill people until they get it.”
My blood runs cold.
I have Yolanda, but Saskia is still out there. Unprotected. Looking exactly like the woman they’re looking for.
I shove Yolanda at Koda, who catches her with ease.
“Gotta find Saskia,” I say, clenching my fists, because fuck, the girl is in danger and she doesn’t know it. “She looks exactly like Yolanda, they get hold of her, and she’s as good as dead.”
Malakai nods. “Comin’ with you. You called her?”
“Phone ain’t with her. I’ll check home, Chantelle’s, anywhere she might be.”
“We’ll do a scour of the local areas, see if we can see her,” Malakai nods.
“I’ll take care of this one.” Koda grins, that devilish smile saying he’s not going to be nice about it.
I couldn’t give a fuck.
I just need to find my girl.
Now.
~23~
SASKIA
It’s midnight.
I think.
I have no idea.
All I know is Chantelle and I ended up at a bar in town, drinking and dancing, both of us trying to forget the day’s events. We went utterly crazy, and I drank way, way, way too much. Chantelle, last time I checked, was still dancing the night away. That girl will go until three in the morning, but not me, I’m exhausted. Emotionally, physically, and mentally. I want to go to sleep, and I’ve had well and truly enough to drink.
My vision swims a little, and my steps are wobbly.
I got her spare keys and told her I’m going; she assured me she’ll be done soon. She’s a big girl, I’m not going to drag her out. She parties harder than most men I know, she can handle her own.
I am now out front of the bar, waiting in the line for a cab.
It’s long.
It’s a busy night tonight. Some live band playing, so everyone is out and about.
I rub my arms—it’s cold
So freaking cold. I should have brought a coat with me. By the time I get a cab, I’ll be freezing, no doubt.
I glance down the street. If I walked five or six blocks, I could flag one down up there a lot quicker. It would save me waiting in this line.
Shrugging, I make sure I’ve got cash in my pocket, thanks to Chantelle, and then I step out of the line and start, very slowly, making my way down the street, toward a quieter area. I’m tired, and I want to sleep. I don’t want to wait.
I walk, or sway, depending on how you look at it.
It’s cool, but the walking helps, warming my body up, no doubt making the alcohol work even stronger. Marvelous.
I’m three blocks down and into the more congested area of town when a car slows down beside me. There are a few people around, but a good majority of them are drunk, paying zero attention to me, wobbling down the street on my own.
“Hello, Yolanda.”
I turn and stare at a blond man who is climbing out of a dark-blue truck. Did he just call me Yolanda?
“Pardon me?” I mutter, rubbing my hand down my face because, damn, I’m drunk.
“You
didn’t think you could just get away, did you?”
I shake my head. “Listen, buddy, I’ve had about enough of this shit to last me a life time. I’m not Yolanda.”
The man grins. “Well, that’s a new one. Most people are running and screaming by now.”
I grunt. “Well, considering I’m not Yolanda, I have no reason to go running and screaming, now do I?”
He grins bigger, and it’s creepy. Two other men climb out of the car, and it’s only then that I realize this is not good. It’s really not good. These people actually think I’m Yolanda. And they clearly want her. Probably for cash. Probably for revenge. God knows, but I’m not taking another blow for that girl.
I reach for my purse, only I don’t have my identification on me, because my money and phone are still at Mason’s house. They didn’t give me a chance to take it when they cornered me and dragged me out. I only have cash. I had no problem getting into the bar, because, well, I don’t look under twenty-one.
But, this means I can’t prove I’m not Yolanda.
“Listen,” I say, backing up. “I’m not Yolanda. I swear to god. I’m her twin sister.”
The man bursts out laughing, and the other two men climb out of the car and stalk toward me.
“That’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, but we have your photos, and your information, so now you’re going to come and take a little ride with us.”
“Oh, hell no I’m not,” I snap, putting my hands up. “I’m not Yolanda!”
“Now—” the blond man grins “—you are.”
He grabs hold of me, and I screech, as loudly as I can. “Help! He’s kidnapping me! Help!”
Two people stop, a young male and female, and their eyes bug. People over the road have turned to look now, too.
“Is … is uh, everything okay?” the man asks, stepping closer to me.
The man, holding me with one, big beefy hand, pulls his jacket open to show a gun. “You keep walking, boy, or I’ll blow your brains out over this sidewalk.”
The young man’s eyes widen, and he starts walking.
“Coward!” I screech as I’m dragged to the car and shoved inside.
I see people starting to walk over from the other side of the road, but none of them make it to the car in time before it drives off.
I’m in the back with two, very big, very angry men, gripping me so hard there is no chance of escape, none whatsoever. I start to panic, because this situation just became very, very dangerous. These men aren’t messing around, that’s apparent, which means I’m in a very dire situation right now.
And nobody knows where I am.
Chantelle isn’t even going to figure out I’m gone until morning.
Oh, God.
This is bad.
Really bad.
“I’m not Yolanda,” I try again, pathetically.
A gun is pressed to my temple, and my lip starts to tremble. Fear, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, rips through my body.
She’s ruined my life.
She’s taken so much from me.
And now, my sister is going to be the reason I die.
~*~*~*~
MASON
All fucking night.
Searched for her all fucking night.
Not a sign of her.
Nobody was at Chantelle’s house, and nobody had been back to my house.
I even went past Theresa’s house. Yolanda’s house. Nothing.
There is no sign of her.
Fucking wild, Malakai and I go back to Chantelle’s house to see if she’s home yet. If anyone knows where Saskia is, it’ll be her.
It’s only about six in the morning, but we roll right up and bang on her front door, pounding and pounding, calling out her name. She answers after about five minutes, sleepy, mascara running down her cheeks, looking like she had a big fucking night.
Hope sparks in my chest.
Maybe they went out and Saskia is here. Chantelle doesn’t look worried, which gives me a small sunshine of hope.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” she mutters, rubbing her eyes. “So leave.”
“So, she’s here?”
Chantelle stares at me, and then blinks. “I …”
She hesitates. For a split second. And every ounce of hope I had, fades. She doesn’t know if she’s here. How the fuck could she not know if she’s here or not?
“Is. She. Here?” I growl.
“Keep your shirt on. We went out last night, but she left earlier than me and caught a cab home. I didn’t check when I got home, because, well, why would I?”
“Let me in, now,” I demand, stepping closer.
“Whoa there, buddy, if she doesn’t want to see you, she doesn’t want to see you. I’m not going to go against her …”
“You listen to me, woman,” I hiss, leaning in close. “There are bad men out there, fuckin’ bad men lookin’ for her sister. Who do you think looks like her sister? I have Yolanda, which means if they find someone, it’s Saskia. They find her, she’s in deep shit. I’m not here because of what went down, I’m here to make sure she’s okay.”
Chantelle’s eyes widen. “Shit.”
She steps out of the way and we move into the house. She points to the bedroom door that Saskia should be behind, and I fucking cross my fingers. I actually cross my fingers. I don’t care if I open that door and she loses her shit at me, telling me she hates me and never to come back, I don’t care because I’ll know she’s okay and I can keep her safe.
I grab the door handle and twist it, taking a breath and pushing it open.
The bed is empty.
My eyes dart around the room, looking for any trace of her, but no one is in there. I spin around. “Bathroom, where is it?”
Chantelle rushes down the hall and pushes the bathroom door open, then steps out, shaking her head, the fear real in her eyes. “She’s not here. Oh, God. How did I not know she wasn’t here?”
My first instinct is to throttle her, but that’s not a fair reaction. The girl isn’t responsible for Saskia, and she’s certainly not responsible for checking on her every night before she goes to bed. It isn’t her fault.
“Not your fault,” I say, and the heaviness in my chest very nearly brings me to my fucking knees.
My girl is gone.
And I have no fucking idea where she is, or what’s happening to her.
All because of me and my stupid fucking mouth.
I should have given her a chance, should have let her talk, instead I went off halfcocked and caused all of this to happen.
My stupid fucking pride got in the way, and now she’s in danger.
Big time.
~24~
SASKIA
My wrists burn. They’ve tied me so tight I can’t even twist them side to side in some pathetic attempt at getting away. Even if I did get out, I’ve got nowhere to go; I don’t even know where I am. Some strange house, locked in a damned basement, with literally no idea how to get out. I have no idea what they’re going to do with me, but one thing is clear—it doesn’t matter how much I tell them I’m not Yolanda, they don’t believe me.
Which means I’m screwed, yet again, by my selfish sister.
It’s morning now; I can tell by the light coming through a window that’s far too high for me to reach. Even if I wasn’t tied down, I wouldn’t be able to get close to getting out of it. But, the good thing is, morning means Chantelle will realize I’m not there, hopefully become alarmed, and call Mason. As much as I don’t want to see him, that club might be the only people who can get me out of this.
Because I don’t know what they’re going to do with me.
I’ve seen these kinds of stories. You don’t get away with taking money from people like this, so they very likely might hurt me to make an example of what exactly it is they’ll do if they’re not paid. What better way to prove a point and get a message across, not only to Enzo but to everyone else out there who dares to cross them, then to kill his pregnant girlfri
end.
Only I’m not his pregnant girlfriend.
I’m his ex-girlfriend, who had no idea the kind of man she spent so many years with.
But, they don’t know that. Why would they? They don’t care. They know Enzo owes them money, he obviously didn’t come through with it when promised, and now they’re pissed off.
I’m trying not to be afraid, but I’d like to think I’m stronger than to let fear bring me down and show weakness, but the truth of the matter is, deep down inside, I’m so scared. I’m so damned scared of what’s going to happen next. I have no idea, and that scares me more, because any second everything could change. What if nobody finds me in time? They might have absolutely no reason to keep me alive. None at all.
I twist again, but my hands are so tightly bound and so are my feet. I’m not getting out of here anytime soon.
The door opens, and my head whips up to see the blond man from the night before coming down the stairs, followed by the same two men he was with. So far, they haven’t hurt me, but I know I’m naïve in thinking that won’t change. They’re going to hurt me, probably in brutal ways, and there is going to be sweet fuck-all I can do about it.
I hold the eyes of the blond man, even when he stops in front of me and looks down, like I’m pathetic, like he could just snap me like a twig and there’d be nothing I could do about it. He’s probably right, only I’m not pathetic. I will not give in and go down with tears in my eyes. Not me. Not Saskia.
Never.
“You’ll get one chance to tell the truth before we make you tell the truth.”
I don’t say anything. I let him continue, because he’s going to anyway.
“Now, you promised us cash, a fuck load of it. Delivered yesterday. You didn’t come through, and you honestly thought we wouldn’t find you and track you down? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid girl.”
He’s right, that would be stupid.
But Yolanda would have had the cash, if I didn’t take the jewelry and give it back to Mason.
“Where is the cash?”
