Seven Crows

by Kate Kessler

  Danny nodded. “Yeah, you bloodthirsty bitch.” He grinned. “You’re the kind of vicious I want at my back.”

  Jackie beamed, and Arlo looked proud enough to burst. Killian turned to Dash, meeting his gaze. For a split second it was as though they both silently acknowledged just how fucked up the whole thing was, and then they let it meld back into surreal reality.

  The small group filed into the meeting room and took their seats around the table. Killian, Dash, and Jackie let the Crows sit first, then filled in the remaining chairs.

  As she sat down, Killian’s phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her jacket and checked it, just in case it was Megan. She didn’t recognize the phone number—it wasn’t on her tiny call list. Her gaze skimmed over the text, each word chilling her blood more than the last.

  “Fuck,” she said, loud enough that everyone turned to look at her.

  “What is it?” Danny asked.

  Killian slid her phone down the surface of the table to him. Better to let him read for himself. She watched as his jaw tightened.

  “‘I’ve got your girl, bitch,’” he read aloud, deep voice booming. “‘If you’re not here in an hour I’ll let another one of my guys fuck her.’”

  “He sent it three minutes ago,” Killian said. “Look at the photo.” Rage twisted at her stomach and throat. Wex had sent along a picture of Shannon tied up, her face bruised—eyes black, lip cut. Someone had beat her mercilessly. If only she had taught Shannon to fight when she was young.

  “You know this is a trap,” Dash said. “Right?”

  “You know I do,” she replied hotly. “He’s baiting me, and it’s working.”

  “You think he means what he said?” Danny asked.

  Killian nodded. “I can’t risk assuming he doesn’t. He knows I’m coming for him. He’s just trying to control the where and when.”

  “Word is that they’re still planning a trip to Mass. this afternoon,” Dash shared. “I checked with some friends around Boston and they said that at least half the club was coming up.”

  “The girl probably won’t be there,” Arlo said. “You don’t shit where you eat.”

  “Again, can’t risk it.” Killian shook her head. “This doesn’t change anything except now I know that son of a bitch will be there when we show up.”

  “Dead or alive?” Danny asked. “How do you want him?”

  “Alive, for now. I’m having a hard time believing Wex orchestrated this on his own.”

  “You think Rank’s behind it?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised. Anyway, I want to talk to him first.”

  “And if he won’t talk?”

  Seriously? He actually bothered to ask? “Then he’s not much good to anyone anywhere.”

  “It’s your right to kill him under our charter,” Danny reminded her. “Do you want to exercise that right?”

  “I’ve already thought of six ways to end him,” Killian added, “but, yeah. If he’s there when we arrive, we find out where Shannon is first, then let the scavengers have what’s left.”

  Danny nodded. “All right. All those in favor of taking Wex, president of the Sons of Bitches, out of commission today, raise your hand.”

  Every hand went up.

  “All right, there’s now a warrant of death hanging over Wex’s head. Anyone who finds him is to hold him long enough for Killian to ask her questions.”

  “You seriously think he’s going to roll over on Rank?” Jackie asked.

  Killian massaged her already bruised knuckles. “He’ll talk. They always do.”

  Nine

  Shannon’s entire body hurt.

  They’d caught her before she reached the road. One of the men who grabbed her punched her—more than once. She’d never been hit like that before. Cody had slapped her, and she thought that hurt, but nothing could have prepared her for what it felt like to be beaten.

  Now she spent a lot of time tied up, or with her mobility restricted. No one wanted to wipe her ass for her, so she was free to do that, but not much else. And anyone who entered her room was on high alert. There’d be no element of surprise now.

  She should have learned to fight. Aunt Killy offered to teach her once, but she thought that was too base for her. Only dykes threw punches, right? Jesus, how stupid could she be? Madallya knew how to fight, and it hadn’t done her any good, but she hadn’t had Aunt Killy as a teacher.

  The guy—Wex—told her when he took that picture of her that he was sending it to her aunt as an invitation.

  “She’s going to kick your ass so hard you’ll be shitting out your mouth,” she told him. Her insides trembled even as she talked tough. WWKD—What Would Killy Do?

  He laughed—like she’d just told a joke. “Not if I put a bullet through her skull first.”

  Silently, Shannon prayed. She prayed that she got out of this alive, and she prayed that her aunt was given the strength to kill the bastard who raped her. Not only that, but that Killian was able to kill all of them. And get away with it.

  She had to get away with it.

  She sat on the mattress and rested her forehead on her bent knees. The only thing worse than the long stretches of boredom was the fear that spiked when someone opened the door. Her heart jumped up into the back of her throat when she heard a key in the lock.

  Please let it be anyone but him. She’d rather be beaten unconscious than have her face shoved into that mattress again.

  The door swung open. Standing on the other side of the threshold was Wex. Shannon breathed a little easier. He was an asshole, but so far he hadn’t hurt her, and she was thankful for that. Still, she didn’t fool herself into thinking he was any kind of hero. He was the one who’d abducted her. The one who wanted to use her against her aunt.

  “Get up,” he commanded.

  She waited for him to come offer her a hand, but he didn’t. Getting to her feet was a struggle, even with her hands and feet loosely bound. Finally, she managed to stand. She met his gaze defiantly, chin high. She wasn’t going to let him see her fear, even if one of her eyes was almost swollen shut and her face the color of a bag of grapes.

  He smiled at her. “You’ve got a lot of her spirit, you know that? It makes you so much more fun to break. C’mon, time to go.”

  Shannon frowned. Hadn’t he just sent Aunt Killy a photo meant to bring her here? “Where are we going?”

  “Somewhere else,” he replied with a smirk. “Now get your ass over here.”

  She shuffled forward. “I thought my aunt was on her way.”

  “Did you think the two of you were going to have some kind of tearful reunion?” he asked mockingly. “I’m going to let her watch while I fuck you and kill you, then I’m going to kill her and send her body to Rank.”

  Shannon didn’t know who Rank was, and it didn’t matter. She knew Wex wasn’t just making melodramatic statements—he meant every word.

  “I’m not going with you willingly,” she said. “I’m not some fucking cow you can lead to the butcher.”

  He came at her quick, slapping her face hard enough to knock her off-balance. Before she could fall, however, he bent down and tossed her over his shoulder like he was Santa and she was a bag of presents. She doubled her fists and pounded them against his back. He punched her in the side. She screamed in pain.

  “Hit me again and you’ll get worse than that,” he promised.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked through her tears. It wasn’t the first time she’d asked him that question.

  “Because you’re both unfinished business,” he said, turning and walking toward the door. “I can’t be worrying about Killian sneaking up on me anymore. And killing her will teach that mangled motherfucker who really ought to be in charge.”

  None of it made any sense to her. “How—?”

  Cruel fingers dug into the back of her thigh. “Shut up, bitch.”

  She did. Coward, she thought. Aunt Killy would keep on him. Aunt Killy would have broken his fucking nec
k by now.

  He carried her through the building. Shame burned behind her eyes at the catcalls and nasty comments. She could smell her own stink, which made it even worse. Cody once told her she was a queen—so fine it hurt his eyes. What would he think of her now? If she did somehow manage to make it out of this alive, she was going to make him pay for betraying her.

  A door slammed, and suddenly she was blinded by bright daylight. Cold breathed over her exposed back, penetrating to her bones. There was no stopping the shudder that raced through her.

  “Keep fucking still,” Wex growled. She heard the beeping of a car being unlocked, and then he dropped her.

  Into the trunk.

  Panic took hold as he reached up. Her bladder spasmed, threatening to humiliate her further. “Please,” she begged. “Don’t.”

  “It’s a short ride,” he promised with a smile and then slammed the trunk shut.

  Shannon screamed. She kicked and pounded, but nothing happened. The car engine started, the whole vehicle seemed to vibrate beneath and around her, and then they were moving.

  It was dark. Almost pitch, except for a sliver of light where the seal had let go. The carpet beneath her was rough, and something smelled of motor oil. Her foot kicked something heavy. Bending her knees, she scootched it up until she could grab it with her hand. She laughed.

  A crowbar. She’d seen enough movies to know what to do with it. She curled her fingers around it and held on tight, so tight her fingers began to ache and her knuckles felt numb.

  The car hit a bump, jarring her battered body and making her whimper. She flexed her stiff fingers and tried to shift her body in the small space.

  After what felt like forever, they came to a stop. She heard a noise but didn’t know what it was. The car rolled forward slowly, driving over a speed bump. Was that a gate she heard closing?

  Finally, the car stopped and the engine died. Everything went perfectly still. Shannon clutched the crowbar against her chest. Her heart slammed against her ribs and echoed in her throat. There was the beep, followed by the sound of the lock letting go.

  The trunk opened. White light blinded her, feeding her panic. She swung wildly, throwing her body upright. She struck something solid and heard a cry of pain. She swung again and again. The third time all she got was air.

  The world came into focus. She was on her knees in the trunk. Wex was on the pavement, bleeding from a cut above his eye and from his nose. Had she broken it? She lurched out of the car, standing on legs that shook so bad they could barely support her weight. The crowbar was still in her hands, slick with blood.

  “You fucking little cunt,” Wex said, wiping at the blood dripping into his eye. “You’re going to pay for that.”

  Shannon lunged at him, swinging wildly, crazily. He raised his hands and she hit those, too, felt the crunch of his wrist as she struck them. He screamed again. She made a noise that was half laugh, half sob and swung again, even though her shoulders burned and her entire body felt like it was shutting down.

  A hand shot out from over her shoulder and grabbed the crowbar while another wrapped around her waist, applying just enough pressure to hurt. They were so much stronger than her; they easily took the weapon away.

  “No,” she whimpered, trying to reach for it again, but then it was gone. She hung her head in defeat. Tears streamed down her face.

  “It’s okay, little lady,” a soothing voice told her. “You’re safe now.”

  He was lying, but he wasn’t. She could hear an element of sincerity in his low tone. Safe was a relative term, wasn’t it? He meant she was safe from Wex. Safe from the guy who had raped her. Safe from the man who had beat her. She was safe from them, but she wasn’t safe.

  Still, it was something. She went limp in his hold when he tossed the crowbar into the trunk again. All she could see was his arms. He wore a lot of black and had tattoos and rings. His skin was almost as dark as Auntie Bless on her father’s side. But it was that voice of his that took the fight out of her.

  “I’m gonna carry you upstairs, sweet girl. You just relax now.”

  Suddenly she was swept off her feet and cradled in strong arms. He didn’t sling her over his shoulder like garbage. She looked at his face. He had high cheekbones and eyes as dark as a deer’s, framed with thick lashes. His head was shaved smooth, and when he smiled at her, his teeth were straight and white.

  He was beautiful, and at that moment he was the closest thing she had to a savior.

  “I’m Dakwon,” he told her. “I’m gonna look after you while you’re here, okay? You don’t worry about nuthin’.”

  Shannon nodded.

  He carried her into a large building that looked like an old factory on the outside, but looked like something she’d seen on Love and Hip Hop on the inside. The walls were dark cinnamon with art all over them. The floors shone like they were wet, they were so glossy. There was a large desk and a row of TV screens that showed various locations outside. Another guy in a black suit was behind that desk, watching the screens.

  “He wants you to take her up,” he said to Dakwon.

  He carried her up a winding staircase as if she were light as a feather. When they reached the second floor, he continued to hold her.

  “Hello, Shannon,” said a new voice. This was raspy, with a Latino lilt. Shannon turned her head to look at him.

  And froze.

  All the comfort she’d felt in Dakwon’s arms disappeared as she looked at the ugly, hideous…thing in front of her. His face was twisted, distorted. One side of his body seemed higher than the other. It was like someone had taken him apart and put him back together wrong, or had forgotten some of his pieces.

  The fact that he was smiling didn’t help.

  She didn’t scream. Instead she took a deep breath. Her arms were still tight around Dakwon’s neck. “Hello.”

  “Welcome to my home. I’m Rank Cirello. I want to apologize for the treatment you’ve suffered at the hands of Wex and his associates. Dakwon, why don’t you set Miss Shannon on the sofa?” His smile softened when she gripped Dakwon all the harder. “You may sit with her.”

  Only then did Shannon relax enough for her savior to put her down. He didn’t sit with her, but he stood beside her, his hand resting against her arm.

  “I’ve arranged a bath for you,” Rank told her. “And for some clean clothes as well. Are you hungry?”

  Before she could nod, her stomach answered for her, growling viciously. Rank chuckled. “I’ll order some food as well. What’s your favorite?”

  “Pizza?” She glanced up at Dakwon. He gave her that gentle smile.

  “How do you like it, my lady?” he asked.

  She told him, then turned her attention back to Rank when Dakwon pulled out his phone to order. The sound of him typing was oddly relaxing.

  “Do you know who I am?” Rank asked her.

  She shook her head.

  “I’m why Killian went to prison.”

  Shannon stared at this mess of a person while her brain tried to make sense of it. Aunt Killy had done that?

  As if reading her mind, he nodded slowly. “She’s an amazingly violent woman. In another life I would have hired her.” He leaned against his desk. That’s when she noticed the cane in his hand. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to use you as leverage against Killian, but I promise you I will not hurt you.”

  She didn’t trust him. “But you’re going to hurt her.”

  He shrugged. “I intend to settle the unfinished business between us.”

  Shannon wasn’t sure exactly what that meant, but she assumed it wasn’t good. This guy was like the gangsters in her books, only he wasn’t hot or smooth. He was just…bad. Dangerous. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Wex came pounding up the stairs.

  “Fucking bitch broke my goddamn nose!” he yelled. “What are you doing, having a fucking tea party?”

  Rank looked at him. “You’re a mess. Did you do this, Shannon?”

 
She hesitated, then nodded.

  There was that horrific smile again. “Well done. You have some of Killian in you. Tell me, did Wex or one of his people give you those bruises?”

  “Yes.”

  “And were you hurt in any other ways?”

  “One of his guys…” She glanced up at Dakwon, who nodded. “One of his guys raped me.”

  “Has Wex himself hurt you?”

  “He hit me.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Rank said. His hand moved as fast as a snake and there was a sudden loud bang! Shannon shrieked and watched in horror as Wex fell to the floor, blood seeping from a hole in his forehead. She stared at his body, her mouth hanging open.

  “Consider that the first of my apologies for your ill treatment,” Rank told her. “Dakwon, get Jimmy up here to clean this up, will you?”

  “Yes, boss.” He gave Shannon’s shoulder a squeeze before he left.

  Shannon just sat there, frozen in shock. She didn’t even blink when a guy came to haul the body away.

  “Now, then,” Rank said, clapping his hands together as if nothing had happened, as though he hadn’t just shot a man in the head and wasn’t standing in brain splatter. “How about that bath?”

  Twelve years ago

  Killian fell to her knees beside Jason. One of her knees smashed against a rock, but she barely felt it—her body was numb, and there was a voice screaming so loudly in her head that she couldn’t think.

  The car carrying the SOBs who had shot him tore off down the street as she reached for Jay. Blood soaked the front of his T-shirt and streamed like a fountain from his neck. She pressed her hands to the wound. Warm blood fought for release against one of her palms.

  Jason’s eyes were wild, staring up at her as he struggled to breathe. All she could hear was a sick gurgling sound. He tried to speak but couldn’t.

  “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered. “You just be quiet. Help’s on the way.” Someone in the house would have called 911, right? They had to.

  He grabbed her leg, his fingers desperate and claw-like, but weak. He was dying—she knew it and he knew it. It was in the whites of his eyes.