by Wilder, L.
Maverick sounded anxious when he asked, “Should we take him back to the clubhouse?”
“We don’t have time for that.” Stitch stood up and walked over to the counter. “We gotta stop the bleeding.”
He started searching through the various kitchen drawers, and Maverick asked, “What are you going to do?”
“Just get him in the chair.”
Maverick and I reached down and tried to pick up Phillips. It was no small feat. He wasn’t exactly a little man, and lifting his dead weight off the floor and onto a chair took a bit of maneuvering. Hell, Maverick and I were almost out of breath by the time we had him propped up in that fucking chair. As I stood there looking down at Phillips, I had my doubts we’d be able to get anything out of him. The guy was still pretty out of it, more than likely from shock, and with the way he was bleeding, it looked like he was on his last leg. I could tell by Cotton’s expression he was thinking the same thing, but neither of us said a word. Instead, we just stood there and watched silently as Stitch took a large Chef’s knife over to the gas stove. He turned on the burner, then held the blade over the flame for several minutes. Stitch glanced over to Maverick as he ordered, “Get that rag and apply pressure to the wounds.”
Maverick quickly grabbed the dirty towel off the counter and pressed it firmly against Phillips’ chest, causing him to groan out in agony. I didn’t feel the least bit sorry for the guy. As far as I was concerned, he’d brought this on himself the second he took Lauren. Stitch held the knife over the flame for a few moments longer, then said, “Pull his shirt back.”
Without any hesitation, Maverick removed the towel from the wounds and yanked back Phillips’ shirt. I held my breath and watched as Stitch carried the knife over to Phillips. I knew what was coming, and I had no doubt he was about to be in a world of hurt. Stitch pressed the blistering-hot knife against the asshole’s flesh, cauterizing the first bullet wound, and Phillips nearly came unglued. “Oh, fuck! Jesus Christ Almighty! What the hell!”
Continuing with his stream of curses, Phillips lunged out of the chair and nearly fell flat on his face. It happened so fast I didn’t have time to think about what I was witnessing. Maverick and I both sprang into action and jerked the asshole back into the chair. Maverick glared over to me as he ordered, “Hold him down.”
More groans and whimpers slipped through his mouth as Cotton knelt down in front of him. “Where is she? Where’s Lauren?”
“She’s...gone,” Phillips muttered. “He took—”
“What the fuck do you mean ‘she’s gone’?” Cotton roared.
“Let me go. Please, God! Let me go.”
“God isn’t gonna help you now,” Stitch scoffed as he heated the blade for the second time. “You made sure of that the second you took Lauren.”
“You don’t understand.”
Phillips’ eyes rolled to the back of his head, and then he was out again. Enraged, Cotton stood and punched the asshole as he shouted, “Sonofabitch!”
“I’ve got him, Prez.” Stitch walked over and pressed the hot blade against his chest once again. My entire body tensed as his eyes flew open, and he bellowed out in agony. I’d seen shit like that in the movies but never anything like it close up. It seemed so surreal like it wasn’t happening, but then the smell of burning flesh brought me back to reality. I felt my gag reflexes kicking in, and I had to fight the urge to get sick. Seemingly unfazed by the pain he was inflicting, Stitch returned to the gas stove and placed the blade of the knife under the flame. His voice was cool and steady as he warned, “You move again, and you’ll regret it.”
“I’m sorry.” Phillips pulled and tugged, doing everything he could to break free from Maverick and my hold. “You gotta let me go, please. You don’t understand.”
When Stitch saw that Phillips hadn’t listened to his warning, he laid down the knife directly on the flame, then turned and walked out of the kitchen. Realizing he was leaving, Q asked, “Hey, where ya going?”
“I’ll be right there. Gotta get something out of the truck.”
“Need a hand?”
“No, I got it.”
I glanced over at Cotton, and it looked like he was ready to blow. His face was red, and he was glaring at Phillips like he was about to kill him, but he didn’t say a word. He trusted Stitch to handle the situation, and I was trying my damnedest to do the same, but it wasn’t easy. I just wanted Phillips to talk and tell us who had taken Lauren. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a say in the matter, so I kept my mouth shut and just kept holding Phillips down. He was still fighting to break free when Stitch returned to the kitchen with a roll of barbed wire. As soon as Stitch started to undo the wire, Phillips cried, “What are you gonna do with that?”
“I told you to fucking hold still.” Stitch started wrapping the wire around his wrist and the arm of the chair, securing him in place. “You didn’t listen, so try to move now and see how it fucking feels.”
“You’re wasting time with this shit.” Phillips sobbed as he watched Stitch wrap his other wrist. “Please, just let me fucking die.”
“Not gonna happen.” Cotton stepped over to him. “Stitch is gonna finish cauterizing those wounds so you don’t fucking bleed out before you tell us what happened to Lauren.”
“You’re too late,” Phillips groaned. “He already took her.”
“Who took her?”
“I didn’t want it to play out like this. I really didn’t.” Phillips dropped his head and started crying like a fucking baby. “If she’d just told me ... then I could’ve gotten her out of here before they came.”
“Who came?” Cotton shouted. “Who fucking took my daughter?”
When he didn’t immediately answer, Cotton went over and took the knife off the stove and placed it on Phillips’s back, sealing the exit wound of the first bullet. Phillips jerked upwards, causing the barbed wire to dig into his flesh. He immediately settled back in his seat and started trembling. Between the bullet wounds and Stitch burning him with that fucking knife, he was struggling to maintain consciousness.
Cotton stepped back, giving him a minute to collect himself. After several panted breaths, Phillips finally answered, “Demarco.”
“Robert Demarco?”
“Yeah, he’s the one.” His short, raspy breaths continued as he told Cotton, “She’s got something ... that belongs to...him, and he…came here...t-to get it back.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“His log. She has it, and Demarco wants it back.”
Q looked just as confused as I was when he asked, “What log?”
“It doesn’t matter.” His words dripped with anguish. “All that matters is the fact that Damarco is crazy. He won’t stop until he gets what he wants.
I thought if I brought Lauren here, I could get the log and make things right. I was trying to protect her.”
“Protect her!” Cotton roared. “Are you fucking kidding me? Because of you, she’s in the hands of that fucking lunatic, and there’s no telling what he’ll do to her!”
“It’s not my fault! If she’d just left the damn book in Collin’s backpack, none of this would’ve happened.”
“We don’t have time for this shit!” Cotton snarled. “Where’s Lauren? Where’d he take her?”
“I don’t know, man.” His breathing slowed as he explained, “I told him about the log being in her desk at school, so he’ll want to go there. It would be risky to go to a school at this time of night, but he’s not afraid to take risks.”
“Damn,” Q complained. “You’re talking in fucking circles, man.”
“I don’t know what to tell ya. He’ll either have her at the school or he’ll take her back to his warehouse in Port Angeles.”
“Okay, tell me about this warehouse.”
“Not much to it. Just an old commercial building with an office. He’s got a couple of guys who watch over the place and lots of security cameras. It’ll be hard to get in there without him knowing you�
�re coming.” He thought for a moment, then said, “But there might be a way.”
“I’m waiting.”
“The power is always glitching down there. He’s been bitching about it for months.”
He accidently moved and groaned when the barbed wire dug into his flesh, making him lose his train of thought. It didn’t matter. Cotton already had the information he needed. He looked over to Stitch as he said, “I’m gonna call the guys and have them meet us over at the school. If we don’t see them there, we’ll head over to the warehouse. We just need to figure out what we’re gonna do with him.”
“We take him with us.” Stitch glanced over at Phillips. “That way, we’ll have him close if we need him.”
“Time’s a wasting.” Cotton motioned his head towards the door. “Load him up, and let’s get the hell out of here.”
As Maverick and I helped Stitch unravel the barbed wire from Phillips’s wrists, Cotton made the call to Big, letting them know to meet us over at the school. I was eavesdropping on the conversation when I happened to glance down at the mess on the floor. I could only imagine what someone would’ve thought if they came in and saw Phillips’s blood all over the place, so I motioned my hand at the mess and asked, “What are we gonna do about all this? Should we try cleaning it or something? You know, in case someone ends up coming over here?”
Q was quick to answer, “Don’t have to worry about that. We’ll get a couple of the prospects to take care of it.”
I nodded, then turned my attention back to moving Phillips. He was too weak to put up any kind of fight as we lifted him up and led him out of the house. Cotton followed us over to the truck and opened the rear hatch. Without bothering to tie him up, we shoved him in the back of the SUV and closed the trunk. Once Q and Maverick had gotten inside the SUV with Stitch, Cotton came over to me and said, “You know, son, things are about to get intense here. No one would blame you if you wanted to back out. You could go home and wait for us.”
“Not chance. I’m not leaving your side until I know Lauren is safe.”
“I kind of figured you were going to say that. I really wish you’d reconsider.” The pained expression on his face tugged at me. “’Cause, son, in our world, a man never truly knows what’ll come first. The bullet that brings his life to an end or his chance to find vindication. It’s that sense of unknowing that’ll either break a man or give him the strength to push even harder. For me, it has always been the latter, but now, knowing it’s my daughter’s life that’s on the line, it might just fucking break me.”
“We’re gonna be here to make sure that doesn’t happen.” I meant it when I said, “We’re gonna get her back. We have to.”
Cotton nodded, and then we both got in the SUV with the others. Seconds later, we were on the way to the school. We hadn’t been riding long when I found myself glancing over at Stitch. I thought about how he’d handled Phillips, and while it was fucking brutal, he never lost his cool. He had a job to do, and he did it. The same was true with Cotton, Q, and Maverick. They charged into Phillips’ house with their guns drawn like they’d done it a million times. None of them seemed frightened or concerned about whatever it was waiting for them inside. I, on the other hand, had been completely terrified. I had no idea what might happen, and I couldn’t help but think the worst.
While I was concerned about getting shot or jumped and overtaken by a gang of men twice my size, it was the fear of losing Lauren that got to me the most. That fear was what had me ignoring the danger and pressing forward, just as we were doing now.
We had to find her—no matter what the cost.
Chapter 14
Lauren
“What happened to Mr. Phillips?”
“I believe you know exactly what happened to him.” When Demarco continued into the garage, two burly brutes followed after him. All three looked at me like they were about to rip me limb from limb. Demarco’s eyes were filled with rage as he warned, “If you’re not careful, I’ll do the same to you.”
Demarco motioned his head at the two goons beside him, and I barely had time to think before they were both on me. They each took hold of an arm and forced me to stand in place as Demarco meandered over to me. He reached up, wrapped his fingers under my jaw, and forced me to look at him as he snarled, “You’re going to give me what’s mine, or I’m going to start pulling those pretty little teeth right out of your mouth. You get me?”
Too terrified to say anything else, I mumbled, “Um-hmm.”
“The journal.” Demarco still had a hold of my face. “Donnie boy said it was in your desk.”
“Yes, sir. It’s in my desk at school.”
An aggravated growl vibrated through his thick chest. He clenched his fists at his sides. “Which school?”
“Um ... uh, Caldwell Elementary.” It was clear from the way he glared at me that he wasn’t pleased his journal was at my school, which only made me more nervous. “The one on Fairbanks.”
“Fine.” He released his hold on my face as he said, “Then, we will go to Fairbanks.”
When Demarco turned and started out of the garage, his goons followed, carrying me along with them. They didn’t bother restraining me. Hell, they didn’t have to. I was no match for the three of them. I had no choice but to do as they said. Without saying a word, I got in the back of the black SUV and waited as they got in alongside me. I tried to put on a brave front as Demarco’s driver backed out of the driveway and started towards town, but I was absolutely terrified. I knew my time was running out, and it was running out fast. I had to do something, so Dad and the brothers could have a chance to save me.
Hoping I could buy some time, I inhaled a deep breath and said, “I don’t think going to the school right now is the best idea.”
“I didn’t ask you for your opinion.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that it’s a bad idea,” I replied timidly.
“Okay, then enlighten me,” Demarco snarled. “Why wait even a minute to get what’s mine?”
“The school has a motion sensor alarm. Any movement at all, and it will go off. And there are cameras everywhere—in the parking lots, and at every entrance and hallway.” Demarco hadn’t cut me off yet, so I continued, “I’m a new teacher. I don’t have the code to the system or a way into the building that won’t set off the alarms.”
Clearly disturbed by what I’d just told him, Demarco crossed his arms and let out a long, aggravated breath. He was considering everything I’d said when his driver turned to him. “She’s right, boss. All the schools have cracked down on security. Would be damn near impossible to get in there without setting off an alarm.”
“Shut your fucking mouth, and let me think!”
Men like Demarco were resourceful. He didn’t need me. He could just kill me and find someone else to get his stupid journal. I didn’t want the idea to cross his mind, so I took a chance and said, “No one knows that I put the journal in my desk. It’s safe there.”
“What’s your point?”
“I could go first thing in the morning. The custodians are always there early. I could slip in and get it without any of them being suspicious.”
“That could work.” The driver turned his attention back to Demarco. “We could be in and out, and no one will ever be the wiser.”
“Fine, we’ll wait till morning, but not a second longer.”
The driver nodded, then turned the SUV around. I had no idea where we were headed, but I was relieved to know I’d bought myself and the brothers a little time. I just prayed it was enough.
I remained completely silent when the driver leaned over to Demarco and asked, “Are we still going to try to make that delivery tomorrow afternoon?”
“We can’t afford not to.” Demarco turned his head slightly, just enough to catch a glimpse of me, then whispered, “Got a lot of money riding on this particular shipment. Not very often we have an ‘untouched’ like we do with this one.”
There was something very familiar a
bout the wording Demarco used. I had no idea what it was, but hearing the way he spoke brought bile to the back of my throat. The sick feeling only grew more intense when the driver motioned his head back in my direction and said, “You could always add another to the mix.”
“Not a bad idea.”
“Now that Phillips is out of the picture, we’ll have to get the others ourselves. I can go over in the morning after we deal with her.”
“Good. I’ll send Carlos along to give you a hand.”
While I had no idea what they were really talking about, I knew it was bad, and now, it would include me. The thought petrified me, but I wasn’t just scared, I was also angry—very, very angry. I’d been kidnapped, not once but twice, and my life was in jeopardy over some stupid journal that I was trying to give back to its rightful owner. The whole scenario was absolutely ridiculous, but it was happening, nonetheless.
After a fifteen-minute drive, we pulled into the docks at Port Angeles. It was easy to see why Demarco had made such a huge investment in the area. The place was booming, and rightly so. It was directly in between the Pacific Ocean and Puget Sound, which was why they had three industrial terminals along with the brand-new Marine Trades Industrial Park. The driver pulled onto a gravel road that led up to one of the new warehouses. Once he’d parked, one of Demarco’s goons opened his door and got out. Without saying a word, he reached over and grabbed hold of my arm, tugging me out of the vehicle.
As soon as I was on my feet, he jerked me forward and forced me to stumble up to the metal building. He took out his keys, and as soon as he had the door open, he looked over to me and snapped, “Move it.”
I didn’t argue. I simply stepped through the doorway and into the warehouse. To my surprise, the place was empty. I had no idea where I was supposed to go, so I stopped and waited until Mr. Friendly pointed me in the right direction. When he didn’t immediately say something, I used the moment to look around. There were two docking gates for moving cargo, which were clearly never used, and a large office with another sizable room attached at its side. Various monitors dotted the walls along with cameras at every corner—inside and out. I had no idea what Demarco used this place for, but it wasn’t for shipping any typical goods. I was still trying to make sense of my surroundings when I heard Demarco enter the warehouse. “Take her to the room and lock her in there until morning.”
