by Ryan Michele
“Fuckin’ cunt,” he spat at me, then motioned for the brute to follow him, and they stepped into the threshold of the door.
They were talking in low tones, but I tuned them out, needing this brief time without someone breathing down my neck to put into motion what needed to be done.
Wrong Way—I’m so fucking sorry.
31
Wrong Way
Nothing like a seven am wakeup call to Ms. Janey. We waited as long as we could, and it was only so we didn’t make a scene. She lived in a development with several houses on the left and right of her, all able to see exactly what we were doing.
Therefore, we were going with the safer approach.
Crow and I went up to the door, and I knocked.
“What the heavens?” we heard from the other side of the door and heard the turning of locks. It only opened a few inches, and the same woman from the photos at Rocco’s house appeared. “What do you want?” she said quickly.
I was going to take a stab in the dark and hope Hayden brought up my name to her when they had dinner. “I’m Wrong Way. Hayden’s my girl.” The words felt foreign on my tongue for two reasons. One—I never had a girl before, at least one that I’d planned on seeing through. Two—because it felt like treachery against the Ravage MC for even calling her my girl.
Ms. Janey looked me up and down. Lord knew what was going through the woman’s head. But I continued to watch her expressions. Maybe she had Hayden here in hiding. How the hell would I know. The way Hayden talked about her, she was a mother figure. We all knew that mothers did anything for their children, and I had no doubt that Ms. Janey would.
But her eyes showed a hint of surprise and confusion, making me think Hayden wasn’t here. Or she could be a damn fine actress. One never knew.
“My you sure are a big man. Hayden told me about you.” That was a relief, at least. “What do you want this early in the morning?”
“Have you seen Hayden? I went to her place last night and then this morning, and she wasn’t there.”
Alarm registered as her mouth dropped open, and she clutched her chest. “What do you mean? Was Luna there?”
“Yes, ma’am. Heard her barkin’.”
Her lips perched. “Hang on a tick.” She shut the door, and I could hear the chain disconnecting from the door just as it opened again. She had a robe on with fluffy bottoms that had rainbows on them. “Well, get in here.”
She ushered us in, and I nodded at Crow. He’d do as much searching as he could to make sure Hayden wasn’t here. But I didn’t think she was. No way would this woman let us into her home if Hayden was hiding out.
“Do ya want some coffee? I just made a pot,” she said, moving into the kitchen that fed into the living room. The home was small and quaint. Pictures of her and Hayden were all over the walls. It was as if she captured every second she’d known the woman and put them up on the wall to remind herself of each time.
“No thanks. Have you seen or heard from her?”
She poured herself a cup, splashed some creamer in it, and stirred it around, tapping it twice before setting the spoon on the counter. “I talked to her the day before yesterday but haven’t since. Do you think something’s wrong?”
The last thing we needed was for her to call the cops and get them involved. Especially considering the huge hole in Hayden’s wall. If they got in the house and saw that, there would be questions. They may not lead to Ravage, but questions were never good. Flying under the radar was how we’d stayed alive all these years.
“Her car was gone so I’m thinkin’ she went out for somethin’. Does she have a special place to go to and think?”
Her brow raised. “For someone who’s sharin’ a bed with my girl, you don’t know much about her, do you?”
This stung because it was true. I knew her, but the deep, deep stuff, we’d only cracked the surface.
She shook her head. “She thinks all the time. Never stops that one. No, she doesn’t have a place.” Ms. Janey grabbed a landline phone from the wall and started punching numbers, then held up a finger.
Crow came into my peripheral vision, shaking his head.
“Rocco. You call me when you get this.” She hung up the phone then picked it back up, dialing again. “Stormy, know you’re sleepin’. Call me when you get this.” She then hung up the phone, picked it back up, and dialed again. “Hayden Marie, where are you, child? Call me.” She hung up then turned to me.
“Best I can do for right now. I haven’t a clue where the woman would be, but I’ll find her.”
“Will you call me if you hear from her?”
She nodded to a pad of paper sitting on the counter with a pen next to it. I picked it up and jotted down my number.
“Thanks, ma’am.”
“She better be okay,” Ms. Janey warned and our eyes connected. “She’s a good girl.”
That statement punched me in the gut because I couldn’t agree with her. As much as I ached to, I couldn’t because she stole from me, us. That killed.
“Thank you.”
She said nothing else as we left the house, hearing the locks click into place behind us.
“Stormy?” I asked Crow.
“Stormy.” He nodded, and we headed to the van. We really needed to stop at the clubhouse and get our bikes. This confinement was doing nothing to settle the war within me.
32
Hayden
The yawn was loud, and I didn’t intend it to be. Immediately, I looked over to the brute who was now sitting on the floor, back against the wall with a gun in his hand, sound asleep. The man had been snoring for what felt like days.
Every exhale of hearing him sleep, I wanted to throw a knife right into his throat. Fatigue was only helping expedite my losing battle in keeping a grip on my sanity.
I could hear lone footsteps in the house. With a small surge of adrenaline, my body was back on alert. They were my father’s. He decided to come in and out, threatening me each time.
The dried blood on my face showed his anger reaching a boiling point. That was never good. I knew how bad it was growing up. Lord only knew now what it could be. I really didn’t want to find out.
Shaking my head to fend off sleep, I kept going, encrypting as fast as my fingers would move. Coffee would be much appreciated right now, but no way in hell was I asking for shit.
I could feel him before he entered. It was just like when I was a child, terrified he would come in and use me as his punching bag. There was nothing I could do then, and nothing I could do at this moment.
“How much fuckin’ longer?” he growled, but this time he didn’t have his gun out. I could see it, though, in a holster at his side.
I sucked in a deep breath and let it out. “I was able to get into two accounts.”
The hand came fast and furious, my neck snapping with the force. “Two. It’s been fuckin’ hours, and you only have two!” he raged. “I need those accounts, their contacts, contracts for the property, fucking phone numbers, where the fuck they keep the guns! All of it.”
While I had no idea what he was talking about when it came to guns, the other shit was all surface. It made me wonder if my father was working alone on this mission or if he had to answer to a higher power than him.
While I didn’t really know him now, he’d never been a top dog. Like Wrong Way, he was a man with responsibilities. No one fucked with him. It was in his presence. My father, though, he only had brute force and fear on his side. It wasn’t until that first hit or the painful words did you know the man he was.
But I needed time. It was crucial.
My father stormed out of the room and dragged Rocco into the space. His face was beaten, fingers dangling useless. His body had blood from the many marks made by a knife. Probably the knife they took from me.
My heart ached as my father lifted his fist and smashed it into Rocco’s face. He gasped and groaned in pain.
“Stop it!! I’m doing everything you wanted! Just stop!�
��
My father’s smile turned menacing. “You see. I need someone to take it, and since you’re busy, I’ll just do Rocco here.” He gave him two savage kicks to the chest. Rocco probably had some broken ribs.
“Please stop!” I cried out, the tears falling down my face. My father pounced on it.
“Awww, the little cunt is crying. Such a fuckin’ baby. That’s why you left. Couldn’t hack it. Tears ... tears ... tears. You’re worthless!” Spittle hit my face, but I kept my fingers going.
I needed to get this done. Needed to get us the hell out of here. Or at least Rocco. On that, he stomped out of the room, and I heard a door slam hard, rattling the house. Please let that be an outside door. He needed to leave. Really he needed to die, but I was thinking small at first.
“Rocco. Open your eyes!” I yelled out, and my hair was yanked back viciously. Fuck I forgot about the damn brute.
“Bitch, get workin’ or I’ll put a bullet in him.”
With one eye on Rocco, that was what I did. For hours.
“Hay…” My eyes flicked over to Rocco, then to the brute who fell back asleep.
“I’m right here,” I whispered.
“Don’t do it.” His words were broken up like it hurt to move his lips and jaw. My heart broke for him. I wanted to go to him, hold him, get him to a damn hospital. But if I tried to move, the legs of my chair would scrape the hardwood floor and more than likely wake the brute up.
“I have to. They’re going to kill you.”
His head shook as he groaned. “They’re … kill us ...” I only caught about three of the words, but understood what he was saying. To him they were going to kill us both, but I wouldn’t let that happen. No, Rocco wasn’t going to pay the price for being my friend, my family. They were going to kill me, but not Rocco. He would go on and be happy.
One of us was getting out of this forsaken place.
“Shh… I’m workin’ on it. I’ll get you out of here.”
“Not … without … you,” he replied, trying to move to sit up. His pain was fierce, but he was able to do it. I could only see the slits of his eyes.
“I’m gettin’ you out of here. Swear it.”
“Hay…” He cleared his throat, and his words became easier to understand. “Love you. You can’t do what they want you to do.”
I shook my head. “I have no choice. Both options end up with me dead. But you. I can get you out of here.”
“No.”
“Shh...”
“What the fuck?” the brute man said, coming up and grabbing my hair. Rocco started to say something, but I shook my head emphatically. He couldn’t take much more, and brute wouldn’t hurt me too much. He needed me. “Bitch, get to work.” That was what I did.
I’d been awake for forty-eight plus hours straight. If it weren’t for the small clock on the laptop, I wouldn’t even know the time. The numbers, letters, and symbols on the screen blurred. My eyes stung, my fingers ached, and my head pounded in rhythm with my heartbeat. My body felt it all. Fatigue was hitting me hard.
Sitting in my own piss was starting to smell as hunger and thirst were beginning to take a toll. Getting a few gulps of water and a piece of cheese once since I’d been here wasn’t cutting it. But he didn’t care. He wanted me for one thing only, and that was the only thing on his mind.
I kept looking over at Rocco for strength. Even though he was passed out, just seeing him gave me that small boost of energy to keep fighting.
There was only the last bit of code, and I’d be finished.
As soon as I typed the final keys, my father entered the room. He’d been gone for quite a while and was eating a cheeseburger. Fucker. My stomach growled, and he smiled. Yeah, he wasn’t going to let me live through this.
“Done yet?” he asked through a mouthful of burger.
“Yeah. Just one more line and it’ll be done.” My father threw the food down to the ground, and my stomach rumbled again. He was such a pig.
“Show me.”
This I anticipated. Clicking the mouse and opening a new window, the information came flowing on the screen, as much as I could get, was there.
My father clapped his hands. “Well, cunt, you were worth something!”
The flame inside of me burned red hot. “Let Rocco go, and I’ll finish it.”
“It’s right there. I can kill you both and still have it.”
I shook my head. “Without the last bit, everything I found will disappear in cyberspace. Let him go, and I’ll finish it.”
He put the gun to my head. “Finish it, bitch!”
“Let him go.” My voice was calm and steady. During my time here, I’d come to recognize that I wouldn’t be leaving. I understood it and found peace in it. There wasn’t anything to fear once you knew you were going to die.
Now, it was only a matter of time. I would not shed a tear. I would not allow him to have any more power over me than what he already had. He could call me a cunt all he wanted, and it wouldn’t affect me.
I would not go out a pussy. I would fight and when I lost, at least I’d die knowing I did everything I could to save the ones I loved.
“You think you’re so smart.” He turned to two of the brutes in the room. “Get him. I don’t give a fuck what you do, but I want to hear him scream.”
My stomach roiled, but my confidence showed. “Then I won’t do it. Put a bullet in my head. Go for it. But he screams one bit, I’ll make you put a bullet in me.”
“You don’t know who you’re fuckin’ with.”
“And who would that be?” I asked, really wanting to know the answer to it. “You haven’t lived here in years, and now you come back for this? Who are you?”
In the other room, I heard Rocco’s screams. I’m so sorry. It was hard not to flinch or make any movements every time a noise came from the other room.
But I sat there with my arms crossed ,not letting him see the pain he was inflicting. It was a huge gamble, but one I needed to risk.
My father leaned over, getting in my face, our eyes locking. “You fuckin’, cunt. Fine. He’s gone.”
What the fuck? Fifteen minutes was all he lasted. Was he on a time constraint? There were so many questions, but for me they would never be answered. But they would be in time.
He left the room, and out the side window I could see the two assholes putting Rocco in my car. They slapped his face a few times and I saw him shake his head. He didn’t want to leave me, but he had too.
One of the brutes leaned in and said something to Rocco. Whatever it was had him turning over the ignition and slowly leaving. A weight lifted from my shoulders. He was going to be okay. He would be safe. That was all that mattered.
“Now! Do it!” my father said. entering the room, his gun back on me.
Only then did I turn back to the computer and finish up what needed to be done.
A peace fell over me as I pressed the last key.
I turned to my father, looking up at him with fierceness. “It’s done.”
“Good. Now you die.” He held the gun to my temple, the cool metal against my flesh, but I wasn’t done.
“You can’t kill me.”
“The fuck I can’t.” The gun shook as he pressed it in harder.
“You’ll lose it all if you do,” I challenged him.
It was time to see what he was made of. I knew my ending. Did he know his?
“What the fuck do you mean?”
All three of the brutes were now in the room with us. This was going to be the biggest risk of my life. It was literally life or death.
Either way, I was going to die. The options all left me with the same outcome. It was my choice if it was messy or clean.
Fuck clean.
Their blood would be on my hands before my last breath left my body.
That was a vow.
33
Wrong Way
“No. She wouldn’t,” Stormy said with the utmost confidence. “No way in hell she would do it.�
�� We’d explained everything to him. We’d known him for a long time, and he was an honest man. We trusted him.
“It’s what she does for a living,” I informed him as we all sat around the back room of the bar. It was closed off to everyone except us.
His head shook. “Don’t give a fuck what it looks like on the surface. She didn’t steal shit from you.”
“Know she means somethin’ to ya.” Crow stepped in, and Stormy cut in.
“Fuck yeah she does. She’s my kid.” Crow and I exchanged looks, and Stormy sighed. “Not biologically, but in every other sense.”
“Have you heard from her or Rocco? We can’t seem to find him either.”
Stormy rubbed his face. “Last time I talked to him he had a date with a Maggie, I think. Fuck, the man goes through women. But that was a coupla days ago.”
A cell went off, and Stormy grabbed his, looking at the screen. He held it up. It said Hayden calling. Fuck me.
“Where the hell are you?” Stormy answered like only a father would. “Wait. What? Rocco?”
Listening to a one-sided conversation sucked, and when Stormy put his finger in his ear to help him hear, I knew putting it on speaker wasn’t an option.
“Why ain’t you talkin’ right?”
“What?”
“Say it slower,” Stormy ordered, and his eyes were flickering between all of us, then he held his hand up and made a motion as if he was writing. I reached in and handed him a pen. He started to write something on his arm.
“Did you call the cops?”
I shook my head. “No cops.”
Stormy’s gaze pinpointed me to the spot. Not many men could do that, but he did, and I shut up for a moment.
“You need to call 9-1-1.” Stormy lifted the phone from his ear and spoke to us. “It’s bad. Cops and ambulance need to get there. Don’t give a fuck what you gotta do to protect yourselves. My boy needs help, so he’s gonna get it.”
