“Right,” I nodded.
“So, what are you saying?” Libby said, her eyes widening.
“Nothing,” I said quickly, shooting a look at Slade. Maybe she was going to kill us eventually, Slade’s point wasn’t lost on me, but we didn’t need to alarm the girl.
He took the hint, shaking his head and turning on his heel, resuming his pacing with a fervor.
I took a deep breath, watching Libby. The truth was slowly dawning on her, despite my efforts to protect her. The sudden need to distract her from her own thoughts was overwhelming.
“So what kind of art are you studying?” I asked.
“I’m a sculptor. Clay. Marble. I dabble in metals occasionally. But my heart’s in the clay.”
“Cool,” I nodded, my eyes shooting down to her small hands, her fingers long and thin. I imagined them sliding over the wet clay, slowly forming a shapeless lump into a work of art, her vision coming into focus like magic.
“What about you?” she asked.
“What?”
“Are you an artist?”
I scoffed, chuckling.
“Me?” I replied. “In a way, I guess I’m an artist at staying alive.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” I said, shaking my head with a small smile. “Never mind.”
“It means he’s got a fucking bullet in his chest and if he gets too excited, he’ll explode,” Slade blurted out.
“What?” Libby asked, her eyes wide.
“That’s a little extreme,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s exaggerating.”
“Do you really have a bullet in your chest?”
“Yeah,” I shrugged.
She nodded slowly, “Now I understand the name.”
“Right.”
Slade kept pacing, his mind most likely moving at ten times the speed of his feet.
“So, did she drug you, too?” Slade asked Libby.
“No, unfortunately, I walked willingly into her trap. No drugs necessary.”
“How so?”
“I was at her opening and at the end of the evening, Zane came up to me and told me Mona wanted to meet me. I was star-struck, like a stupid kid. I went with him. I thought I was going to meet her in the back of the gallery or something, but he took me to a limo outside. Mona was waiting inside and as I sat in the back talking to her, Zane drove off. I didn’t protest, I was just happy to be in her presence.” Her voice trailed off and her eyes filled with tears. “God, I’m so stupid.”
“No, you aren’t,” I said.
“Well, you kind of are, yeah,” Slade said.
“Slade!” I growled.
“Well, shit, surely she knows she shouldn’t get in cars with people she doesn’t fucking know?”
“He’s right,” Libby said, her voice quivering. “My mother drilled it into my head. I should have known better.”
“Sorry,” Slade said, a flash of regret registering on his face.
“It’s okay,” she shrugged. “I’ve been beating myself up for it this whole time.”
“So what happened? She brought you here immediately?”
“No, we drove around the city for hours, talking. She’s very charming. Easy to talk to. I thought I’d made a new friend. I was over the moon,” she shook her head, running a hand through her long hair. “We had a few drinks in the limo and we seemed to be getting along so well. She seemed harmless. I never imagined…”
Her voice broke and she burst into tears, cradling her head in her hands as her shoulders shook. I longed to pull her into my arms. Watching chicks cry has always been brutal for me. I was immediately struck with the urgency to make it stop as fast as possible.
But I didn’t know this girl.
Despite the fact that we were thrown into this very unusual situation together, I still had no right to touch her.
So, I sat there watching her cry, my heart cracking a tiny bit with helplessness. I glanced up at Slade and he looked as helpless as I felt.
“Fuck,” he muttered, pacing away into the kitchen.
Libby lifted her face, the tears falling down her cheeks, turning her green eyes even brighter.
“Sorry,” she muttered, wiping the tears away.
I shook my head, looking at her gently. “It’s okay,” I whispered.
She took a deep breath and continued.
“After a few drinks, she asked me if I wanted to see her secret town. She described it like some sort of utopian Disneyland for artists. How could I say no? I agreed and we were here in less than an hour. She showed me around, lured me into this house to look at a piece she said she was working on down here in the basement. As soon as we got down here, Zane pulled out his gun and they locked me up. Like I said, nobody’s laid a hand on me and they keep feeding me. I count the days by the number of stupid apples. But she won’t answer any questions. In fact, the most she’s said about her plans was just now when she was describing them to you.”
“Right,” Slade said, looking at her with empathy. “This must be really hard on you, Libby. I’m so sorry this is happening. We’re going to do everything in our power to get us out of here, okay? I don’t want you to worry. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Do you really think she meant what she said? She plans on breeding me?”
“That’s sick,” I said, my stomach churning.
“Yeah, it is,” Slade said. “But yeah, it sounds like that’s her plan. Like I said, she won’t make it that far.”
“I hope you’re right,” Libby said.
“I’m Slade,” he replied, lifting his chin, flashing her a crooked smile. “I’m always right.”
She laughed finally, a sparkling bubble of light that lit up her pretty face, leaving me breathless, leaving me reeling with the thought that if I’d met her at another time, another place…a girl like her might be exactly what I needed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LIBBY
They’re sweet. From what I can tell, they seem to be good men. And I can’t deny that since they’d woken up and started talking to me, I felt just a little bit safer than before they arrived.
But, no matter how nice they seem, we are all still imprisoned together in this dirty basement and I honestly see no way out so far.
More than anything, I wanted to throw my confidence in them, believe every word Slade said about getting us out of here. But how the hell was he going to do that?
He might be scary and they might be big guys, but a bullet goes through the flesh with no discrimination when it comes to size. And apparently, Bullet’s already halfway dead or something, so my confidence quickly wanes and I’m left with nothing but a sick sense of dread.
They hadn’t said it outright, but I knew what they were thinking, and they were absolutely right.
These situations never ended well.
If Mona couldn’t use us the way she wanted, she wasn’t going to just let us walk away.
My mind was spinning. I thought of my amazing parents, who must be so worried by now, my best friend, Julia, who was probably riding her bike around every inch of Portland proper looking for me. I thought of school, all the expensive classes I was missing, time I would never be able to make up, especially not in time for graduation next month.
A desperate longing to return to all of that washed over me like a violent wave, crushing my heart in my chest, the pain unlike anything I’d ever felt.
How could this be happening? How can this be real?
I looked over to Slade and Bullet, two huge strong men, looking almost as helpless as I knew I was. I yearned to cling onto hope, to place all my hope on their shoulders, believe every word Slade said about getting us out of here.
But I didn’t.
Deep down, I was afraid.
Afraid of what Mona would do to me. Afraid I’d never get out. Afraid of what my life might become.
“I’m going to lay down,” I said, finally, standing and walking into the bedroom.
Bullet
reached out, his hand grabbing mine as I passed by, a surge of electricity soaring up my arm. I stared down at him in shock.
“Hey,” he whispered, his warm grey eyes staring up into mine.
“Yeah?”
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said. “We’re kind of masters at getting out of situations like this. It’s our job.”
“Like I said to Slade,” I whispered. “I hope you’re right.”
He offered me a small smile of reassurance, but I didn’t have it in me to return it. I walked away feeling a twinge of guilt at my failure.
I felt him watching me as I walked away, his eyes burning into my back. As I laid down on the bed, the warmth in his eyes was like a warm blanket that I wrapped around me.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
RIOT
The tires of my bike hugged the curves of the back roads of Estacada. Trees flew past, the old familiar roads bringing back memories that I’d buried years ago.
Slade and I grew up in the same trailer park, with equally screwed up parents, living equally screwed up lives. We’d both left as soon as we could and hadn’t looked back much, except to occasionally remind ourselves how far we’d come.
There were times back then that neither of us knew where our lives would lead, if we’d ever make anything of ourselves, or if we’d be doomed to repeat the dysfunctional patterns of our parents and grandparents before us.
But, we’d broken the cycle of abuse and poverty, and I was damned proud of that fact. When I thought of those young boys we once were, I felt sad for them. To have done the heavy lifting of pulling out of that was quite an accomplishment, and I tried to never let myself forget.
Things were so different now for both of us.
We had the Gods. Our families. Slade had his son.
Our lives had purpose now.
That’s why none of this makes any sense. Slade isn’t the type to just run off for no reason. He has too much to lose now.
Something’s wrong. Very wrong. I can feel it in my bones and as much as I want to ignore that dreadful feeling and convince myself it ain’t there, I know I can’t let that happen, either.
He’s depending on me.
Whatever's happened, whatever trouble he’s gotten himself into, it’s up to me to get him out of it.
And I’ll never let him down.
Hitting the brakes as I approach our old trailer park, I stop just outside the entrance and turn off my bike. An old black lab ran over, sniffing my knees as I scratched his head.
“Hey, boy,” I whispered, slowly looking around. Ghosts filled my head, the hair on my arms standing up as the memories began flowing through my brain.
My gaze landed on the old run down, dirty trailer I’d grown up in, the ghost of my drunken father shouting as he came stumbling down the broken stairs, his torn, dirty, wife beater falling off one of his shoulders, the sound of my mother’s cries echoing in my brain like the soundtrack of my youth, the vision of myself and Slade hiding in the nearby woods and smoking cigarettes he’d swiped from his Mom’s pack while she slept off her latest bender.
Happiness didn’t live here.
It didn’t live here back then, and by the looks of things, it hadn’t visited much since we’d left.
A small boy came bounding out of the woods and trotted over to me. He was about seven, his tangled blonde hair falling over his eyes, a reluctant half-smile on his face as he stared up at me in awe.
“Hello, son,” I said, offering him a smile.
“Hello,” he said.
“What’s your name?” I asked, instantly feeling a sense of empathy for him, just for living here. Part of me wanted to scoop him up and rescue him right now before anything bad could happen to him.
“Mikey,” he replied, his voice soft and quiet.
“Hi, Mikey,” I said. “I’m Riot.”
“You’re so tall,” he said, his neck wrenched back to look up at me. I knelt down to his level and nodded.
“I am,” I replied. “It’s hard to find jeans.”
He laughed and it made me smile. He pointed to the Gods of Chaos patch on the front of my cut.
“I’ve seen that before,” he said.
“You have? Where?” I asked, my eyes wide. “When?”
“A few days ago,” he said. “Some other guys were wearing the same jacket.”
“How many guys?”
“Two.”
I nodded, my heart filled with a surge of hope.
“Where did you see them?”
“Right here,” he said. “They stopped for a few minutes, then kept going on their bikes.”
“Did you see which way they went, Mikey?”
He pointed down the road behind us and I flashed him a grateful smile.
“Thanks, Mikey, you’ve been a great help,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.
“You’re welcome,” he replied. The dog danced around his feet as he watched me get back on my bike.
“Hey Mikey,” I said, after starting it up.
“Yeah?”
“This won’t be your life forever, buddy,” I said, gesturing behind him. “This place, this life. It won’t last forever. Dream big and don’t give up your dreams for anyone, you hear me?”
He smiled, a smile filled with joy and hope that made my heart swell.
“I hear you,” he whispered, before turning and running back to his trailer, his dog loyally trotting along next to him.
Driving slowly down the winding road, I kept an eye out for any sign of Slade and Bullet. Knowing the boy had seen them had given me a renewed sense of determination. I was at least on the right track.
I drove for miles before I came upon a group of buildings that I vaguely remembered from years ago. Slade and I would sometimes come up here to drink and smoke pot, but mostly to get away from our parents, and I remembered it being just as run down and deserted back then as it looked now. Not much had changed, except for the open sign flashing in one of the buildings at the end of the strip.
“Now, that’s new,” I said, looking around for any other signs of life. Outside of a few cars parked on the street, there wasn’t much evidence of activity. I parked my bike next to them, and left my helmet on the seat as I looked around.
The tiny block of buildings were old, built in what I guessed was the mid to late nineteenth century, with large wooden porches and wide roofs hanging over them. Snuggled against one of the foothills of the towering mountains behind them, they were rundown and falling apart. My boots shuffled against the dirty wood as I walked up to the one open business. The neon PBR sign in the window told me it was most likely a bar, but as soon as I opened up the door, the squeaky hinges crying out and announcing my presence, I saw I was right.
Three men sat at the bar, a cold mug of beer sitting in front of each of them. They turned my way, sizing me up as I walked in. I nodded politely to them, and sat down at the bar. Hank Williams crooned in the background.
The bartender was a large burly guy with huge shoulders and a gun nestled in a holster on his hip. A little too much firepower for such a deserted place, if you asked me.
“Howdy,” he growled, tipping his Seattle Mariners baseball hat at me.
“Hi, there,” I said.
“Get you a drink?” he asked, placing his hand on his gun. The gesture wasn’t lost on me, but I wasn’t easily intimidated.
“Shot of Jack, with a PBR back?”
He nodded and turned away. I looked over at the other patrons, who hadn’t taken their eyes off me since I walked in.
“Gentlemen,” I nodded to them. They nodded back and turned back to their beers. My eyes trailed over the place, taking in the dusty shelves filled with beer paraphernalia and old beer steins. Mirrors lined the wall behind the bar and the taps looked ancient. I was relieved to see the bartender grab a can of beer from a low fridge and place it in front of me with a full shot glass. If he’d pulled a beer from that most likely filthy tap, my guts would have hated me for it later.
> “Thank you,” I said, placing a twenty on the bar. He stood in front of me, watching me.
“What brings you out this way?” He asked.
“Looking for a couple of buddies, actually,” I said.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I replied, taking a drink. “Might have come through a few days ago.”
“Members of your club?” he asked, pointing to my cut.
“Yes, sir,” I said. “They’d have been wearing similar patches. Seen them?”
“Nope,” he replied, shaking his head. “Not at all.”
I nodded, taking another drink.
“That’s too bad,” I said. “So, what’s going on up here? This place has been deserted for as long as I can remember.”
“Just an entrepreneur trying to breathe a little life into the place.”
“Seems like a risky investment. Not much traffic around here.”
He shrugged and walked away. I turned to the other guys.
“You guys come up here a lot?” I asked.
“It’s on my way home,” one of them replied. I nodded.
“Is this as busy as it gets?”
“Pretty much,” another one answered. “What happened to your buddies?”
“Not sure,” I replied. “They’ll turn up.”
“The mountain is a brutal monster, sometimes. Can take you down in a second if you aren’t careful.”
“My buddies are tough, they’ll be okay.”
“Good luck,” he said. I quickly finished my beer in silence, my gut screaming at me that something was wrong. I took another good look around before grabbing my change and standing up.
The bartender nodded goodbye to me.
“Thanks,” I said, heading to the door.
I stepped outside, wondering if Slade and Bullet had been here. Something just didn’t add up and I knew not to ignore these feelings I was having. This is what made me good at my job.
“Where are you, Slade?” I whispered to the air.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I pulled it out, seeing Grace’s name flashing on my screen. I dreaded answering it knowing I had no information to give her.
“Grace?”
“Riot, I think we’ve got a lead,” she said.
CAGED: GODS OF CHAOS (BOOK TEN) (Gods of Chaos MC 10) Page 6
