by Jax Hart
I shuffle into the shower then crawl back into my mattress of a bed. I drift off to sleep, pretending Johnny’s strong arms wrap around me. I might’ve been playing a role, but in the dark and under the sheets—everything I felt was 100 percent real.
“Wakeup.” A hand gently shakes me on the shoulder. “Johnny?” I breathe, snuggling deeper under the thin blankets. I roll over, putting my arms around him. But he tenses. Freezes. Of course, because he hates me.
“Wake up.” The hand shakes me harder. Blinking in the dark, I make out my captor’s handsome face. Well what I can see of it behind his sexy caveman slash lumberjack beard.
“Put this on.” He hands me a sweatshirt and a pair of womens sneakers. My heart picks up speed. Is he helping me escape? Is this my chance? But my hopes are dashed as I notice the other items he has in his hands.
“I’m not into that,” I try to tease, nodding to the blindfold, rope, and zip ties in his hands. Maybe he isn’t here to save me but to end me. Nervous, I scoot back not wanting to leave the basement anymore.
“Relax. I’m taking you outside like you wanted. Fresh air is good for the soul.”
I hesitate but let him put the blind on me. He gently places my foot in each sneaker and ties the laces. Then he takes my hand in his strong one and finally, I’m led out of the room that’s been my home for months. “Careful now. We are heading up some stairs.”
In my head I count fifteen to the top. He turns me left, then straight, then right and I almost stumble as a door opens and I’m… outside?
“Ah.” I breathe in deeply. It must be night. The smell of burning logs, leaves and dew surrounds me. The last time he brought me out the air smelled of cigarettes and summer nights. But he won’t let me take my blind off, instead he tells me we need to walk. I grip his hand tight, afraid again of where we might be going. Finally, he tells me to stop. I feel his hands untying the knot behind my head and then there’s nothing but stars. A million of them. I don’t know where I am, but I’ve never seen a night sky quite like this. The sky is indigo velvet and the stars flawless diamonds lounging in the folds. I’m so overjoyed by the beauty of the moment, tears well in my eyes. “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely. “Please, could you cut my hands free?”
He grunts but takes a knife from his boot and slices through the zip ties at my wrists. “Don’t try anything stupid, girl.”
I rub my wrists. “I almost feel free. Almost. The air is so clean… I’ve never seen so many stars before. We must be far from a city.” I frown, realizing the clearing he brought me to is surrounded by evergreen trees as thick and tall as ones described in a fairy tale. “Where are we?” I breathe, knowing he won’t answer. An owl hoots from somewhere above our heads.
“I couldn’t take you out during daylight. Your eyes haven’t seen sun in too long. The night is closer to the dim light of the cellar.”
“Will I have permanent eye damage?”
“Nah, that’s why I got you that UV light. People in Alaska use it during their dark winter to remind them of summer light.”
“Summer. I missed that, didn’t I? It’s my favorite season. My brother, Jack, he had a forty-foot sport fishing boat. Sometimes we’d moor offshore of East Hampton Bay. Eat Lobsters and drink beer. Play cards and swim at midnight. I smelled of the ocean and had salt in my hair, but I never cared…”
I swallow hard, thinking of Jack and summer days that I’d never live again. Not unless somehow, I get free. I turn to him, loving the feel of the night wind in my hair. A few strands blow in front of my face, the dark chocolate strands longer than they’ve ever been. “You’re a good man. I feel it in my bones. Please let me go. My brother’s been mourning me. I’m all he has left. I-I want to feel the sun on my face, have the chance to be a mother… get married…” I paint a picture of a life a woman like me should have the right to live, trying to appeal to him. “Surely you understand, you wear a ring…,”
His face darkens. “You see what you want to see. What makes you think I’m a good man? I’ve kept you a prisoner here for someone else’s revenge. The world isn’t painted in black and white, little FBI. I live in the gray.”
“But you’d never hurt me.”
“I’ve killed. Buried bodies under the moonlight. Done the hardest drugs money can buy. I don’t do that shit anymore but I carry it all with me. You saw what you wanted to see; sometimes bad people are good and good people bad. You betrayed the wrong man, little FBI. You’re lucky they didn’t order me to bury you where I’ve buried so many.”
His words turn over in my mind. “If it comes to that. Promise me something…?”
His sharp blue eyes land on my upturned face. This man is gorgeous. A gorgeous honest monster and yet I don’t see him as anything but good. It emanates from the gentle kindness in how he’s always spoke to me. “I can’t promise you anything but that no one will ever hurt you the way a man can hurt a woman.”
“Ah, so you do have somebody. Or did. A woman you’d die for.” He breathes out hard, clenching his fists. Not willing to speak about his heart or the fact that it’s wrapped in a band of platinum around his ring finger. “If the day ever comes when you’re ordered to dispose of me, bury me on a night like this… in a place like this…”
“No. If the day ever comes when they tell me to do that, I’ll send you to my brothers in the Royal Bastards. They’ll keep you safe. Hidden.”
“The Royal Bastards? Who are they?”
His lips smirk. “Ever watch Sons? The RBMC are the biggest international MC in the world. Their connections are deep. Even the Salvatore would think twice before starting that war.”
“Send me there now?”
He shakes his head. “I couldn’t guarantee your safety. A pretty, young thing like you? Some hot-head would want to make you his ol’ lady. Little FBI and all…”
I shudder. “I need a break from men. From romance… Maybe permanently.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Is he…,” I swallow hard. “Alive? Or did Roque order a hit?”
“It’s time to go,” He answers gruffly.
“Please. Just a few minutes more?”
“It’s getting cold.”
“The cold is all I know now…the stars—I need to make a wish.”
“You need more than a wish and a prayer to get out of the mess your in.”
“He’s not a good man.”
“You sure about that? From what I know, he treated you like his queen. He and Roque took a trip to the diamond district in New York before shit went sideways. Heard he bought the biggest diamond they had… for you…”
“I could never be with him.”
“He could never be with you. I would never be with a woman who betrayed me. You took a bad gamble and lost girl.”
“So what? Is this my new life now? To be kept in your cellar?”
“At least he gave you a life. Let you keep it.”
“Johnny lives?”
“It was Roque’s decision.” And with that he puts another set of zip ties around my wrists. The blind fold is next, and all the stars are gone. This is my fate, my new lifetime sentence. I’m not enraged though, after all I knew the risk—the possibility of what would happen to me if I failed. Double-crossing a mafia Don was just plain stupid. I crossed two. Roque Salvatore would relish spilling my blood. Which is why I’m so puzzled that someone chose to let me live. But I’ve never been one to cower or back down from a fight. I guess my life underground is better than having none.
24
Johnny
Two weeks later…
“Would you calm down? You’re bouncing so much—my notebook keeps moving.”
My knee is bouncing. I’ve got three pieces of extra Bubble Chew inside my cheek and the nerve above my left eye is twitchy. “What? Am I ruining your mojo? Ruining your next kiddie plot? Spoiler alert, the prince is a douche. No—a cock-blocking little prick of a douche.”
The bastard smirks. If he wasn’t my best friend, he�
��d be skewered to a pole, naked while wild animals feast on him.
“Jealous of my success?”
“Please,” I snort. “No one is terrified of you now. You’ve made a mockery of our livelihood. Who ever heard of a savage poet for a Don?”
“Don’t mock me, John-John. It’d be a mistake to underestimate me.” Both my knees bounce. My heart feels like a wild rabbit that just got sprung from its cage. Not because of Roque but because of Christine. “Her family still thinks she’s dead. Not a trace of DNA or an article of her clothing was ever found. That bastard brother never stops trying to find a clue though. I’ve handled him. Got him put on a case in Libya so he can’t snoop around in the states.”
“Good. Let it stay that way. She’s mine for the rest of her life, anyway.”
He smirks. “You know there is a way out… put a ring on it. Worked for me. She can’t testify against you.”
“Well, jackass, you were the one who hid her in a cellar. Not me.”
His pen finally pauses from the paper. “I’m not going down for your toy, Johnny. I spared her life for you. That’s it. If you fuck this up again—"
“I won’t. I don’t love her anymore.”
He studies me for a minute before resuming whatever bullshit he is putting down in ink. Sensing my disdain, he speaks without taking his eyes off his words, “It’s a poem for my wife.”
“Totally pussy whipped,” I reply, with a snort while tipping my head toward the window.
“Like you won’t be as soon as you see her. Maybe this was a bad idea. I’ll text Rog to call it off.”
“Don’t you dare. You’ve cock-blocked me long enough.”
“Please. You cock-blocked yourself. Why did you wait so long? Scared she won’t want you anymore?” He taunts, knowing that’s exactly why but I play it off.
My lips tip up. “I might not be as smart as you. Or as polished. I’m rough as shit but the one thing I definitely know how to do is lay it down. Ask your ex, Julietta. Remember how she screamed for me?”
“I’d rather not remember.”
“One look at my cock and Christine is gonna be begging for it. Especially since you’ve had her hidden for so long. No one touched her?”
“No. We don’t do that shit. Rog kept her fed. Well fed. Who knows, she might be a porker by now.”
“I never minded a little cushion for the pushin’.”
He shakes his head at me. “Red was right. You’ve got the maturity of a fifteen-year old.”
“She said that shit about me?” It’s no secret that his lady and I butt heads. Mostly because we fight over him. Roque’s been my right-hand man as much as I’ve been his. When he hooked up with Ro again, I felt like an abandoned dog.
“Why are you coming anyway? You wanna watch?”
“I have business in Springdale. I own the Inn there, remember? Besides, I know the real reason you stayed away. You didn’t trust yourself. You wanted to punish her as much as you wanted to fuck her. You needed time to cool off.”
“Book us a couples massage. I’m blaming you for this shit. So, I can swoop in like a hero… Actually, yeah, let’s stage this shit. I’m gonna kick the door in, tie Rog up and make it look like I’ve finally found her. I’m gonna Stockholm Syndrome the shit outta this situation… yeah, you are right. I had some dark nights when I believed ending her would end this never-ending torment for her that runs through my blood.”
“You dumbass. Stockholm Syndrome is when a person falls in love with their captor. Not the other way around.”
“I know… you didn’t let me finish. I’m gonna ‘rescue’ Christine only to take her as my captive, in your Inn. You owe me.”
“I saved your ass and hers.”
“So? I’ve got some serious blue balls for her Roque. Ever since you told me she lives, I’ve been celibate. I haven’t even stuck my dick in a woman’s mouth.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’ll call Sally, my innkeeper. Don’t piss her off. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Adrenalin races through me as I remember Christine. I’ve fucked plenty of women but the way that girl did it for me… I just can’t explain. Pure animalistic chemistry is the closest thing I can think of to describe what it was like between us. At least I hope it was for her, too. I mean the girl did rat me to the Feds after I laid it down on the regular…The back of my neck starts to sweat. My foot is shaking as my knees bounce. I jerk my head to the side, cracking my neck.
“What?” I challenge Roque with my best voodoo hitman eyes.
“Need a Xanax?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“I was joking.”
“You never joke.”
“I do now. Blame it on the women in my life.”
“That’s okay. I left a stash on your plane.”
“Did you leave anything else? The Feds still do random searches. They still can’t let Savage Poet go. They know it was all bullshit.”
“I have some E, Oxy and a little blow.” Now Roque’s eye twitches. “What? I have enough to share. Ever since Red came back you’ve had a real stick up that ass.” Oh shit. Now I’ve done it. Both this eyes twitch and now his knee bounces. “Dude. You should see yourself right now.”
He drops his journal. I slap the pen from his hand. And we go at it like two jerkoffs. Mostly play fighting like we used to when we were frat boys.
25
Johnny
“Do I need to go over the plan again?”
Rog lifts his brows. “My wife is gonna have my ass if she ever finds out about this…”
“Take it up with him,” I nod over to Roque.
“Ya’ shittin’ me? My wife is his biggest fan.”
“What can I say? The ladies love me.”
I duck under the bar to smooth my hair and check my teeth. I’m not handsome or smooth like Roque. I have tiny, jagged scars on my face telling my story of growing up street. My nose is a bit big. My jaw is square. I’m not handsome or look like some slick movie star but I’ve never struggled when it came to getting the ladies. Maybe it was my rep of being thug or the power I had, but I simply think I was good in bed. I have a big tool and I knew how to lay pipe. The ladies always came back for more, but Christine was the one who I wanted to give more to than just a good time between the sheets. After she betrayed me it hurt so bad, I took my own blade and slashed the tip across my chest. I wanted a scar I could actually see to remind my dumbass not to fall for love again. I should just kill her and end it. But I can’t. I’ve been in a funk thinking she was dead. Now that I know she lives; my traitorous heart is excited again. I need to get her out. Exile her pert little ass from my soul. I gotta purge the girl from my system somehow. If I don’t, I’m royally fucked.
I unload the clip from my gun, filling it with blanks. Rog and Roque are wearing bullet-proof vests under their clothes just in case. “Let’s do this shit,” I tell them as I rack my new clip.
“This is gonna be great in the sequel to Savage Poet.”
“You and your damn books again.” I shake my head.
“I want my character to have a bigger role,” Rog drawls. “Maybe a couple of chapters?”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
“But make sure you tell Dev it’s all fiction. Yeah?”
Roque smiles. “Pure fiction. Just like I told the Feds.”
“Are you done being in love with yourself?” I pop my shoulder. My girl is below with no idea I’m about to stage a fake rescue. Her hell living in the basement of a bar run by an MC might be coming to an end…but she’s going be mine to torture however I deem fit.
“I’m going down to give her breakfast. You are gonna ‘sneak’ up on me from behind with rope. We’ll struggle. Make it look legit. Roque will run down to see what is going down; then you pop him with the fake rounds and rescue your ‘queen’ only to hold her hostage in a five-star resort. I think I got it down?”
I nod. Then turn to Roque. “I can’t wait to empty a clip into your cock
y-egotistical ass.”
“Bring it,” he smirks. “You know I only did this because your family. If it were anyone else, she would have been taken care of.”
“I know. But I’m still pissed. If there’s a scratch on her—"
“Yeah, yeah,” he rolls his eyes. “You protecting the woman who almost brought down my entire Syndicate exposing the connection between me and Creed MC and who singlehandedly was responsible for your own family putting a hit on you is almost adorable John-John.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I’m pumping you with two clips Salvatore.”
“Bring it, ass wipe.”
I lift my gun firing an empty round in the air just for sound effects then kick open the backdoor to Rog’s bar for more theatrics. He’s retired Creed MC but just like the mob once you’re in an MC you’re in for life no matter how you try to spin it. Or reinvent yourself. I can’t believe anyone actually believes the giant man is just a bar owner.
“Where is she?” I bellow, knocking empty chairs and flipping tables over just to make Christine really think I’m tearing Rog’s bar apart looking for her.
Rog grins like a mother fucker as he beckons me to take a swing. “Just to make it look real, right?” I hiss.
I hit him with a right hook just under his left eye. Not hard enough to really hurt but the rings on my knuckles cut up his flesh. Then, I fire a few rounds in the ceiling.
He growls as lights pop. “My wife is gonna have my ass.”
“Not my problem.”
I’m going for the trap door Roque told me about. Unrolling a shitty rug, I find it and pop that bitch open. It smells a bit dank. Like old beer and dust. It’s wet, dark and I practically taste her fear in the air as I descend the wooden steps.
