Fighting for Forever

by J. B. Salsbury

  I feel the steely gray eyes of Gia as her glare bores into me. First thing I did when I got here was ask if she’d talked to Trix. She said she hadn’t, but judging by the look of pity on her face, I’d say she knows things aren’t good between us. Thankfully, Lane showed up before she was able to question me further, but I can see by the way she’s studying me she’s itching for more information.

  A few more beers later, and we’ve managed to play poker without the subject of Trix and me coming up. I threw back more booze than I should’ve, and the game wasn’t holding my attention, so I ended up losing all my money. I’ve never been readier to go home and pass out, hoping I wake up tomorrow with my girl in my arms surrounded by her clean floral scent with her blond and purple-streaked hair tossed across my chest as if this is all just some shitty dream.

  “Think I’m getting a Harley,” Lane says, pulling me from my thoughts.

  “Sweet.” Gia leans in. “What kind?”

  “Fat Boy. Guy I know is sellin’ one.”

  She moans. “Ohh, yeah. Fat Boys are sweet.”

  Lane nods. “You ever ridden one?”

  Rex visibly tenses, but Gia’s too wrapped up in the conversation to notice.

  “No, but I’ve ridden on the back of one. Super smooth ride.”

  Rex clears his throat. “Oh yeah, how smooth?” He tugs on the barbell through his eyebrow so much so that I have to look away, afraid he’s gonna rip the fucking thing from his skin.

  Gia sits back, her face draining of what little color it has. “Rex—”

  “Come on, Gia.” He leans in toward her and something about the way he’s doing it makes me want to jump in between them to protect her. “Why don’t you tell us how fucking smooth that ride is, huh? We wanna know.”

  She shakes her head and drops her gaze. “I’m sorry. I—”

  “Sorry what? That you brought this shit up again?”

  Her chin jerks up to glare at Rex. “Again? You never let me talk about it. Ever! It’s like you brought me home and just expect me to dive right into your life and leave everything that happened back in Denver!”

  “Drop it.” Aggression rolls off Rex in waves that make the hair on my arms stand on end.

  She throws her hands in the air. “See! There you go again!”

  “I’m not talkin’ about this right now,” Rex growls and flicks a rubber band at his wrist.

  “Fuck you! I didn’t do anything wrong, and you treat me like what happened back there is some dirty secret.”

  He fists two hands in his hair, and Lane takes this opportunity to excuse himself to the bathroom. I’d do the same, but feel the need to stay in case these two start really going at it.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  She throws out an arm. “You never want to talk about it. Ever. But guess what? It happened.” She presses her forefingers into her sternum. “We both fucked up, and it happened. I know you want to hate Hatch for what he did, but—”

  I slam my beer bottle against the table, getting both sets of eyes. “What did you say?”

  The tension in Gia’s shoulders dissolves instantly and she blushes. “I’m sorry, Mason. You shouldn’t have to listen—”

  “How the fuck do you know Hatch?”

  Rex’s body instantly goes rigid. His fists ball up tight against the table.

  Gia turns her body toward me. “Wait, how do you know Hatch?”

  We all stare at each other for silent seconds, and the feeling that things just went from really fucking sucky to the worst shit ever hits in atomic levels.

  “He came back for Trix—” Before the ‘ix’ leaves my lips, the table is gone, tossed by Rex across the kitchen to shatter against the concrete island. “Rex, man, talk to me.” My voice is vibrating with rage, fear, fucking full-blown panic at the total loss of control I see in my friend’s eyes.

  “Where is he, Mase?” I hear the question, but I’m stuck staring at Rex whose eyes have gone vacant. “Mason!”

  “How the fuck should I know?”

  Rex pants like an overheated dog, his lips curling back over his teeth. “Call Trix right fucking now. Ask her where he is.”

  “I can’t. She’s not taking my calls. She’s . . . I don’t know, she’s pissed at me and—”

  Gia moves to stand in front of me, her hands on my shoulders, demanding my attention. “What do you mean she’s not taking your calls? When did you see her last?”

  I run a hand through my hair. “Almost a week. It’s weird, everything seemed okay, but shit went down and now I don’t know where she is.”

  “He came back for her, she’s gone, and you don’t know where the fuck she is?” Rex is practically vibrating.

  “Mason . . .” Gia’s bottom lip trembles. “Where could she be?”

  “She went home. I think. I mean . . .” She said good-bye.

  Said she’d never say good-bye, but . . .

  She had to take care of her sister in the mountains.

  Out of town.

  The Majestic Mountains?

  Santos took her home. Said he’d keep her safe.

  Black eye, busted lip, broken ribs.

  Like a blowtorch to my flesh my body heats and breaks out in a sweat.

  “Oh shit, this whole time . . . she’s been trying to tell me.” I set eyes on Gia as I feel the blood drain completely from my head. “He took her.”

  Thirty-five

  Four days earlier…

  Trix

  “What the hell was that all about?” Angel bounces alongside me as we make our way out of Caesars at a quick pace.

  “I don’t know.” I’m only half lying. I do know that Drake is involved in some bad shit, and because Mason is always protecting his little brother, he’s been dragged in by default. What I’m confused about is Hatch’s aggression.

  He’s always been a take-no-bullshit guy, but I’ve never felt unsafe with him. He’s never forced me to do anything against my will, and even after everything that happened between him and Gia, she made it clear he never took away her choices. But tonight was different, and for the first time, I felt genuine fear that he’d hurt me.

  “Sucks we had to leave. I was having fun!” Kayla giggles, still drunk and completely oblivious.

  Santos punches out a quick text, and by the time we exit the casino, our limo is waiting for us. We climb in, and even though I’m now safely inside the luxury car, I’m unable to take a full breath.

  Mason’s still up there, which means anything could be happening. Going by the expression on Drake’s dad’s face, I’d say things are going to get worse before they get better. Mason’s not the type of guy who backs down when challenged. I just hope he doesn’t do anything to wedge himself in deeper with these criminals.

  It’s a semi-quiet ride back to Zeus’s, except for Kayla who sang along with the radio while dancing in her seat. Too drunk to drive, the other girls will get a ride home in the limo while Santos grabs my keys and ushers me to my car.

  “Come on.” He opens the passenger door and I slide in, grateful he’s driving me to Mason’s rather than dropping me at home.

  He pulls out of the lot, and my mind tumbles over everything. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. If I’d just backed off, ignored Hatch when he came back to town, given up on my quest, then Mason and Hatch wouldn’t be out to kill each other.

  The Las Vegas lights streak by my window, and I close my eyes from the sensory overload. My head spins and my heart aches. I just want this all to be over.

  Not sleeping, but somewhere in between, I register that we should’ve been to Mason’s house by now. Wait, how does Santos even know where Mason lives? I blink open my eyes and dread falls heavy in my belly. We’re headed out of Las Vegas.

  Fuck! How did I not see this coming?

  I swallow back the urge to scream and fear looking at the man next to me. The person who has been responsible for protecting all the girls at Zeus’s. The man who has protected me, been my friend,
for nearly four years.

  There’s no use in playing stupid. “How long have you been planning this?” The fearlessness in my voice shocks me.

  He doesn’t answer right away, so I turn to him then and fight the urge to burst into tears. His jaw ticks, and I swear if I didn’t know better I’d think his eyes were glistening.

  “How long?” My heart crushes, and the pain seeps into my limbs.

  He clears his throat. “Not long.”

  I nod and return my gaze to the inky black night. “Hatch?” It doesn’t make any sense. He knows where I live, slept in my house. If he ever wanted to kidnap me, he’s had plenty of opportunities to do it before now.

  “No.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel.

  No? I blink and rake through every possible explanation as to why I’d be an asset to anyone. But rather than come up with an answer, I only settle on one question.

  I turn toward him again. “Why?”

  His lips pull into a thin line. “They have Diane.”

  “What?” My questioning shriek fills the small car. “Who does? Where is she?”

  He shakes his head. “Don’t know.”

  “Santos—”

  “I can’t talk about this with you. Please, just . . .” He shakes his head. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Trix.” A single tear races down his cheek.

  Shit, this is it. “It’s okay. I understand.” And I do. He’s protecting someone he loves. I’d do the same thing. “I’m . . . I’m not mad at you. You did what you had to do.” My last words are spoken on a whisper.

  I need to call someone. 911. Without being too obvious, I walk my fingers toward my clutch that’s between us on the center console. If I could just get to my phone, I might—

  “They took your phone.”

  All the air rushes from my lungs. “Are they going to kill me?”

  “They said no one would get hurt.” There’s doubt in his voice.

  So that’s it. I’m completely at the mercy of God knows who.

  That leaves me with only one thing to do.

  I close my eyes and dip my chin.

  Dear Father in heaven . . . help me.

  “Call him.” Hatch tosses me my cell then pulls a chair up so close his knees touch the bed.

  “Tell me where we are so he can pick me up, and I will.” After a short drive out of town, Santos pulled over to blindfold and handcuff me. He apologized the entire time, and I was done not being mad at him.

  Now I’m furious.

  I would’ve told him as much, but after one last apology, he left me in the car alone until I was joined by someone else. The person didn’t speak, but I could tell by the smell of his cologne it wasn’t Santos. My first response was to be terrified. Santos would kidnap me to save his wife, but he’d never really hurt me. I believed that with every ounce of my being.

  Now that he was gone, I was in trouble.

  And as much as I should sob and beg, I can’t. I’m way too angry for that.

  I throw my phone on the scratchy polyester comforter. My shoulder aches from being handcuffed by one arm to the bed. Blackout curtains and only a single crappy lamp make it impossible to see anything that would identify where I am other than a shitty motel room.

  Hatch growls and shoves my phone back into my hand. “Don’t fuck with me, Trix. You’re lucky you’re still breathin’. Call him now. Break shit off with him. Tell him whatever he needs to hear to know you’re safe but you’re movin’ on.”

  I lean toward him until the muscles in my locked-up arm pull tight. “Fuck you!”

  He jumps from his seat and presses the barrel of his gun to my temple. “You know how easy it would be to end you right here? Wrap your dead body up in this piece of shit bedding? Cost us nothing more than the price of replacing a comforter.”

  I swallow back the urge to cry, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Why are you doing this?” Human trafficking, prostitution, plain ole sick pleasure, all the reasons have filtered through my head, but none of them seem like Hatch.

  How well do you really know him?

  “Tell me why you’re doing this to me.”

  “Pick up the fucking phone.”

  I turn my head so that the barrel is now pressing into my forehead. Eyes fixed to his, I press in, making the gun dig so deep it’s bound to leave a bruise. “Why are you doing this, Hatch?”

  An emotion flashes across his eyes, something akin to fear mixed with regret, but he pushes it back. He reaches into his back pocket, pulls something out, and drops it on my lap.

  I blink down at the small piece of paper. A photograph with a watermark on the back. My pulse throbs in my throat. Is that . . .? I flip it over and slam my lips closed to avoid giving away a gasping response.

  “You’ve been playin’ me.” Hatch punctuates his words with a shove of his gun.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”

  He grabs my chin and jerks my face to his. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You think I’m stupid? Think I don’t see the family resemblance. Shit, Trix.”

  I try to rip my head from his grip, but he won’t let me, so I close my eyes.

  “Lookin’ for information, huh? Gotta say loved the fact that you did that using your mouth and your pussy. No man with a dick n’ balls would pass up that kinda opportunity.”

  He goes on to say more, but his voice fades to static. He recognized Lana. I’d never opened up to him about my personal life, never shared Lana’s story, so seeing her photo shouldn’t have raised any suspicion, unless he knew her.

  My breath catches in my throat. “You were there,” I whisper.

  I can’t look at him, can’t face the man who watched my sister get tortured to death and did nothing to save her.

  “Didn’t touch your sister.”

  Doesn’t matter. Watching it makes him just as guilty.

  “But you were there.” Pain slices through my chest like phantom knives.

  He doesn’t answer. “You share your investigative work with your pretty boy?”

  “Tell me who did it.” The words come out of my mouth but sound nothing like me, more like a woman possessed. My veins pump with the urge to kill as the monster within rages for vindication. “Give me his name!” I lurch toward Hatch, but he steps back. Heat lances through my shoulder and arm as I tug at my restraints. My fingers itch to wrap around his throat and crush his larynx, to feel his life slip away from beneath my hands. A low grumble builds in my chest and escalates to a full-blown roar. “Fucking tell me—” My head jerks to the side, cheek inflamed by the powerful smack of his palm.

  Without permission to do so, a single tear leaks from my eye and the fight seeps from my muscles.

  “Now you know who you’re dealing with.” The weight of my phone presses into my hand. “Call him. Or you’re both dead.”

  It’s morning. But only just barely.

  Light shines through the one corner of the window where the blackout curtains pulled loose from their binding. I roll to my other side, having to go back and forth all night to keep blood circulating through my arm.

  After talking to Mason last night, I finally allowed myself to cry. Telling him the one thing I promised him I’d never say—using the word good-bye—was my only hope at alerting him that something’s wrong. I hope to God he picked up on that.

  I search the space of the small motel room and don’t see Hatch. He came and went a few times last night, but only for minutes here and there. Motorcycle engines roared throughout the night, and it would seem some of the other rooms are occupied by members of his MC. I wonder if they know I’m here. Would they do anything to help me if they did?

  I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the path we took out of town. If only I’d paid closer attention. It seemed we headed south, or southwest? Maybe thirty minutes. I growl in frustration.

  Hatch was smart enough to get rid of all the logos or clues in the room that might give away our location. Even the telephone has been removed. Fuck!


  The sound of a motorcycle engine rumbles and gets louder before it goes quiet. I roll to my side to face the door, nervous about who might walk in and praying it’s Hatch rather than someone from his crew. As sick as it sounds, I’m safer with Hatch than anyone else. Lesser of two evils.

  The door opens and I squint against the light. Hatch props open the door with his foot and kneels down to get something he’d placed on the ground. There’s a tag hanging from the door handle. Do not disturb. A logo. I blink, trying to focus against the bright light.

  Majestic Mountain Inn.

  “Got breakfast.” The door slams, and Hatch moves to the small table to drop a bag and two insulated to-go cups.

  Majestic Mountain Inn. Majestic Mountain Inn. It said Majestic Mountain Inn.

  He turns toward me, his eyes raking up my bare legs to my ass that’s on display from beneath the skin-tight and too-short dress I’ve been in since last night. “You look fuckable all tied up like that.”

  If I had food in my stomach, I would’ve puked. Instead, I flip him off with my chained-up hand.

  He chuckles and comes over to me, pulling a key from his pocket and holding it up for me to see. “You make one more call today, be a good girl, and I’ll let you eat and take a shower. Deal?”

  Phone call! I nod. “Yes.”

  He reaches behind one panel of his cut and pulls out my cell. “That place you work with the kids. Call—”

  “How’d you know about that?” I never talked to him about my volunteer work, did I? It’s the only part of my life that was really and truly me, something I kept to myself.

  He runs a callused finger along my lower lip. “I know everything, Trix.” His lips tighten and he drops his hand. “Call ’em. Tell ’em you’re out of town or taking care of a sick relative. Don’t give a fuck; just do it.” He presses the phone into my palm and then sits at my hip, watching.

  My muscles protest as I push up to lean against the headboard. Nerves tick beneath my skin, and I wish I could do this in privacy. After all, how much can I say with Hatch sitting six inches from my face? With a trembling finger, I dial the Youth Center.

  “LV Youth, this is Sylvia.”