“So go get the fucking drugs. Why are you wasting time here?”
“We need to bring this guy down and I can’t do that alone.”
“You want us to back you up?” Jeffries’ eyes are narrowed on me as he reaches in his pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He taps the bottom, ejecting a cigarette and placing it between his teeth. One of the men reaches forward, lighting it for him and he takes a huge drag. Smoke billowing around him.
“Yeah, fuck, this is going to have to be a team effort. I can’t fight him alone. The only thing I have on my side is that the bastard thinks I’m dead.”
“This is Carter’s problem, not ours. He promised us the drugs and never delivered. Every motherfucking day we go without the goods is a day we ain’t making fucking money.”
“The drugs are yours. You just need to help me get them. You keep all the money. Just think about it for a second. Million-dollar deal, all yours, for free.” I lean forward, holding out my hand and nodding to the pack of cigarettes he’s still holding.
He hands me a cigarette. “Fuck, I don’t know,” he sighs heavily, pushing his hands through his hair and slumping back in his chair. “Brax, you know we don’t get involved at this level. We handle the street dealers. We work hard with the little people bringing in the big money. I’m just not sure we can back you on this.”
I feel the negotiations slipping from my grasp. He ain’t buying it and I’m running out of things to say.
“What are you not sure about?” Tara chimes in. “This is pure fucking profit for you guys. You help Brax, he helps you make a fortune.”
I turn to her, my eyes widening as I give her an unspoken warning.
“Why, you’re quite a sassy little thing aren’t you?” He cocks his head, a small smile stretching across his face as he ogles the fuck out of her. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
“All I know is that Brax deserves the help, and this is a win-win situation for you. My cousin is being a dick about the whole thing, but you guys, I can see how loyal you are.” She leans forward, clasping her hands together between her knees, her tits practically falling out of the top she’s wearing.
“I think you and I should go talk. Somewhere private,” he says, lifting his eyebrows suggestively.
My heart’s pace picks up a little as my annoyance grows. “Listen, Tara is a big girl and I’m sure she would like to take you up on your offer, but right now, we talk business,” I say sternly, bringing the focus back to the real reason we are here.
“Oh, sure.” He smiles at me. “Listen… this is what I’m going to offer you. My son, and five of my men. I’ve been waiting a long time to give him a chance to prove to me he can be a useful part of this family and that he ain’t just some useless pussy.”
I tighten my fist resting it against my mouth. I’m not sure whether the fact he’s offering me his son is a fucking insult or whether I should snap his hand off. I’ve never even heard him speak of his son, but I guess with the promiscuous life he lives he’ll probably have about a dozen.
“Nate,” he bellows, Tara jerking beside me as she is startled by the loudness of his voice. “Where the fuck is he?” he asks angrily, his head whips back and forth as he checks the room.
“His cock is probably buried in some whore.” One guy laughs and the whole gang joins in.
“Go fetch the useless cocksucker,” he demands, reaching forward and stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray on the table in front. I retrieve my lighter from my pocket, lighting up and relaxing back in the chair, thinking through my next move.
“Listen, I don’t want to think you just offered me your weakest hand, but it kinda feels like you did.” I take another drag, blowing out a cloud of smoke to add to the already smoke-filled room. I glance down to Tara and she looks at me with a squint as if questioning me. My attention is caught by Jeffries’ quiet chuckle growing into a loud bellowing laugh.
“What’s wrong, son?” he stutters through his fit of laughter. “Did you think the head of the Savages would hold your hand and save the girl you love?”
I jolt forward as the anger ignites deep inside me. He’s mocking me, and I don’t like it one bit.
“Listen, motherfucker. I owe you nothing.” He continues. “The fact that I’m offering you my boy, well, I’m offended that you are even questioning that.”
“There’s a lot at stake here. I need to know you are taking this fucking seriously. Useless cocksuckers aren’t gonna cut it.”
I see the look on Jeffries’ face darken and it’s like the whole room starts to close in on us. Men crowd him, and he shifts in his chair, leaning forward, his face so close to mine. I don’t retract; I counter his actions, closing the space further. I won’t ever back down from this motherfucker, no matter how many of his men have his back. Tara’s fingers grasp at my shirt as she tries to pull me back a little. I don’t move, I keep my eyes focused on Jeffries.
“What the fuck is going on here?” the voice calls over and all eyes land on him. He’s a tall guy with long black hair tied back. He has a pretty boy look to his face, the bare skin he has on show is completely covered in tattoos. But one thing I can’t help but notice is the gloves he wears on his hands.
“Glad you could join us,” his father responds with a tone of sarcasm. He strolls forward, stripping the plastic gloves off his hands and shoving them inside his jean pockets.
“I was busy,” he said, leaning against the back of the chair. “You know, chicks and tattoos. It’s my thing.” His eyes focus just past me and I look at Tara to see she is staring back at the handsome young man leaning against the back of the chair. He must be about nineteen if that.
“I need someone who can shoot a real gun, not a fucking tattoo one,” I grate out, growing more and more annoyed by what is unfolding. I’ve asked this cunt for help and he’s offered me a boy. A boy who seems to like to fuck girls and draw on bodies for fun.
“Fuck you,” the boy all but spits at me. “You know nothing about me or what I can or can’t do.” He raises his voice, his eyebrows drawn together as a look of disgust dresses his face. “I may not be as experienced as my old man, but I can fucking hold my own. Who are we fucking up today?” His tone lightens as he rubs his hands together animatedly.
I talk for what feels like hours, filling Nate in on what has happened and how I’m going there to retrieve Isabelle.
“Sounds like some sick motherfucker, this uh, this Alvrez.”
I purse my lips nodding my head in agreement. “I’m going to put out a call, get some men together. I think we need to be completely prepared when we get there. He isn’t going to go down without a fight.”
“We also need to be smart. If this guy has cameras and security, we need to get in and out of there fast.”
I nod, smiling at the kid who clearly seems smarter than his old man.
“How long before you’re well enough to make this happen?” he asks with a lift of his head, taking a drag on his cigarette. He lets the smoke seep slowly from his mouth as he focuses on me.
“If it was up to me, I would have gone there yesterday. It fucking kills me to know he has her and what he could be doing. Time is of the essence, but I’d be a dick if I didn’t admit that I’m not ready. Fucking wound is giving me pain. I’m weak, much weaker than normal.”
“You need time to heal, Brax. You are no good to her like this if you can’t fight, you’re out of breath just climbing the stairs…”
“But, fuck,” I roar, complete and utter frustration racing through my body. “She could be dead for all we know.” I squeeze my eyes shut, clenching my hands together so tightly in front of me it almost hurts.
“How long?” Nate asks. “Before you think we can make this happen?”
“Fuck knows. It could take months until I’m completely healed. And we don’t have a month.”
“Let’s give it a week. One week for you to rest and recover some more.”
“No, man. It’s too long.”<
br />
“Listen, Brax. I’m on board. Look, I want to help, but you have to start by fucking helping yourself. I ain’t carrying you, bro. You need to be strong enough to do this!”
“He’s right,” Tara cuts in. “I know how hard this is for you, but you need longer to recover. Your body has barely had chance to repair itself.”
“Fine, fine,” I concede. “One week, then we go storm that fucking place and take back what is ours.”
“If we can pull this off, my old man might actually give me a break.”
“Yeah. What’s the deal with him?” I quiz, thinking back to how Jeffries had spoken about him earlier.
“It’s just how he is,” he answers, brushing off my question. “I guess I’m more calculated, less reckless than some of the other guys. He doesn’t like that I question things and don’t just automatically bow down to everything he says.”
The more I get to know this kid, the more I’m warming to him. He is different, that much is obvious. He seems somewhat educated, less gang-led and impulsive. It’s like he doesn’t really follow the pack. And I haven’t missed how Tara is looking at him. She’s barely taken her eyes off him the whole time, but this is dangerous shit getting close to the Savages. He’s the heir to all that comes with being part of the MC.
“It’s been good meeting with you.” Tara stands, holding out her hand to him. He lifts the back of her hand to meet his lips, a little kissed pink color sears through her cheeks as she blushes. I frown a little, letting out a huge sigh as I watch the two of them looking all fucking flirty and shit. I clear my throat realizing that it’s time to make a move.
“We should get back. Let you guys resume the party we interrupted.”
“Life is just one big party around here. You should stay.” He looks at Tara with widened eyes. A sudden rush of protectiveness comes over me as I pull back on Tara’s arm.
“I need to get her home,” I inform him, glaring at him intensely in warning. He stares back at me, but gives me a nod of understanding.
“Maybe some other time then?”
“I’m sure it can be arranged,” she replies a little coyly.
He walks us out of the house, stopping just beside the car. “I’ll be in touch,” he simply states. I shake his hand before making my way around the passenger side and jumping in.
Sitting in silence, we drive the short distance to the house.
“You’re awfully quiet, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I dismiss. “You seemed to take a liking to the young Savage back there,” I say with a tip of my head.
“Yeah, he seemed really nice,” she replies casually. I can’t help but narrow my eyes on her.
“Nice? He’s a Savage, I’m not sure those two words even go together in the same sentence.”
“I’m a Mellano, would you say the same about me? Don’t judge him because his dad’s an asshole,” she chastises. I glance at the girl for a second, realizing that there is something quite endearing about her. I have zero romantic feelings for the girl, but the friendship she has offered has touched this black old heart of mine.
“Listen, this is some Montague and Capulet shit you are talking about here…”
“Jeez,” she cuts me off. “I think he’s hot, I ain’t in love, jerk.”
I laugh at her, nudging her arm a little while lifting my brow. “Fuck, I may be a little messed up right now, but I recognize the looks you were giving each other. But, seriously, be careful. The lifestyle these guys live isn’t one I’d want for you. I don’t want Carter on my case about this shit.”
“Listen, the main priority is for you to heal that body of yours.” She wiggles her finger at me. “Then we go kick fucking ass.”
“We?” I gasp. “There ain’t no we about this. No fucking way.”
“I’ll be your getaway driver. I want to help.” Her head flits between the road and me. “Brax, believe me, I’m not Jessica. I’m not playing games; I genuinely want to help. What happened between us was just sex.” She whispers the word ‘sex’ as if she’s embarrassed about what happened between us. “But I can’t turn my back on you like Carter has. I see how much she means to you, and you weren’t to know you would find her at that fucker Alvrez’s house. No one would have known that. You were the only one there for me in my darkest times. After what, well, you know, what happened.”
“I’m grateful for your loyalty, and your friendship, but there is no fucking way I’m getting you involved in this. Carter would blow my fucking head off if anything happened to you.”
Sinking back into the chair, I realize what a fucking mess this whole situation is. I’m dancing with the devil in an attempt to fight the bastard that took Izzy. I hope beyond hope that she’s holding on, that he hasn’t done something terrible to her. I’ll never be able to forgive myself. It was my job to protect her, but I didn’t. I failed to keep her safe when she’d already been through so much. I was stupid. Careless. And now I’m paying the price. Just when my dark days were becoming sunny ones, the storm came and ripped away my sunshine.
I will do whatever it takes to get her back.
To find her again.
Fear like I have never known spirals through me. The sounds in the room have played over and over, this mental torture is almost worse than the physical. Pain dulls, my body heals, but this… this is in my mind, it’s one thing I can’t escape.
Every part of my fragile body is numb. I’ve been tied in this goddamn medical bed for days. In fact, I’m not sure how many days it’s been. I have lost all concept of time. I don’t know whether it’s morning, evening or the middle of the night.
The darkness is endless.
I dart out my dry tongue, licking my lips which taste of dried blood. They are cracked and peeling, splitting every time I move them. I can’t feel my hands or my feet, despite my attempts to move them. I have only had one visit. One. And that was to remove my clothes. I lie naked, covered in my own urine and feces. The smell is nauseating, but I have nothing left to vomit. My stomach is empty. I haven’t eaten a single thing, neither have I had anything to drink.
The sound of torture being played into the room comes to a sudden stop. I stop my never-ending thoughts for a second, trying to work out whether my mind is playing tricks on me, or whether the noise has indeed ceased. I open my weary eyes, trying to be as alert as possible, but shut them as fast as I can when an unexpected amount of light streams into the room.
“Who… who… is it?” I croak out, desperate for someone to hear, but I’m not sure they can. I’m blinded by the light; my eyes water a little and I try to stop the stinging sensation that hurts so damn bad. I hear footsteps approaching and I open my mouth to ask again, only nothing comes out. I’m helpless. Completely and utterly broken.
Relying on my senses, I listen to the movements around the room. The clinking sound of the straps that hold me down ring through the silence.
“Fucking clean her up. She’s no good to me like this.”
I recognize that voice. Alvrez.
“Food and water, Sir?” the voice closest to my body asks and I recognize that one too. Harlan.
“Just a little. Not enough to give her full strength, but enough so that I can actually do something with her.”
“Yes, Sir,” he replies quickly, continuing to work loose the straps. I feel my body lifted from the bed and I’m moving. The next thing I know I’m being placed into water that is neither warm nor cold. My lip quivers and dizziness swims in my head.
“Clean yourself,” he growls, a cloth hitting my chest.
“I… I… I… can’t open my eyes. It hurts so bad,” I croak. The lights go off and I attempt to open them. I manage to open them ever so slightly. A small amount of light filters into the bathroom from the main room. I can’t quite see right, but I recognize what little I can see. I’m in the bathroom adjoining the room where he’s had me holed up before.
“Better?” he asks with a tone of sarcasm.
“Yes,” I re
ply, my throat burns it is so dry.
“Here, drink this.” I keep my head down, taking the glass he holds out right in front of me. My hand trembles and I can barely hold it still. “Small sips. Don’t gulp it. You’ll make yourself sick.” I let my cracked lips meet the rim of the glass, sipping small amounts of the water. He removes the glass, and I whimper a little as my body craves more.
“Get cleaned up first,” he orders, pointing to the cloth still resting on my chest. I slowly lift my arm, trying to grasp it. It’s like every little movement feels like I’m lifting weights. I have no strength at all in any of my limbs. “Do it,” he roars, startling me, my body shakes in response. I will my hands to move and grab the damn cloth.
“I’m trying,” I sob, my voice giving out. I finally manage to grab the cloth and grip it loosely as I start to wash my soiled body.
“You are disgusting,” he spits at me and I tilt my head just enough to look at him. His nostrils flare and his lip curls at the edges as he looks at me like I’m some sort of stray, flea-ridden cat that he despises. “I don’t know why he is bothering with you. I would have left you to suffer and die if it was up to me.”
His words flow off me like water from a duck’s back. I can’t get angry, because I don’t have the strength. I can’t have my revenge because I’m too weak.
I need to be strong again.
I will be strong again.
I got out of that room and I have to do everything to make sure I never go back in there. I don’t think I will ever come out alive if I do. I have to hold on, taking one day at a time. Self-preservation is everything right now.
“I’m sorry,” I croak, dropping my head, not wanting to meet his eyes again. I summon every bit of strength that my pathetic body has left to scrub myself.
“Hurry up,” he growls, shoving his hand in his pants. “I can’t take this smell much longer.” His hand flies to his mouth, covering it as he turns away.
“I’m trying. Please, I’m so weak but I’m doing the best I can.” I breathe deeply, desperate to get my breath. Even talking seems to take more energy than I have right now.
The scars of us Page 6
