by Brook Wilder
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
“Now what do we do?” Prescott whispered under his breath. Shaft opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say anything, Prescott picked up his phone and began scrolling through his contacts.
“Who are you going to call?” Shaft asked, a look of concern on his face. “Don’t do anything stupid, Prescott.”
“I’m going to call Al,” he said, his thumb hovering over the screen. Shaft could tell he was hesitating.
“Do you really wanna do that?” he asked, his head cocked to the side. He was still patching up his leg, rummaging around the house until he found a first aid kit under the couple’s bed. Prescott had completely forgotten to mention it to Shaft, but he wasn’t upset with him. He knew how pressured he was at this point--anyone would be--and he had promised himself he would do whatever it took to get Della back.
Prescott paused for a second, staring at the moving propellers of the ceiling fan.
“There’s no other way,” he said. “It’s the only way to find out where they took her.”
“And what about the app?” Shaft asked. “Della’s bound to turn it on anytime now.”
“Well I’m not going to wait around for that to happen,” Prescott said, turning to Shaft. “And even if she did, Al needs to know who he’s up against. I’m not a pussy, Shaft,” he continued, his hands balled up into fists. He tapped on Al’s name and listened closely for the dial tone. Suddenly, Al picked up, and there was a brief silence before Prescott heard a crackling noise, followed by the sound of Al sucking in air through his mouth.
“Hello,” he said. Prescott could just hear the amusement in his voice.
“Al,” Prescott said, his voice firm. “Where did you take her?”
Silence on the other end. Prescott listened closely as Al cleared his throat.
“Well, well, well,” he said suddenly. The air around him was pretty quiet, so quiet that it worried Prescott. Was Della already there and was she tied up? Was she in pain? Or was she still with Simon? A million thoughts were racing through his head, but he could only hope that Al would provide him with the information he needed. “You mean your girlfriend?” Al chuckled.
“Don’t play dumb,” Prescott said, his heart beginning to race. He knew this wasn’t going to be an easy phone call. He knew Al wanted to torture him. “Just tell me where she is,” he continued, brushing a hand through his hair.
“She’s with Simon, Prescott. I thought you already knew that?” Al asked, smiling.
Prescott could feel the anger boil up inside him. He couldn’t take another second of Al’s ways, but he knew he had to muster up the courage to follow through with the conversation if he wanted to know where Simon was taking Della.
“Oh, I know,” he said finally. “I want to know where he’s taking her,” he continued.
“Well,” Al said. “I’m going to tell you… But you need to promise me one thing, Prescott.”
“And what would that be?” Prescott asked. He was pacing the room, looking up at Shaft, who just gestured for him to go on.
“That you’re going to meet me at the place I tell you,” Al said. Prescott could hear the venom in his voice. Al was up to no good, and Prescott knew he was walking into fire just by meeting with him. Al wanted him dead, and there was no guaranteeing that Prescott was going to make it out of there alive. But it was either that, or Al was going to kill Della.
“I’ll be there,” Prescott breathed. “Just tell me where you are,” he continued.
“Come up to Park Hills,” Al whispered with a low voice that sent shivers down Prescott’s spine.
“Hello?” Prescott said. But Al had already hung up. “Fuck, fuck,” he whispered under his breath, tossing the phone aside.
“Don’t do it,” Shaft said shaking his head. “It’s a trap.”
Prescott didn’t answer. He ran upstairs, barging into his room and grabbing his gun from under the bed. He ran back downstairs, Shaft gawking at him as he slid his gun into his pocket.
“He’s just bluffing,” Shaft said again. “What, do you think he’s just going to tell where he is?” he asked, squinting.
“I’m not taking any chances,” Prescott said. “I don’t care what happens to me, but if Al’s right and Simon’s taking Della over there, then I’m going to have to beat him to it.”
Prescott nodded towards Shaft, who just shrugged. Prescott knew he was taking a chance by going there, and that he was risking his own life in the process, but he also knew that there was no way he was going to sit back and let this go. If Al was going to specify a location, then Prescott was going to be there.
“I was wrong not to gun this motherfucker down after what he did to my father,” Prescott said, his eyes growing wide with fury. “I’m not going to let this happen again. Over my dead body.” He picked up his phone and ran to the door. “It’s about time this bastard got what he deserves,” he said, swinging the front door open and stepping out into the lawn. He made his way to his bike and quickly got on it, driving off into the distance.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
Prescott was determined. He took the cold air into his lungs as he sped down the highway.
That bastard isn’t going to get away with this, he thought to himself. The image of a pregnant Della popped up in his head, and she was desperate. He thought about what they could possibly be doing to her. Were they just holding her captive or was she hurt? Prescott flinched at the very idea of someone laying a hand on her. But who was he kidding? He knew those men like the back of his hand. They didn’t have the best of intentions.
Prescott pulled over at the start of a hiking trail. He had followed Al’s instructions and got to the location; Park Hills wasn’t the friendliest place. It was a secluded part of the woods, with a trail leading up to an abandoned mansion at the very top of a hill. But it was far from obvious. You had to hike into the depths of the woods to actually get a glimpse of that stand-alone mansion, which, to most people or at least the authorities, had always been one of the toughest tasks. That place was in the heart of the unknown, even Prescott didn’t know exactly where it was. All he knew was that everything about the place screamed murder. He wouldn’t be surprised if Al’s men got in the habit of gathering in that place to plot his father’s downfall. Prescott gazed up at the hill for a while, thinking about what Shaft had told him. He was scanning the place up and down, observing all its paths and entrances. He wanted to map out the area in his head, just in case Al tried anything funny.
“Alright, Al, show yourself,” Prescott mumbled as he left his bike on the side of the road and trekked deeper into the woods. He took his gun with him, sliding it into his pocket and holding onto it as he made his way up. It got darker and darker as he made his way deeper into the forest, with the tall branching trees blocking out most of the sunlight. Prescott put one foot in front of the other, squinting as he felt his way down the trail. Suddenly, he heard a rustling noise. He jumped back, pulled his gun out and started to scan the place with his eyes. It was just the wind.
I’m getting a bit paranoid, Prescott thought to himself as he breathed a sigh of relief and resumed walking. It was a long way up. The hills were steep, and, every once in a while, some sort of badger-like animal would scurry past him, causing him to cock his pistol. Get your shit together, he thought again as he straightened himself and hiked farther down the trail. But there was nothing there. Prescott nearly made his way to the top of the hill where the mansion should be, but still, he found nothing. He was getting a bit apprehensive. The woods were too quiet. The silence that settled in the air was almost deadly.
“Well, well, well.”
Prescott felt his skin crawl when he heard that raspy voice creep up from behind him. He cocked his pistol and turned around. It was Al, standing there in his leather jacket and combat boots, a smile plastered to his face. “Where’s Della?” Prescott asked, glaring at him. His brain was on overdrive. Al was just standing there, staring back at him, and it was o
nly when Al appeared alone that Prescott realized that Shaft was right. It was a trap.
Of course, what did you expect? he thought to himself, his eyes fixated on Al. He looked confident, almost certain that he had Prescott wrapped around his finger. But Prescott wasn’t having it. He needed to know where Della was, and he needed to know right now.
“Oh, I think you’ve got it all wrong,” Al said, stepping closer to him. “I’m not going to hand her over to you that easily. Some conditions need to be met,” he continued, his face drooping to a scowl.
Prescott stood firmly still. He didn’t want to make any sudden moves when he wasn’t sure. Al stood at the edge of a hill, and he looked so sure of himself, like he was invincible. Prescott scorned his confidence.
Who does he think he is? he thought to himself. Al thought he had complete control over Prescott’s life. But there was no way he was going down without a fight. In no more than a split second, he took out his gun and fired a shot at Al.
But he missed.
Al went rolling around in the dirt, but he quickly got up and glared at Prescott, who charged towards him and jerked him off balance. An animal snarl clawed its way up Al’s throat.
“You son of a bitch, I’m going to kill you!” he hissed, swinging and missing. Prescott drove his shoulder into Al’s chest, pinning him down and pulling his gun out of his pocket. He cocked his pistol, but before he could fire another shot, Al attacked with a right overhand punch, throwing Prescott off balance. He fell back, Al throwing himself on top of him and reaching for his gun. Prescott stretched his arm out, trying to keep the gun as far from Al’s reach as he possibly could. Al reached for his own gun, and before he could take it out of his pocket, Prescott arched his back and kneed him in the crotch. Al let out a loud grunt and fell limp on top of Prescott. Now this was his chance. He put the gun to Al’s stomach and pulled the trigger. In an instant, he could feel a warm goo seep in through his fingers, and he hauled Al’s lifeless body off of his. He laid there for a couple of seconds, staring at the sky. He couldn’t believe what he had just done. Suddenly he felt the adrenaline rush through his body, it was like nothing he had ever felt before in his life. He had never felt so content, so victorious. He had avenged his father, the man whom his world once revolved around. But now he was thinking of Della. She never left his mind. And he needed to get up and finish what he started.
With Al out of the picture, they’re going to get weaker, they’re going to have to follow my orders or they’re dead, he thought to himself as he made his way back downhill. He glanced far behind him, and he basked in the glory of victory and the glory of revenge. Al’s body lying motionless, drowning in a pool of his own blood. “That motherfucker got what he deserved,” Prescott whispered under his breath as he made his way down carefully. He was still being cautious, scanning the area around him with his eyes. Now he knew the mission to rescue Della had gotten that much easier, but he wasn’t going to bask too much. He knew he couldn’t let his arrogance get the best of him. After all, Al’s men had his back. There was no telling how they were going to react to this.
Prescott got back on his bike and took out his phone. He dialed Shaft’s number, and put the phone to his ear.
“Hello?” Shaft said in a worried voice.
“Shaft,” Prescott said, his eyes darting up and down the trail behind him. “I got him, I got Al,” he continued.
“You shot him?” Al asked suddenly.
“Dead,” Prescott said. “He’s dead, Shaft.”
There was a silence on the other end. Prescott could hear Shaft breathe a sigh of relief.
“Alright, well, some shit’s going down,” he said with a worried tone.
“What?” Prescott asked, cocking his head to the side.
“There’s some shit on the police radios about a high speed chase,” Shaft said. “You need to move away from there fast.”
“Hold on,” Prescott said, turning on the police scanner. “I know where they’re heading now,” he said suddenly. “They could be after Simon.”
“They probably are,” Shaft said. “You need to get moving, they’ll lead you to where Simon took Della,” he continued.
Prescott nodded. Everything was falling into place now that Al was dead. He could see things more clearly, he felt more in control now more than ever. He knew Della needed him, and now he finally had the means to get to her. But he had to act fast. He had to follow that chase if it was the last thing he did. The cops were fast, but he had to catch up to them if he wanted to find her. He clenched his eyes, holding onto the handlebars. He called to his dad for help, he knew he was always there by his side, watching over him. He believed in that immensely. The truth was, Prescott still felt like an idiot for not picking up on the signs. He was leading Della down a dangerous path, and if she had been oblivious to it at the time, he shouldn’t have been.
No time for negative thoughts, Prescott thought, trying to shake off his anxiety. He got anxious way too often, a part of him wishing he knew how to work well under pressure. But he didn’t have much of a choice, didn’t he? It was do or die, and in that case, getting rid of Al got him that much closer to his goal.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Simon wouldn’t leave Della alone. She was backed up against his car, and he hadn’t stopped gawking at her since. She had told herself to stop interacting with him, or even looking at him, like he was invisible. She realized that snapping at him provoked him a whole lot more than not acknowledging his existence at all. Simon loved a conformist woman. He wanted to feel powerful, like he was in control. And that was what he was trying to do with Della. He was trying to control her, make her feel small. Like she was his puppet. He got off on her squeals, her desperate cries for help. And he was pushing for more. But Della wasn’t having it. Simon knew she wasn’t that kind of woman; she had a lot of fight in her, and she wasn’t going to let him intimidate her. But the truth was, Della was afraid. In fact, she was terrified of Simon. She knew he was unpredictable, that he was going to stop at nothing to make her his. After all, he was obsessed with her, and she knew that well.
“Hey, can you just let me?” Simon asked, leaning in close to Della.
“You just never give up, do you?” Della asked, turning away. She wiggled her body away from him, but this time, he wouldn’t let her.
“No, I won’t. I won’t because you don’t want me to, say you don’t want me to,” Simon said, his face only inches from hers.
Della could feel her heartbeat out of her chest. She held her hands out in front of her, trying to push Simon off.
“Stop fighting it!” he snapped, pressing his lips to hers.
Della could feel her heart sink. She was feeling humiliated, like she had let him get to her. The truth was, she felt disgusted, and all that she wanted was to disappear right then and there. Simon’s lips felt cold and clammy, and Della felt her skin crawl as he exercised his makeout skills on her. She leaned further back, trying to pull away, but he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her closer to him. She could feel his hands roam her body, his fingers climbing up and down her back.
“Stop,” she murmured, resting her hands on his chest and trying to push him off.
“You know you like it.” Simon pressed his forehead to hers, staring deeply into her eyes. Della tried to shrink away, leaning further back and holding her forearms up to her face. Tears gathered in her eyes as Simon locked lips with her again, his lips wet and clammy. She felt like hell. She had never been so humiliated in her life, but she couldn’t free herself from Simon’s grip.
“Get off me!” she yelled, throwing her head back and clawing at his face. Della dug her nails into the back of Simon’s neck, and he jumped back, groaning.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he asked, his eyes locked on Della’s. His face drooped to a scowl, but when their gazes met, his lips curved to a smile again, and he stepped closer to her and pulled her to him once more. Della winced as his hands moved further
down her back, touching her backside.
“Don’t touch me!” Della squealed, grabbing a hold of his wrist. He turned her around so she faced the car window, and he grabbed her from behind. At that point Della’s belly as squished up against the car window, Simon’s hands wrapped around her and roamed her baby bump.
“Is the baby kicking?” he whispered into her ear. His raspy voice sent shivers down Della’s spine, and for a second she felt like heaving.
“Get your hands off my belly, get your hands off my baby!” she yelled, struggling to turn around again. He stroked her stomach with his thumb, burying his face into her neck and nuzzling it. She could feel the cold tip of his nose stroking the nape of her neck and travelling down to her collarbone. She turned to look at him, and when he stuck out his tongue teasingly, she kicked at him with the heel of her boots.
“You bitch!” he said, bouncing back again. “That hurt!”
