Hart of Darkness

by S. B. Alexander

  Or so I prayed.

  31

  Maggie

  Cory shoved me into an empty cage. “Bitch.”

  I fell hard on my knees, barely catching myself with my hands before my head went through the other side of the cage. Loose pebbles sank into the palms of my hands, and excruciating pain gripped my thigh where Miguel had shot me. As hard as it was to suppress any sign that I was in agony, I schooled my features as best I could then raised myself to a sitting position and rested my back against the hard steel of the cage.

  Cory slammed the door before wiping the blood that was running down his chin and neck. I should’ve flinched at being confined to a small space, but with my tan pants absorbing the blood oozing out of my leg, I didn’t have the energy to move. Shock was setting in and so was the nausea.

  I covered my leg with my hand. I would’ve used my shirt to forge a makeshift bandage, but Cory had ripped that off me. And I didn’t have the oomph to tear off a portion of my pants. So there I was, locked in a steel trap. My only hope of survival was Dillon, and while I knew he would do whatever he could to rescue me, I couldn’t see him handing over Grace. Apart from that, sunrise was hours away. Miguel had delivered the meeting time to Cory when he’d hung up from talking with Dillon.

  The women in the other cages spat at Cory as he hurried by them. Then Miguel and his men left the building.

  “Maggie,” the girl next to me said.

  Slowly, I turned my head, and even that was a monumental feat.

  “Hey, it’s Misty. Remember me? I’m your source on the street.”

  Her petite form came in and out of focus.

  “You need to tie your leg with something to stop the blood,” she said. “Did you hear me? Maggie, you can’t fall asleep. You need to stop the bleeding.”

  I knew that name, but my efforts to do anything other than keep my eyes open were becoming difficult by the minute.

  “Come closer. Can you do that?” she asked, her voice becoming white noise. “Please.”

  Something hard hit me in the head, and I opened my eyes.

  “I’ll throw another rock at you if you don’t come closer to me,” she said as if she were my mother.

  Oh no, my mom! I wouldn’t get to meet her after all. Tears started to run down my face. I wouldn’t get to go out on a date with Dillon. I wouldn’t get to feel what it was like to be kissed by him.

  “Maggie,” Misty shouted at the top of her lungs.

  I woke up.

  “Get your ass over here,” she ordered.

  I obeyed for the mere reason that I wanted her to be quiet. I used my hands and butt to navigate the short distance to her side of the cage. Once I made it, I almost passed out.

  She tore her tank top off, exposing her pretty pink bra, and I noticed bruises along her arms. “Good girl.”

  “How did you get here?” Please don’t say because of me or because you talked to me.

  “One of Miguel’s men saw me talking to you a few weeks ago.”

  More tears spilled out. “I’m so sorry.” God, I was getting women killed. I groaned more than cried. The pain was to the point that I seriously felt as though I were going to pass out. I felt as if someone had taken a hot fireplace poker and rammed it into my leg.

  Shivers racked my body.

  Misty flipped her oily auburn hair away from her freckled face. “It’s not your fault. Working the streets as a call girl comes with risks.” She ripped her tank top before shoving the piece of fabric through the small mesh hole. “Tie this around your leg. It should slow the bleeding.”

  “She needs to get to a hospital,” a girl said from one of the other cages. “She’s not going to make it. She’s lost a lot of blood.”

  That girl was right. I was fading fast. In between blinks and some blurriness, I could make out the four-sided steel cage that looked exactly like one that Ted used at the precinct to hold perps who hadn’t been processed yet. I knew there was no way out. Cages were tamper-proof from the inside.

  Misty rubbed a hand up her bruised arm. “Use the shirt, Maggie. You’re losing a lot of blood. The bullet might’ve damaged your main artery.”

  Her statement should’ve scared the lights out of me, but panicking would only send me deeper into shock.

  I lifted my arm to pull the thin fabric through the hole, but even that small act was hard. My arm felt like a heavy weight. I took a breath when I finally had the shirt in my lap. In slow movements, I managed to secure it around my leg, groaning and swearing the entire time.

  Push past the pain. You need to get out of here. You need to get these girls out. I didn’t want to give up, but I was kind of screwed. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t get out, and I couldn’t save anyone including myself.

  When I told Dillon I was already dead, I was serious.

  “Miguel!” I screamed as loud as I could. I would continue to scream bloody murder until the man showed his face, if I lasted that long. It took all the energy I had to push air out of my lungs.

  “What are you doing?” Misty didn’t sound thrilled. “Don’t bring attention to yourself. He’ll kill you.”

  I let out a weak laugh. “No, he won’t. He needs me.” That much, I was certain of.

  “I hate to say this, but you’ll be lucky if you last the next hour,” Misty added.

  I heard a faint click of shoes, or I might have imagined it. Then Cory, the ugly bastard, grinned down at me from the other side of the cage. He’d cleaned up his bloody mouth.

  “How’s your tongue, asshole?”

  He narrowed his eyes and threw me the finger.

  “Aw, cat bit it off?” I shouldn’t have been cocky or sarcastic, but as much pain as I was in, I was enjoying the heck out of the fact that I’d hurt him in some small way.

  His nostrils flared, and his cheeks reddened.

  “I want to talk to Miguel.”

  “You can tell me.” His speech was off.

  I spied Miguel strutting over, his short legs moving fast, or maybe I was imagining things.

  “What do you want?” He settled next to Cory, his hooknose protruding more than I remembered.

  I was about to answer him until I spotted Rick sauntering over with a grin the size of California. No, it couldn’t be him. My mind had to be playing tricks on me.

  Miguel followed my line of sight. Then he laughed, the sound making all my hairs stand up. “Everyone can be bought, Maggie.”

  Rick studied me. “Miguel, you said you weren’t going to hurt her. This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  “Spare me the emotion, Rick. You can’t possibly believe someone like these two.” I tried to wag my finger between asshole one and asshole two.

  “I wasn’t planning on it, but she gave me no choice,” Miguel said as though it were my fault he’d shot me.

  “Who is he?” Misty whispered.

  “Ladies,” I said, “meet Rick the cop. You can’t trust anyone anymore, not even the law.”

  The girls made noises, but quiet ones just in case Miguel had any inkling to unleash his abuse.

  “I see you want to get shot again.” He sounded excited to have the opportunity to use his gun on me.

  Jerk.

  “If I die, you will never get Grace.” I glanced at my leg. The blood wasn’t coming out as fast. “So get me a doctor. Now.” Whatever plan Dillon had up his sleeve, I prayed it would work. I couldn’t die. I had a lot to live for, and by golly, if I was going to give my life to the good Lord today, then I wanted to at least try like a bitch to save myself and the girls in this warehouse.

  He considered me as Cory harrumphed. Rick had an impassive expression. No surprise there since he was an experienced cop.

  “I can help her,” Misty chimed in. “Get me some medical supplies and a knife and tweezers. Oh, and I’ll need a syringe of that Special K drug you use to knock us out with.”

  The men eyed Misty as if she had five heads.

  “Do you want your prize possession?” Misty asked. “If
so, you’re wasting time. She’s going to die.”

  I wanted to say “you’re not a doctor,” but what did I know? The only thing I knew about Misty was that she’d sold her body for a high price on the streets.

  Miguel snapped his fingers at Cory. “Get the first-aid supplies and a syringe of the drug.” He gave me the impression that he patched people up all the time.

  Cory left, and Miguel glowered at me then at Misty. “I’m locking you in the cage with her,” he said to Misty. “Any funny stuff, and I’ll shoot you in the head.”

  Misty didn’t flinch or make a sound. “Kind of hard to try to escape when you’re locked in a cage.”

  Miguel moved Misty in with me before he walked away. Rick was on his heels.

  “Does Ted know?” I shouted at Rick as best I could. But he kept walking.

  Traitor.

  Misty kneeled at my side.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” I guess it really didn’t matter if she did or not. If she didn’t get the bullet out, I was a dead girl.

  “I was studying to be a nurse, but I’ve never removed a bullet from anyone.”

  I laughed. “Then why did you volunteer?”

  I could hear the girls talking but couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  “Because if you die, I don’t want you to die alone. And maybe we can get out of here if he brings us that Special K drug.”

  I was a little woozy, so I wasn’t following her train of thought too well. “Special K?”

  “It’s a drug they use that knocks out the girls pretty quickly so they can transport them. The street name is Special K. In some circles, it’s known as a date rape drug or valium. Anyway, if we can take one of the men out, we can grab his gun and find a way out of here.”

  I loved the way she was thinking. “I won’t be able to walk. You go and get help. If you can get out of here, contact Detective Ted Hughes.”

  Cory returned with medical supplies. He quickly unlocked the cage door and threw them in before securing the lock again.

  Misty rifled through the medical supplies and pulled out tweezers. “Where’s the knife and the Special K? Miguel told you to bring it. She’s going to need a sedative.” She snarled at Cory.

  “Miguel changed his mind,” he said. “Bandage her up and make sure she doesn’t die. If she does, then you do too.” He stalked away.

  Her plan was shot to hell.

  Her light-blue eyes filled with tears as she pulled out a small bottle of peroxide.

  I grasped her hand. “Hey, we’ll get out of here. If I know Dillon, he’ll find us.” He probably wouldn’t find us in time, but I was trying to convince myself more than her.

  She uncapped the bottle. “This is going to sting.” She poured the chemical on my leg.

  I screamed holy hell.

  “Sorry.” She examined the wound then tore open a gauze pad and dabbed more peroxide on it before cleaning the area around the hole. “The blood is clotting. That’s good news.” She checked my pulse. “Your pulse is extremely slow. That’s not good.” Then she tightened the makeshift tourniquet a little more.

  I closed my eyes, willing the pain to go away.

  Misty tapped on my face. “Stay awake.” Her voiced reminded me of one of my foster moms, who’d scolded me for breaking a glass.

  I fluttered my eyelids, shivering.

  “Good girl,” Misty said. “Okay, tell me something about yourself.”

  I inhaled a large breath, knowing she was trying to keep me awake. I said the first thing that came to mind. “I’ve never had a crush on a boy until now. Or had a mind-blowing kiss.” I slurred the last three words.

  She giggled. “Have you been hiding under a rock? You’re what? Twenty-five or so? No crushes in high school? First loves?”

  I didn’t go to high school. I’d gotten my GED then applied to college. Living in a gang and on the streets was all about survival and not about learning algebra or any subject other than how to stay alive. “When Cory raped me at fourteen, I didn’t go near any men until I was in college, and even then, I only had one-night stands. Sure, men kissed me, but not like they were in love with me or like I meant anything to them other than a girl to have sex with. So when I say I haven’t had a mind-blowing kiss, I mean by a man who loves me.”

  “You mean that asshole.” She stabbed her thumb in the direction Cory had rushed off. “Raped you when you were fourteen?”

  I nodded.

  “Whoa. I say we kill him, then.”

  I smiled as best I could. “Slowly. We need to torture him.” It was freeing to inflict Cory with pain, but I didn’t get the satisfaction from it that I thought I would.

  Silence hung in the air. Even the girls in the other cages had gone quiet, listening to Misty and me.

  “So, kissing isn’t all that great. My first time”—Misty fiddled with my tourniquet—“was with a boy named Chase. His lips were hard. His tongue was nasty. I think he ate a clove of garlic before he kissed me.”

  I giggled.

  “So you’ve never been in love?” she asked.

  I frowned “No. Love is overrated. Or maybe it isn’t. This guy, Dillon, who I was supposed to be on a date with tonight, gives me all kinds of cozy feelings.”

  It was her turn to giggle. “I would say you’re experiencing your first love.”

  “Misty,” I barely said. “I can’t keep my eyes open.”

  She tapped my cheek. “Stay with me.”

  Darkness crept in along the edges of my vision. “Tell Dillon that I’m sorry.”

  “You tell him.” Her voice began to fade. “Maggie. Mag—”

  My heart beat one last time before the noises, pain, and voices died.

  32

  Dillon

  I sat in a booth in an all-night diner not far from the paint factory, waiting on Detective Hughes. I wanted to feel him out before I brought him over to the factory. My brother didn’t want anything to do with cops. So he’d stayed behind to watch over Grace and Dom in the event Dom found where Miguel was holed up and decided to tackle things on his own.

  When I’d left, Dom wasn’t having any luck on finding more properties owned by Marco Holdings, and neither was his buddy. I believed that Miguel wasn’t stupid enough to put all his eggs in one basket. He knew Grace had probably heard too much while she was with him. Not only that, but after the raid on the house, I was sure Miguel had probably locked down his organization any way he could.

  The bell on the door dinged, and Hughes sauntered through it, heading directly toward me. He looked tired and a tad pissed off. I imagined he hadn’t been too happy to get out of bed in the wee hours of the morning. We only had three hours left before Miguel showed up with Maggie. I’d been trying for hours to get ahold of Hughes. After I’d left several messages and called the precinct, he finally returned my call, and only because I’d mentioned that Maggie was in danger. I hadn’t given more detail than that. I was afraid if I had, he would’ve alerted his team, in particular Rick.

  He slid into the booth across from me with a crease in between his bushy eyebrows. He combed his mustache with his fingers. “Start talking.”

  Since we didn’t have a great relationship, his tone was rather brusque.

  I played with a napkin as the aroma from my coffee cup wafted up my nose.

  The plump waitress came over with a mug in one hand and a pot of coffee in the other. “Coffee?” she asked Ted.

  Hughes nodded.

  Once she had filled his cup and gone back behind the counter, Hughes said, “Talk.”

  I raked my gaze over his skin, which was weathered and worn, no doubt from years of fighting crime on the streets of Boston. I gnawed on my bottom lip, debating where to start—with Maggie or the snitch in his ranks. If I began with Maggie, Hughes wouldn’t hear anything else. If I came out and told him about Rick, he wouldn’t believe me. He would storm out and get Rick on the phone. Rick would deny that he was feeding Miguel information, then Hughes would get his
team together to search for Maggie while Rick alerted Miguel.

  Maybe bringing Hughes into this wasn’t a good idea. Maybe Dom and Grace were right.

  He eyed me over the rim of his coffee cup. “Hart, are you going to tell me why you got me out of bed or not?”

  “I get the feeling you don’t like me. You certainly don’t like my brother, Denim. And you have no reason to believe what I’m about to say. But I don’t want you to fly out of here without considering the consequences.”

  He slammed his cup down.

  The waitress cocked an eyebrow.

  Aside from the waitress, the two of us, and the cook in the back room who had poked his head out earlier, the diner was empty.

  Hughes pressed his elbows into the table, pushing his head forward. “Get to the point, Hart.” He was a second away from tearing me to shreds.

  I sat back. “I have reason to believe that you have a guy on your team that works for Miguel Rivera.”

  He didn’t move. His nicotine breath sprayed with spit. “What are you smoking?”

  You’re wasting time. Tell him quickly.

  I sighed. “Here’s the deal. You know Hunt Thompson. You seemed to like him when you saw him at my shelter. He has a source who says Rick is the rat. I need you to believe me, or at least try, because Maggie has been kidnapped.”

  His angular jaw bounced off the Formica tabletop. “You’re bullshitting me.”

  It was my turn to lean in. “Really? I got you out of bed to tell you lies? Listen, I want your help. But if you bring your team in on this, Maggie will be dead. Miguel told me that I couldn’t tell you about him kidnapping Maggie or where I’ll be meeting him”—I glanced at my watch—“in two hours and fifty minutes. And if I do, he’ll get a call, and then I’ll never see Maggie again. You’ll never either.”