"Then why the fuck you here?" the bolder, also younger and stupider, of the two asked.
Paine made some sort of growling noise low in his chest that effectively shut the kid up. The door behind them opened a second later, the other young kid behind a man who was taking up the whole doorway. My head snapped up and I felt a deep kind of knowledge settle in as I took in his familiar caramel-colored skin, his wide, strong body, his light eyes. There was no mistaking it, the leader of the Third Street Gang was Paine's fucking... brother.
From what I knew, he didn't have brothers, only sisters, sisters I had met.
I'd never heard a word about a brother.
But there he was.
"Long fuckin' time, Paine," he said, nodding his head.
"Not long enough," was Paine's response.
"Came here just to dish out attitude."
"Came here to find your supplier," he countered and his brother stiffened slightly.
"Ain't got no business in our business anymore."
"Became my business when Carlos stole Shoot's woman."
His face snapped to me, took in the gun in my hand. "The Shoot? As in Shooter?" he asked.
"Yup," was all I could manage.
"Enzo," he said, giving me a chin jerk before turning back to his brother. "Interesting friends you keep."
"Luis Carlos," Paine said, cutting through the crap. "He been through here?"
"Ain't your place to ask."
"Don't fuckin' test me, Enzo," Paine said and I could see his fist grip his gun harder and I realized whatever bad blood there was between those two went deep. "His woman was sittin' safe and sound in his apartment and that piece of shit gets in and drags her, got the fucking camera footage, drags her kicking and screaming out of it. So you cut the shit and you fuckin' tell me if your supplier has been through here today. If he asked about a safe place to hide out for a while."
"Why would I do you any favors?"
"Because, mother fucker," he said, his voice positively lethal and all the men on the steps stiffened, "if you don't tell me in about ten seconds, I am going to call Breaker. And then I am going to call Hailstorm," he dropped and there were shared glances. "And finally, you stupid shit, I am going to call The Henchmen. Let me tell ya, nothin' will make me happier than tearing your shit apart."
"You really want to be making enemies?" Enzo asked, cool as could be, like that wasn't the most petrifying threat that had ever been uttered.
"I really don't want to fucking be here," he corrected. "But my boy's girl was taken and we want her back before that slimy piece of shit causes any damage that can't be fixed."
"You want me to turn on my supplier. You have any fuckin' idea what that would mean for business?"
"You being watched? You get that fucking lazy, man?" he asked and Enzo's eyes got smaller. "If you ain't bein' watched then no one knows we were here or why we were here. So stop dicking around and point me in a direction or maybe I'll let you and your boys find out how Shooter got his name."
"Gotta tell ya," I agreed, nodding, rubbing the muzzle of the gun across my temple, "if there's a day when I could use to shoot someone, this is it..."
Enzo exhaled a pained breath. "Down on Madison," he finally supplied.
"Building," Paine demanded.
"All you're getting," Enzo countered, crossing his arms over his chest. And, judging by the way Paine jerked his head, Enzo meant business. That was all we were getting. But it was something. It was a direction. It cut out the countless other streets in the area.
"Let's go," I said, nudging Paine.
"Yeah," he agreed, giving Enzo another hard look before turning and making his way back to his car while I dragged my phone out of my pocket.
"Lo, find me some place on Madison where they could be keeping her."
"On it," she said, snapping and relaying the order to her people.
I hung up, turning slightly as Paine whipped the car into a neck-achingly fast K-turn, and studied his hardened profile. "You alright, man?" I asked cautiously. I got a tight nod. "Sorry you had to come here..."
"Didn't have to do it," he corrected, shaking his head, each foot further away from the neighborhood making him relax more and more. "I wanted to do it. I like your girl, man. Want you to be able to have her around. Definitely don't want that piece of shit dealer with his hands on her."
"I appreciate it, Paine. Know that wasn't easy for you."
Then his head twisted and a small humorless smile toyed with his lips. "Bound to happen sooner or later. I'm just glad it happened in a way that was at least productive." He took in my face and his tone softened. "Shoot, it's still only been minutes. No more than forty. We have a street. We have the best in the area on finding a building. We're gonna get her back."
"Yeah," I agreed, not bothering to mention all the heinous, awful things that could happen to anyone, especially a woman in the span of forty minutes. Paine didn't need that; he already knew and it wouldn't help either of our moods to bring it up.
It was strange for me to feel the endless pit of fear and worry inside. I was never that guy. I was the guy who, as Breaker would put it, was "incapable of taking serious shit seriously". I didn't get worked up. I certainly never got practically crippled by it. Even among the chaos of shit I had been involved in personally and professionally, I always managed to stay calm, keep my wits, go in cool.
All of that was ripped away with the endless loop of a flailing, screaming, terrified Amelia being torn away from the place she thought was a safe haven playing through my head. I never should have left her alone, not even for five minutes. What the fuck had I been thinking being too busy playing house with her to remember she was in fucking danger? She was paying the price because I didn't have my fucking head in the game. If anything happened to her... anything... I would never forgive myself for it.
Then a thought crossed my mind that had a strange, unfamiliar tightening feeling squeezing in my chest: she was right to think she didn't belong. She was a good girl; I lived in a bad world. I called people friends who had connections in street gangs, who beat people for a living, who could assemble a small, lawless army within minutes of a call. She wasn't ever going to be as safe with me as she would be with another man, someone with a vanilla job, someone who didn't need to carry a gun on their body at all times.
When I got her free, when I fixed her situation, I had to let her go. It was selfish to keep her when I knew I was no good for her.
That tightening thing in my chest intensified and I gritted my teeth, realizing that it was a feeling I was going to be intimately acquainted with once all was said and done.
Fuck.
Eighteen
Amelia
I wasn't hooded. Heck, there wasn't even tinting on the windows of the car I had been shoved into. I guess what did it matter to them if I saw what we passed when I wasn't familiar with any of it anyway? I was wedged between Luis' two big goons in the backseat, their bodies touching me from shoulder to toes. I couldn't even wiggle, let alone fight. In the front, another one of Luis' men was driving; he himself was sitting passenger. There was a sad Spanish song on the radio and the man to my left was humming along. It was all so... normal. It was like they did this kind of thing every day; kidnapping unsuspecting women didn't seem to bother them in the least.
I had fought originally. Back in Johnnie's kitchen, I had flailed, kicked, hit, slapped, clawed, and bit. It wasn't that I actually knew what I was doing; I didn't. I was stalling. I was trying to give it a couple minutes for Johnnie to come home, to come in guns blazing, to save the day. I knew, I just knew he would do that. But then Luis got sick of my struggling and his two mountains of muscle came in, each grabbing me by an arm and dragging me out of the only place I had any hope of being safe in.
When we hit the street, I started fighting again, harder, screaming so loud that my throat felt like I was swallowing razorblades, trying to draw attention from people on th
e street. But we were only on that main drag for a few seconds before I was being pulled down a side street toward a waiting car.
That brought us up to right then, driving down a really seedy looking town, making me almost feel a little grateful that there were four big men around me. That was ridiculous, of course, seeing as I had no idea what Luis had in store for me. For all I knew, these men who made me feel momentarily safe from the dangerous streets were planning on raping, beating, and killing me. I didn't want to think Luis was capable of that. I had spent many hours across a table from him, discussing little things, being somewhat annoyed by his arrogance and his need to order for me, but otherwise not entirely unpleasant.
Then, one had to factor in that his interest in me wasn't actually about me at all. I was just a body double. I was the doppelganger of some girl who overdosed on heroin to get away from him. And that, well, that didn't exactly say good things about how Luis treated her, did it?
I let out a sigh that made Luis turn slightly in his seat. "What's wrong, darling?"
Augh. Gross.
"Things are a bit... tight back here," I said instead, trying and failing to free my shoulder from behind the big guy to my right.
"Yes, sorry about that Amelia. But it won't be for too much longer."
I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be comforting or not. I dropped my gaze to my lap because I was pretty sure if my eyes connected with any of theirs, they would see my very strong urge to skin them all alive... with a very dull knife. I'd never considered myself a violent person. I had never been in a fight. I had never fantasized about hauling off and hitting someone. I had certainly never felt the urge to flay someone before. But, then again, I had never been kidnapped and made an accomplice to a drug-related felony either. So, yeah, I was feeling a wee bit murderous.
That being said, I wasn't stupid enough to even think that was a possibility. I was out-manned by people who could probably break me like a twig if they needed to. So I had to settle for what little damage I had already inflicted. That included the claw marks at the guy on my left's cheek and a pretty nasty looking bite mark on the back of Luis' hand. It wasn't bad. At least I knew I got the better of them albeit for a very small amount of time. That was something to be proud of.
I paid attention when we passed street signs just in case, on the off chance that I got away, I could call the police and tell them where I was. Jefferson turned into Anderson which turned into Madison. That was when Luis said something in clipped Spanish to the driver, who nodded. I was suddenly really annoyed that my father ran off and my mother was too drunk to teach me Spanish. That would have come in handy. But whatever was said made the driver slow the car and duck his head slightly to look at the buildings. He pulled out front of what looked like a old apartment building, looked at Luis, said something else in Spanish, his brows drawn together as he waved toward the building. Whatever was being said didn't sound too happy, but Luis shrugged a shoulder and moved to open his door.
All I could think as I looked out the window at him was how ridiculous he looked, how out of place. He had on cream-colored slacks and a white, short-sleeve linen shirt and brown sunglasses on his eyes. Dressed like that standing outside of a building that looked like it hadn't had any work done in the better part of thirty years, he looked downright laughable. At my sides, both guards went out their respective doors. The one on my right turned back in toward me as the one on my left slammed his door and rounded the front of the car.
Alright, even as I was doing it, I knew it probably wouldn't lead anywhere, but I couldn't bring myself to simply be a good little hostage either. So I turned in my seat, bringing my legs up and slamming them full-force into the bent body of the guard then scrambled backward for the other door, ripping it open, and tearing out onto the street. My bare feet slapped on the pavement, the heat a searing sensation that I ignored as I ran blindly down the street, screaming so loudly the sound racked through my whole body.
I heard the shouts behind me and knew just enough Spanish to know they were curses as I tore down a side street that ended up not being a side street, but an alley, the kind that didn't have a way out.
A hysterical shriek ripped from my throat as I spun in a circle, looking up for anything I could lift myself up with. But there was nothing. I was trapped. Then there was nothing because I was crashed into from behind and slammed up against the brick wall, the pain instantaneous and blinding for the second of consciousness I was granted before oblivion stole me away.
--
The pain was what woke me up. I had been drifting in the black sea of nothingness, feeling calm and happy, only to have my perfect peace interrupted by the nagging impression of pain. My eyes flickered open and the 'impression' of pain became an all-encompassing thing. I was pretty sure my brain was somehow slamming up against the inside of my skull over and over, the sensation so strong I felt it like a piercing through my eyes, making me feel suddenly more nauseated than I had ever been in my life.
I closed my eyes again on a groan, moving to bring my hands up to cradle my head when I realized I couldn't because they were tied around whatever was pressed up against my back. My eyes snapped back open, ignoring the pain the light through the windows was causing, and angled my head up to look behind me. It was an exposed brick beam holding up the ceiling. The sharp edges of the bricks on the corners were slicing into my forearms and my shoulders were screaming at the awkward position.
My legs were free and I pulled them inward and up under my butt, pushing myself up off the floor, biting my lip to keep from crying out as the mortar between the bricks sliced long lines across my arms. Standing, I could see out the line of windows to my left. Some were broken; all were covered in years worth of grime, dulling the blinding afternoon light. How long had I been out? It couldn't have been later than eleven when I was taken. But the way the sun was pelting down at the world, it had to be closer to two or three in the afternoon.
The room itself wasn't what I had expected from the outside. It looked like an apartment building, but the floor I was on had been gutted. All that was left was the exposed brickwork, the beams in the ceiling, and the windows.
I heard a creak and footsteps, taking a deep breath that was both to calm my nerves and an effort to keep the bile down as I turned to see Luis walking toward me, his movements as polished and purposeful as I remembered, his posture straight, his hands clasped behind his back, his gait unhurried.
"Darling," he greeted, still crossing the floor that was littered with forgotten items, like maybe people had been squatting there. "You've been out for almost two hours; I was getting concerned."
I fought the urge to tell him that maybe he shouldn't have let his goon slam me into a wall then. "My head hurts," I said instead, and it did. I swear the pounding could be felt all through my jaw at that point.
Luis stopped in front of me, his lips pressed together as he looked at me. His hand raised and brushed down the side of my face that had collided with the wall. "I bet it does. I'm sorry about all of this, Amelia."
"The splitting migraine or the kidnapping?" I snapped, wincing at myself. I didn't know much about being a hostage, but I did know you were supposed to try to not tick them off.
"Both," he said, shrugging. "Darling, you must understand that I had to come and get you."
"Why?" I asked, and it came out a bit like a whine.
"You weren't thinking straight, Amelia. You were grieving and that... slime took advantage of your grief. He weaseled his way in and made you think he was a good man. He's not a good man. He will use your body and then he will dump you like all the rest."
Alright. Hold up.
This wasn't about the heroin? He didn't know I knew? He was annoyed because he thought I was choosing Johnnie over him? That was, well, that was good. At least I was pretty sure that was good.
"Had no chance really. Came from trash. Of course he would turn out to be garbage himself." I felt my face twist up wi
th an ugly kind of anger. Seeing this, Luis' face softened a bit. "I know you thought you loved Ben, Amelia. But Ben Allen was not a good man. Do you know how I know that?" I shook my head, deciding engaging him in conversation at least seemed to be keeping me relatively safe. "Because Ben Allen was dealing heroin."
"He was not!" I practically screamed, my body launching forward of its own mind only to get about an inch before my shoulders screamed and I fell back against the beam.
"Darling, he most certainly was."
"Like you're one to judge!" I spat, my eyes going huge as soon as the words were out of my mouth. Shoot. Shoot shoot shoot. I just lost whatever advantage I had.
Luis' face didn't curl in anger though, if anything he almost looked... intrigued. His head cocked to the side, a brow raised. "So he's been filling your head with his opinions now has he?"
"It's not an opinion to call a drug dealer a drug dealer. It's a fact."
Luis ignored me and went on instead. "Then please, allow me to fill your head with some other things to consider."
"Like how you had Johnnie shoot your old boss?"
"I met Ben Allen about four years ago. Pathetic drunk. Positively useless. I wanted nothing to do with him. But then I watched as you got him clean, dragged him out of his downward spiral. I saw a lot of potential in him..."
I didn't want to hear this. I had the foolish, childish desire to stick my fingers in my ears and hum so I couldn't listen. Of course, my arms were behind my back so I couldn't do that.
"He had burned his bridges with all the reputable businesses in town. He needed money. And, well, I needed someone in town who would fly under the radar. He was a very good employee. Until he wasn't..."
Killer Page 19
