Lies and Illusions

by Avelyn Paige

  “That’s right. I seem to have something in my possession that you might also want.”

  “Is she alive?” Mikey inquires. He’s playing this smart. This isn’t his first rodeo dealing with murderers and thieves. Proof of life is the first thing you need to establish, when dealing with kidnapping. That much I had learned from watching my father. The dead are of no value. The living were worth a hundred times that.

  “I want to make you a deal,” Gio offers. “The girl for your sister.”

  No, Mikey. Don’t do it. Please, I’m not worth Ginny’s life.

  I squirm and my chair squeaks, as I do. Gio’s eyes flash up to me. His finger cuts across his throat, as a warning to shut up.

  “You’ll have to be more specific. We have a lot of girls around here. You in the market for pussy?” Mikey deflects. Good. Keep him talking. V is no doubt on the other side of the call trying to trace it. My heart skips a beat, when I think of his face listening to this all go down. Is he thinking about me?

  “Don’t be daft, Mr. Sanders. You know damn well what girl I’m talking about. Your sister’s travelling companion. She’s told us oh so much about her.”

  Lie. My brother has to know that.

  “I want proof of life, before we discuss the particulars.”

  Gio looks to me.

  Shit. What do I say?

  “She’s right here, Michael. Why don’t you say hello?”

  “Presley?” his voice shakes. “Are you okay?”

  I remain silent, until Gio nods.

  “Mikey,” I cry out.

  I can hear his sigh over the phone in relief. He thought the worse, and I just put his fears to rest.

  “Don’t do this, Mikey,” I beg him. Gio’s face flashes with rage. He nearly runs from the end of the table toward me. His hand flies backwards in the air and comes down in a fist across my face, as he throws a haymaker. I feel bones crack under the force of it. Blood cascades from his fist onto the floor next to me. My mouth fills with the disgusting metallic taste. I spit it out onto his pristine floor, and return to look up at Gio.

  You will not break me.

  “Shut up,” he yells. “You know the consequences.”

  “Don’t touch her.” I hear V’s voice break through from the other side of the call. “Don’t you fucking touch her.”

  “Shut up,” my brother hisses to him. Hearing his voice sets my spirit on fire.

  “Don’t trade her for me,” I yell again, bracing for the hit that comes with my insubordination of Gio’s only command. His strike this time is harder, knocking the air right out of my lungs.

  “Stop!” Mikey yells. “We’ll agree to the trade.”

  “Coming to your senses. That’s much better. I’ll send you a location.”

  “No. You’ll come to me, and I want to see my sister, before the trade. Up close.”

  “And why do you think that I would agree to that?” Gio huffs, returning to the head of the table with my blood dripping from his knuckles. “Do you think that I’m stupid enough to come on your turf?”

  “Our turf or no deal.

  He’s leveling the playing field. Home turf advantage will put them in a well-protected and secluded area. He can control it, even if he can’t control the rest of the situation. My brother knows that I’m ready to die, but he won’t give up on the chance to save me. His stubborn pride will fight, until the last drop of his blood spills to the ground. Yet he’s still angling for something as the conversation continues. What is he hiding?

  “I have a stipulation, if I agree to this. My men can search your grounds. No guns. No cops. The clubhouse will be empty and the girl outside. Do you agree to these terms?” Silence fills the room for what seems like an eternity.

  “Do you agree?” Gio asks again.

  “I agree. Tomorrow at noon.” Mikey concedes, before the line goes dead.

  The room of men all erupt in a joyful glee. Each of them has smiles plastered on their faces a mile long. Celebrating their victory of wills over my brother. Gio stalks back toward me, and grabs my face with his hand. The pain shoots from my open wounds on my face, as he brings me to look him in the eye.

  “Tomorrow, we get the girl, then kill your brother’s club in front of you. You will watch, until every one of them is dead, then it will be your turn.”

  I didn’t sleep last night.

  Not one fucking wink.

  Counting sheep didn’t even help.

  Believe me I tried, but knowing that today was the end of all this shit for Presley and for Ginny put my mind in a nightmare tail spin. The possibilities of how this would end were endless. She could live, or Ginny could die. Maybe vice versa, we could all die. There was no way this ended without bloodshed. Anyone who believed or hoped for that was lying to themselves. Someone would pay for this with their life. That was the only certain in a sea of uncertainties.

  As soon as my eyes closed, I saw their bodies riddled with cuts, bruises, and bullet wounds bleeding out in front of me. Presley’s skin once so beautiful had traded its luster for a dull, lifeless yellow and blue of dead, rotting flesh. Her milky eyes staring up at me for help. No. Sleep wasn’t for me. I refuse to allow my last memory of her to be that of a nightmare.

  Instead, I spent most of the night pacing the floor, trying to find an alternative out of this mess that I had caused. Presley didn’t deserve to be put into this predicament in the first place. She should be safe by my side. Hearing Gio beating her over the phone broke me. The visions of him laying his hands on her beautiful flesh would haunt me for the rest of my life, however long that might be.

  Raze had a plan, and it was a good one. One of the best ones we’d ever had in fact. It was smart. Unexpected. One that Gio wouldn’t be able to anticipate, but it had its flaws. Raze was relying on Gio’s blind need for Ginny to cloud his mind enough to not see it coming. It was a risk.

  A risk that I wasn’t willing to take with Presley’s life. I thought about the different angles we could take. Was there some avenue I wasn’t considering? The hours of pacing cleared my mind, and I formed a plan of my own. It’s not necessarily better than Raze’s plan, but it would tip this fight into our favor at a price. A price that I was willing to pay as long as my girl, my brothers, and Ginny walked away from this.

  The clubhouse was eerily silent, as I leave Presley’s room and stalk to my office. A man wouldn’t often admit to needing their woman in front of their brothers, but I did. Raze didn’t want me to be in her room, but I needed her scent around me. She almost felt close again lying in the bed that I shared with her for so many nights. I remember the way she smiled at me, when I kissed her goodbye in the morning. The way she sounded just before the brink of an orgasm. The sweet taste of her lips that I hope to one-day kiss again. Those are the happy thoughts I cling to now.

  The closer I get to my office I think about how things will be, when we get her back. Will she still be pissed at what I did? Will she even consider forgiving me? I could live with her hating me for the rest of our lives as long as she was free? My life would be pointless without her in the world, and that’s why I have to do this. Her life for mine was a trade I was willing to make, and make it I would.

  I close the door to my office, once I step inside. My computers are still working trying to find another solution, but the time for that option is now gone. I failed at the one job I was good at for the first time. I didn’t pretend that I was God’s gift to the computer world, but at the end of the day this was a low blow. The thought of trying one more time pushes forward in my mind, but it’s futile. The devil was coming to our doorstep in just a few hours. Time was the most precious thing I still had left, and I wouldn’t waste it on trying to do the impossible. I was bested, and I had to own that, even if my pride refused to do so.

  I pull my phone from my pocket, and dial the number I had sworn to never use, even if I needed Batman to kill the Joker. That’s how far I was willingly to go down the rabbit hole to ensure this ends in our favor. T
he call goes through, and an answering service picks up on the second ring. I ask the operator to direct my call to the man I seek. She relents after I give her a few pieces of information that I knew would fast track me right to him. The right words for the worst situation.

  “Hello?” his gruff voice answers.

  “I want to make a deal,” I say into the receiver.

  Our conversation lasts nearly an hour. My contact was reluctant at first to agree to my plan, but after I sweeten the deal, he agrees. The key is knowing the right words to say and how to play the cards you have in order to win the hand. He took what I had to offer, and ran with it. Now it was in his hands to follow through with it. I had made my bed, and I would lie in it, when the time comes. I slide to the floor when I hang up, as I realize what I just did. My trust in my brothers was unwavering, but I needed this to be an absolute. Like Presley, the apologies would have to wait, until after the fact.

  I tinker around in my office, making additional preparations for the deal I just made. My wheelie chair is in constant motion for nearly two hours, before a knock comes at my door.

  “Prez is looking for you, V,” Hero says through the door.

  “Be out in a few, VP,” I answer him, as I click on last button and send a back up to our server offsite for safekeeping. The mouse flies over the screen, as I pull up a program that I designed for such an occasion. The red wedding box of doom pops up on the screen. I hesitate, when I see it.

  “It’s for the best,” I mutter to myself, before clicking it. Lines of code scroll down rapidly. One line after another, before the monitors systematically go black. Every trace of our past history is gone. Hidden away from prying hands for safekeeping. If I die, Raze would be sent the location to the secure server with instructions on how to retrieve the information. A system that had been set-up from the very beginning of my time here. Life always seemed to find a way to pull the rug out from underneath a person in their prime, so I made plans long before this day had ever come.

  I take one last look around my office, before shutting the door on it for likely the last time.

  Be good girls to the next person who fondles your keys.

  The meeting and main rooms are packed to the brim of my brothers from my club and others in the area, when I finally step into it. When Raze’s call for help went out, they answered in full force. Our numbers swelled nearly reaching sixty men ready to fight in less than a few hours.

  I notice Raze exiting Church with the presidents and vice-presidents of the other chapters present here today. His face is stern, yet oddly calm. He too had obviously prepared himself for the worst. He looks to me and nods.

  Though this was my fault, he wouldn’t hold it against me, until the dust settled. He would be angry, of that I have no doubt, but he would be proud of me for protecting my family.

  Ratchet limps into the room from his sickbed, and hobbles to one of the couches not fully occupied. He spies me, and motions me over to him.

  “You should have gone with the girls, cripple dick,” I tease.

  “Like hell. Not with Ginny here. Besides, I can’t let you guys have all the fun.”

  “She ready?” I ask. His face falls from mentioning her. Like Raze and I, he has a personal reasoning for worrying about this meet.

  “As much as she can be.”

  He pauses, looking back down the hallway where she sits waiting. Is she doing the same thing that Presley is right now? Praying for a miracle? As to where Ginny is well protected, Presley’s fate would be much different, if it was as bad there as it sounded on the phone. My fists clench at my sides, when I think about her cries of pain. If I got the chance to put Gio down, I wanted the kill shot. He would die at my hand for the shit he did to her.

  “You ready?” Ratchet says, breaking the silence of my mental escape into dark thoughts.

  “Yup,” I reply. “Just like old times. Say, do you remember the first time you and I went on a run?”

  He laughs, shaking his head at the memory. Raze had given me to Ratchet for my virgin club business trip, after one of the club girls who used to darken our doors came back nearly beaten to death. Her lowlife boyfriend had taken his fists to her because his dinner wasn’t warm enough, while he was tweaked out of his mind. Gigi had been one of the club’s favorite girls, and Raze wanted the problem to end for her.

  “You mean you nearly shooting your fucking foot off, when he charged at you?”

  “I told you. There was cat dander in my eyes from that fucking four-legged terror she had. It slipped,” I defend myself.

  “Years later and you still won’t accept the fact that you nearly pussied out.”

  “Did not.”

  “Did so.”

  We both laugh. Not a forced laugh, but a good old belly laugh. The few guys standing around us, look at us like we were clinically insane for laughing when doom was headed our way, but I needed this. Just a chance to remember the good times, before they went to shit.

  “I need to thank you, Ratch.”

  “For what? Getting shot?” he questions. “Because I sure as fuck didn’t want to do that.”

  “No, not that. I mean for helping me find my way here. I doubt that I could have done that without you and Jagger here to help me. I wasn’t exactly the kind of guy you wanted for the club, but you still voted for me.”

  “Where is this all coming from, V?” Ratchet asks, with a hint of skepticism dripping off his gravelly voice.

  “Can’t a man tell another man he appreciates him?”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me. “What have you done, V?”

  Even now, Ratchet can see through my bullshit barrier to know that something is up. It was beginning to get a little scary with how well he knew how my mind ticked. Maybe I should leave a note for Presley to schedule some sessions with him later. He might have caught my screw is loose syndrome. I smile, shaking my head.

  “Nah, brother. Everything’s fine. Just trying to shake off the bad shit, before the even worse shit hits us.”

  The look on his face is one of disbelief, but he doesn’t press the matter any further. I notice Raze moving to the center of the room, as a loud whistle of attention rips from between Hero’s fingers in his mouth.

  “I want to say a few words, before The Zezza’s get here,” he starts. “Over twenty years, I have been a Heaven’s Reject. Not all of those years were easy, but we made it through them together. I could stand up here, and give you all an inspiring coach like speech, but we all know why we are here. When we take our oath and wear this patch,” he says holding up a vest with our crest and colors proudly on display. “We pledge ourselves to protect our club, our brothers, and our families. That’s where we find ourselves today. I want to thank each and every one of you for being here by my side, yet again.”

  Raze looks around the room, making eye contact with every single man standing with him. His brothers in blue and black and in arms. Behind him we are unified, ready to fight for our lives.

  “Today we face an enemy like no other. But in life and death, we are one. Together, we leave this clubhouse to meet our maker. And together, we will rise or fall.”

  The men erupt in loud cheers and claps. The tension filling the room is cut in half, and an odd sensation of calm takes over. Brother after brother line up to shake Raze’s hand, reaffirming their commitment to this club, until the sound of our trip wire for the front entrance wails. We all look to each other, knowing what that means.

  “Showtime, motherfuckers!” one of my brothers screams out, as we all start for the door.

  In the early morning hours, a woman enters my room. Her raven hair blends into the darkness of the room making her seem almost ethereal in the softening dawn lights, peeking through the window. Hues of orange and pink ring her body, as if she’s wrapped in a dawn halo. The softness of her footfalls doesn’t make a noise, as she approaches me. She leans down, and whispers something in the same foreign language as my guards.

  “I don’t understand,”
I say to her.

  “Come,” she says with a heavy accent. Her small hands untie the bindings away from my wrists and feet that held me hostage in my bed. I slide my feet off the bed. The coolness of the floor shocks my system against my bare soles. The woman reaches for my hands, and I catch a glimpse of her brown eyes. Sadness and pity fill them, obviously directed at my status here.

  Is she a prisoner here as well?

  I push to my feet, stumbling as I find my footing, and pad along after her outside the door. The guards that normally flank my doors are gone. The door grows smaller and smaller with the distance she pulls me away.

  “Where are you taking me?” I whisper to her, but she doesn’t respond. She soon stops us outside of a door, and uses a key to unlock it. She gestures for me to go in first. I hesitate for fear this is just another trap of Gio’s to get me to break. She gestures again, but this time she smiles. Do I go in? She doesn’t seem as if she’s a threat to me with her small stature and gentle nature, but this could be a façade to make me feel safe.

  “Please,” she urges. What do I have to lose if I do as she asks? It’s not as if my life could be saved at this point. I seriously doubt that this woman would be the means of my escape. I step into the room, and I hear the click of the light switch behind me. The room illuminates, and my eyes grow wide. I’m in a bathroom. She locks the door behind me, and steps around me, gesturing to the shower that sits in the corner of the room across from the toilet.

  “Please,” she urges again.

  “You want me to take a shower?” I ask, confusion clear as day on my face. What’s the point of cleaning up, when I’m just going to die later? This makes absolutely no sense. The woman nods her head, stepping forward into the stall and turning on the shower. A stream of water bursts from the nozzle. Steam soon begins to fill the room.

  “You clean,” she orders a little more forcibly this time. Her hands start for the dress I have worn for the past several days. It sticks to my skin from the blood and sweat, and it hurts, as she peels it away from my body. She looks over me with even more pity, before ushering me into the shower. The hot spray stings, as soon as it hits the open wounds on my face. I hiss at the sensation, turning away from it. My eyes fall down my body. Cuts and bruises mark just about every limb of my body. Streaks of dried blood cascade down my body from the bra and panties I still have on. I look like someone’s personal punching bag. I reach up to touch my face with my hands, only finding more cuts and extreme swelling on my cheek from Gio’s attack for my disobedience yesterday.