by K. L. Savage
Tongue smiles and then whips his head from Reaper to Patricia, his shaggy hair slinging as he prowls to her. He lifts her over his shoulder and runs away, disappearing out the doors.
“I need everyone to check all the rooms. I think she drugged a lot of people, and someone is on their way for them. I know it’s a lot to ask for, Prez, but these are people like me—”
“Say no more. Everyone spread out. We need to hurry before anyone shows up, and if someone shows up, shoot to kill.”
No questions. No hesitation. No regrets.
This is the family I’ve been needing.
All that’s missing is Sunnie.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
SUNNIE
I wake up with an urgent breath, and my head spins. “Ooof!” I moan and lift my hand to the side of my head to help me stop moving. I’m about to fall to the floor. Whatever they dosed me with wasn’t heroin, and I’m so damn thankful. I want to have a clear head and figure out how to get out of here.
What I’m lying on is soft, comfortable, like velvet, and I blink away the sleep in my eyes to get a better look at my surroundings. “What in the…” Nothing surprises me much these days, but where I’m at does.
I don’t know where I am, but the place is beautiful. I expected a rundown room with chains, whips, and blood. That’s not it at all. The ceilings are cathedral high, and the architecture looks Greek or Roman. The floors are enriched with the blood red color and while it might look beautiful, that’s where it ends.
There are gold cuffs attached to my feet, and I’m wearing a pastel pink teddy that has a plunging neckline. If I wasn’t so afraid, I’d appreciate the expensive material against my skin, but I have no idea who put it there.
Whoever did undressed me, and that does not sit well with me.
I look to my left and there are rows of beds with a glass wall separating us. A mini-room of sorts. There are women in every single bed. There is a dozen on this side and a dozen on the other.
The chandelier in the middle of the room reminds me of the one I saw at the rehab center. It’s huge, polished until all that’s left for it to do is glitter. The glass between me and the other two girls, who are passed out, turn from clear to frost.
Well, this just keeps getting better.
I keep my eyes on the door, which is also made of glass, but it’s frosted, and I can’t see through it. I wait. The knob turns, and I hold my breath to see if it’s Tom, Lundon, or Ross. I’m ready to fight for my life. I’m getting out of here. I don’t care what I have to do.
The door swings open, and my mouth drops to my chest. “Loch?”
He doesn’t look sly, he doesn’t look crude or ready to kill. He has emotion swimming in his eyes as he stares at me. He blinks fast, and I wonder if he’s about to blurt something when an electric shock sounds, and he freezes.
“Oh my God,” I say with horror when I see the collar wrapped around his neck. “Loch, what did they do to you?”
He steps inside and shuts the door. My heart pounds as he comes closer to the bed. Is he going to fuck me? I hold my breath, hoping he sits in the chair next to me.
Oh, thank God.
“Loch, what are you doing here?’ He’s wearing a suit like Tom, expensive and cut to his frame.
“Damn it, shit. Pussy. No!” He drops his head in his hands and tries to take a few breaths to calm down, and then his body jerks back, and he spasms. His neck strains, and spit drools down his chin. The collar around his neck buzzes, and by the time it’s done, he is exhausted.
“Are you okay? What the hell are they doing to you? Why are you here?” I ask him.
“I…” He coughs. “Tom thinks it will help me with my Tourette’s. Fuck! Dick sucker!” he screams. “I’m here to take you to him. I’m sorry.” He looks away, and his fingers curl into his palm. “He has my sister, and as I long as I deliver you to him, he won’t hurt her. I’m sorry. Fucking stupid son of a bi-itch.” Another shock hits him, and I cover my mouth to swallow the horror I’m witnessing.
“I’ll go. It’s okay. You don’t have to talk to me. Just take me to the bastard.” I can’t imagine Loch ever being behind Tom to support a business like this. It depraves women, and from the sound of it, he hates to do what Tom says, but what else is he supposed to do? If I were in his shoes, I’d do the same thing.
With shaky legs, he figures out a way to stand and reach into his pocket to retrieve a gold key. He unlocks the chain from the gold bedpost, but the cuffs stay hooked to my ankles as if I’m a prisoner.
I am a prisoner.
I hold onto Loch’s arm, and he gives me a small smile that is anything but reassuring. It makes me more uneasy. My feet sink into the plush carpet, and while I’m walking down the mile-long aisle, I notice gold fans, gold plants, gold fucking everything. The glass to the rooms are still frosted and masculine groans are coming from a few of them. I set my jaw and blink away tears.
I know whatever is happening behind those doors is not consensual. Or maybe it’s a woman who wants to be a prostitute; I don’t know. If it isn’t, what’s happening here isn’t okay. It will always happen unless men like Tom are stopped.
Loch tightens his arm around me, a way to try to bring me comfort since he can feel my unease. He knows what is bothering me, and it’s bothering him too.
“I thought you got protection from the club?” I whisper before we pass a few guards, dressed in black suits and ties. They have earpieces in, and I don’t miss how their eyes roam my body. My skin prickles, and the instinct to run has never been as strong as it is now.
Once we have put a few feet between the guards, he sighs. “I do, but Tom came to me and threatened if I didn’t work for him, he’d take my sister. I can’t have this happen to her. Bitch, pussy slut!”
“Pussy slut? Now that is something I haven’t heard before.” I want to put him at ease, but it’s easier said than done.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats.
“You don’t have to say sorry every time you burst out in curse words. It’s okay.”
“It’s not the only thing I’m sorry for.”
The chains between my legs jingle as we come to a stop, and he presses a red button for the elevator. The doors slide open, and Loch ushers me inside with his hand in the middle of my back. He’s been nothing but respectful. I’m half-naked in a sexy outfit, and his eyes have never left my face.
Loch leans over, the smell of his cologne hits my nose, and I immediately turn my head. He smells good, but he doesn’t smell as good as Patrick. If I think about him right now, I’ll lose it. I have to keep it together, and knowing I’ll probably never see him again is going to ruin me.
I look at myself in the mirror wall of the elevator. I’m wearing makeup: thick mascara, pink lipstick, and red blush. How was someone able to put that on me while I was asleep?
The elevator lifts in awkward silence, and I scratch the inside of my arms watching the floor numbers get higher, taking me to my new future.
The ding to the rest of my life sounds as the doors slide open. All there is at the end of the hall is a door. On either side of the door, which is circular instead of rectangular, two men stand guard. The lights are turned down low, and the carpet is blood-stained to match the carpet downstairs.
More gold glimmers along the trim. If it wasn’t for the situation, I would feel like I was in a fairy tale with how beautiful this place is.
“Delivery for Mr. Hurst,” Loch says in a clear, un-cursed sentence.
Good for him.
The guard opens the door while the other shoves me. Loch doesn’t get to say bye because the door is slammed shut.
I gulp and wrap my arms around my waist.
“You look stunning, Sunnie.”
Tom’s voice crawls over my skin like a rush of cockroaches. I want to scrub my skin until it’s raw, sore, and bleeding to make sure Tom is erased from me.
“Fuck off, Tom,” I sneer. “You’re disgusting. When Patrick finds you—”
“When Patrick finds you—” he mocks me and flips on another light.
I stumble back and put as much space between me and the stranger standing next to Tom. He’s huge. A hulk of a man. His beard is unruly and long. His hair is receding, but the length is just as long as his beard, only stringy and thin. He lifts up his hands and waves his stumps at me.
Oh my God.
It’s him.
It’s the guy who killed Patrick’s sister. It has to be. I don’t know of any other criminals who had their hands chopped off by a shovel. I think I’m going to puke or faint. No, I can’t faint. I need to keep my head on straight. I can do this. I won’t let men break me again.
“I have a choice for you to make, Sunnie,” Tom’s fingers are pressed together in a steeple as he swings his chair halfway around in a circle.
The man with no hands hasn’t said a word. He’s hiding in the shadows, away from the light, but I can feel his eyes on me, raking up and down my body. I’ve never felt so exposed.
“What do you want, Tom?” I turn my head to the right when another door opens, and Lundon steps out shirtless and behind him follows Ross. The smell of pot wafts through the air, and a girl stumbles from behind Ross. She’s almost blue in the face. Her eyes are halfway shut and her hair is a tangled mess.
Her body is riddled in hickies, track marks in her arms, and cum is spread over her chest in thick drops.
I turn my head away, saddened that she has to live through this; broken that I’m about to live through it with her.
Death has never looked better than it does right now.
Ross drags the high woman across the floor, and she’s too out of it to notice me. She’s half naked, her breasts bouncing with every clumsy step she takes. He shoves her in front of Macy’s killer and pushes her to her knees.
I gag when his rubs his nubs over her head. She reaches for his pants as if she’s being controlled or a spell has been cast on her, but she’s that broken, that high, and has lost all will to try to fight her demise.
She slurps down his cock, and he groans, but he doesn’t let her control it. He starts to fuck her face until she’s gagging, choking, and instead of stopping, it fuels him.
I turn away, unable to watch the abuse because that’s what it is.
“What? You don’t like to watch? You used to? I remember a time when you couldn’t wait to get on your knees.” Ross grabs his cock through his pants and strokes himself.
“I can promise you, anything anyone every did to me, I didn’t want it. And whatever else you fucks made me do, I didn’t want to do it.”
“Doesn’t matter what you want. I own you, Sunnie. This is where your choice comes in.” Tom stands and buttons his blazer together casually, and he squeezes by the criminal and the girl, acting like it isn’t a big deal that he just brushed up against someone getting a blow job.
He sits on the edge of his desk and crosses his ankles over each other, and then he picks up a contract that has a syringe placed on top of it.
“You sign yourself away to me. You work here. No drugs if you don’t want. I’ve changed the business around. You only fuck me, Ross, and Lundon, and this guy. He’s our new partner.”
“Over my dead fucking body, Tom.”
He rubs a hand over his mouth and chuckles, kicking off the desk. In two long strides he’s in front of me, and he grips the back of my neck and slams his mouth on mine. I shove my hands against his chest to push him away, but he’s stronger than me.
I don’t kiss him back.
“We can arrange that, you ungrateful bitch,” he mutters against my lips. “Either take the fucking deal, or I will make sure Patrick is dead by tomorrow morning.” He moves to my ear and huffs a dead laugh. “I’ll chop off his cock and lay it at your feet. How about that? Does that make you see a little clearer?” He drives his fist into my stomach, and I fall over, struggling to breathe as my eyes water. My hip hits the floor, and I open my mouth to cry out, but the pain spreading through my abdomen doesn’t allow me to get air into my lungs.
“You have twenty-four hours to decide. Either way, you aren’t leaving this room until you’re ruined.”
Until I’m ruined?
Without a life, without Patrick, without any hope of living the life I’ve dreamed about, I am ruined.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PATRICK
We have raided all of the homes Tom has listed under his name, and no one was there. I’m dragging ass through the front door of the clubhouse, burnt out, hungry, thirsty, and that familiar itch to drink hits me because all I want to do is hold Sunnie in my arms again, smell her hair, see her happy fucking smile. I want to be driven insane again from her positivity. I want to break when I see her tears.
I want to fucking kiss her whenever I goddamn want, reminding me that the only drink I need is Sunnie.
I miss her.
Goddamn it, I miss her like I miss rum. She’s burnt her way through my veins, and it’s the kind of burn that lingers for a bit, making me wonder if I really need more, when the answer is always yes.
It’s the stress from not being able to find her, that’s all.
I finger the one token I have in my pocket. It’s stupid. It’s for staying sober for thirty days. An entire month. It’s nothing, but feeling it reminds me that I want more than thirty days. I want an entire lifetime.
“I’ll be damned, look what the cat dragged in,” Braveheart hollers and gives me a big welcome hug. “Damn, it’s good to see you. You look…” He cringes when he realizes what he said.
“It’s okay. I look like I’m dying. Don’t tread around me because I’m dying.” I slap his back in return.
“It’s good to see you.” Tank, the gentle giant, reaches out his hand and gives mine a quick shake, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “I got my test results back. I got tested as soon as I got the message. I’m not a match. I’m sorry.”
I pull him into a hug, but he doesn’t hug me back. I don’t think he knows how to hug. “Thanks for even thinking about doing something like that. It means a lot, Tank.”
“Sure,” he says. He lifts a massive arm and scratches the back of his head. “Okay.” He nearly runs toward the kitchen, needing to get away from the show of affection.
I toss my bag on the floor next to the pool table and eye the bar. I reach into my pocket and hold onto the chip and think of Sunnie. There’s no booze there, but it’s the memory, the ache, the want.
“It’s good to have you back,” Doc says. “How are you doing? Now that I know you’re out of treatment, you can get treated here. And we can always find a liver on the black mar—”
“No,” I finish for him. “I’m not living like that. No. No way. Don’t, Doc. I fucking mean it.” I grip his shirt with my fist and yank him closer. “No.”
“Okay.” He nods, unwrapping my hand from his shirt. I collapse onto a stool and take a breath.
“I got it! I fucking got it!” Badge shouts from the back of the house, but as he yells, his voice gets closer. “I got his location. I fucking got it.” Thwack! “Goddamn it! Stupid wall is always in my way.”
Doc chuckles. Badge bursts through the hallway, and he has a big red line on his forehead. “I got the location. He’s still in Vegas.”
“You mean Sunnie?” I stand so fast the stool falls out from under me.
“Yes. Look, she’s here. She has to be.” He rushes over to me along with everyone else and points his finger on the red dot. “The house isn’t under his name. It’s under a Goodwyn Lundon.”
“No way Lundon can afford it on his own. Tom definitely bought it. And look who he is with…” Badge spreads out a few more photos, and my blood runs cold.
Him.
Hester.
I grab the picture and memorize it. I see he has no hands, and a sick, gratifying warmth spreads through me. “He is mine. Does everyone understand? He is fucking mine!” I slam my fist down on the counter, and a wave of agony has me doubling over. If it isn’t f
or Doc catching me, I would have fallen to the ground.
After a few seconds, it disappears, and I’m able to stand again, but I’m dizzy and catch myself on the bar when I fall forward.
“You’re staying here,” Reaper says from behind me. “Everyone else get ready. We’re going to war. We’re going to get Sunnie, and we’re going to take that piece of shit Hester down.”
“No!” I yell from over him, undermining his authority. “You can punish me however you want, but Hester is mine. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. You aren’t taking that from me.”
The floorboards vibrate as Reaper stomps forward. “You can barely stand up straight. You need to be in the goddamn hospital.”
I point to Sarah. “What about your wife? What wouldn’t you do for her; tell me.”
I know the answer. He doesn’t have to tell me. The answer is anything. Everything. I’ll burn down the world if it means saving Sunnie. No one understands the connection she and I have. No one has been through addiction. The bond is different. It’s air fucking tight and without it, I’m slowly drifting into my old ways.
“We do this, that’s it. You’re on your way to the hospital. You look like shit. Your skin is turning yellow. And call Moretti’s brother; I want his men. I want backup. I want vans and trucks because the size of this place tells me there are going to be a lot of people there who need to be saved.” Reaper heads to the front door and everyone follows, passing the ol’ ladies. Reaper, Tool, Poodle, and Skirt kiss their women within an inch of their lives, and I don’t stick around to see the blitzed-out expressions.
“Come on. We’re taking the truck.” Doc slows his pace to match mine, and when I open the door and climb inside, I lean my head against the glass.
I watch all the bikes pull out of the dirt lot, sending clouds of dust in the air. Joanna’s on the porch, staring through the windshield at Doc. When I turn to him, he isn’t looking at her, but the pulse in his neck jumps. He jerks the truck into drive with more force than needed. I want to ask, but it’s none of my business.
