"What the—"
I open my eyes, and with a scream, I plunge the thick metal needle right into his throat. It connects with the flesh, the sharp tip sinking deep into his rough, red skin.
He lets out a horrified scream, clasping his hands to his throat, where the needle hangs halfway out of his neck.
"You junkie bitch!" He coughs and sputters, yanking the needle out of his neck, but the delay gives me the time I needed to get on my feet.
"I'm sorry," I say, as I pick up the metal pole holding the now-empty IV bag. I swing it hard, the top-heavy end connecting with the man's skull. One of the sharp hooks digs into his scalp, and blood sprays down onto the carpet. He staggers as I wrench the metal out of his scalp. The hook makes a tearing sound as it comes out of his skin, a noise that I didn't know human flesh could make. He wobbles toward me, pressing a hand against the flap of skin on his head. "I'm sorry," I repeat, and I crash the pole down onto him again. This time, he crumples to the ground.
I drop the pole, gazing at him. I've never wanted to hurt anyone before. And I didn't want to hurt him either. Guilt tugs at my heartstrings. But I have to do what I have to do to get out of here.
I rush downstairs, and go to the laundry hamper in the closet. I grab jeans and a t-shirt, and pull them on after shedding the gown I was wearing. I must smell like a donkey right now, but there's no time to shower. I've got to leave before Havok gets back.
My purse sits on the dining table, the spilled contents littering the table's surface. Havok clearly rooted through it while I was under. I cram all my stuff back into my purse as fast as I can. Then, I find my shoes by the door, slip them on, and escape out into the humid morning.
My first instinct is to get as far away from West Ark as I can. I don't know if Havok is telling me the truth or not, but somebody's going to be after me, whether it's the Bratva or him. The only sure thing is that I need to get far, far away.
I keep my head down as I walk through the West Ark downtown streets. Businessmen, couriers, mothers, and families pass me on the street. With my disheveled appearance, it occurs to me that I blend in better now than ever. I avoid eye contact with everyone, looking down at my feet.
There are still a few twenties in my purse from my last shift at Fascinations—Havok didn't take the money when he went through my stuff.
As I walk, I realize what I need to do. Mackenzie. I need to call her.
At the next convenience store I pass, I dip inside and purchase a prepaid phone. Mackenzie's number is one of the few I have memorized.
I dial her. There are a couple rings, then an automated voice.
"This number has been disconnected."
Fuck. She's had that number for years.
With a sinking feeling, I realize the possibility that they—the Bratva, Havok, whoever—must have gotten her too.
I jam the phone in my purse, then walk back onto the main sidewalk. But a hard, metal object presses into my side, and I stiffen. My head swivels.
Igor stands behind me. "Walk," he says, "or I shoot."
36
Havok
"Fuck," I say.
My bedroom looks like the aftermath of an axe battle. Earl sits on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed, a palm pressed against his scalp. A trail of blood leads down his neck, onto his shirt, and all over the floor. The blood on the floor is dark and dry; the blood on his head is still wet and sticky. It's a fucking mystery to me how he isn't dead. He looks like a lamb that's been to slaughter.
"What the fuck happened here?"
"The girl," he says, mumbling, "She hi... hit..." His head slumps down, chin to his chest. I tiptoe through the bloodstains on the carpet, then give him a hard smack on the cheek with a cupped hand. His head snaps back up with a start.
"She stabbed me with the IV," he says. "Got the jump on me." He nods toward the IV pole, now laying askew on the floor next to him.
Damn, she's a fighter. She's just fighting for the exact wrong thing.
I bellow, turn toward the wall, and put my fist completely through the plaster. My knuckles scream in pain, the sharp material digging away at my skin, making me bleed. But I don't fucking care.
"You useless son of a bitch," I say. I yank my hand out of the wall, and ball it up into a tight fist. "You had one job to do."
"My fuckin' job is a veterinarian," he says, glaring at me, still holding his palm against his bleeding scalp. "Not an enforcer."
"Pussy," I say. I spit at his feet.
I fucking know how the Bratva operates. And I know how people act in these situations. She's going to go back to West Ark where she's vulnerable, and they're going to find her. She's going to be dead, and after they find out I kept her here, I'm going to be dead.
Right now I just want fucking revenge. "Stay here," I say. I storm out of the room and go downstairs to my office, where my file drawer is still hanging open. The brass knuckles catch my eye. I haven't had a chance to test them out in ages. I grab them and slip them on my right hand. The brass is cool, hard, and unbending even against my tightest grip.
It's going to feel fucking great to put this through Earl's skull. To finish the job that Penny started.
I head back upstairs, into the bedroom. Earl is trying to stand, staggering to his feet.
Penny could be anywhere by now. Visions run through my head of her walking innocently along the street and being accosted by one of the thugs I work with. It boils my bones, turns my blood to acid. There's enough rage inside me to collapse a man's skull right now. Or five men. It wouldn't fucking matter.
"Aw, geez, Vlad, what the fuck are you doing?" Earl's eyes lock onto the shiny brass in my right hand. He gives up on standing, and falls to his knees again. "Don't do this," he says.
"Shut the fuck up," I say. I close my eyes, staring at the blood red colors on the insides of my eyelids. "Lay down. Nose to the ground. Hands straight out."
"Aw, geez, no," he says, starting to blubber.
"Oh, yes," I correct him. I get another urge to scream, to release the anger inside me, and I don't hold back. "Lay down, fucker," I say, screaming in his face. He complies.
I raise a boot and press the heel against his neck. The wound on his scalp is gruesome, and I can see what I think is bone through the mass of mangled skin.
"I'm gonna put you out of your misery, you piece of shit."
He's openly whining and crying now. "I fucking did what I was told," he says, snorting up snot.
"You let me down, Earl," I say. I bend down, putting my face close to his. "There's no forgiveness for failure. You know that."
He's losing it, whining and making noises that should only come from the animals that he treats in his vet clinic.
I raise my brass fist high above my head, tensing my muscles and preparing to hammer death down upon him.
Then I stop. This is fucking sick. Earl's an idiot, but he's not worth the fucking energy it would take to drag his body out of this house. And as furious as I am, he's not at fault for this. He didn't fail Penny. I failed her. Just like I failed Irina. My worst fear is repeating itself.
I slide the brass knuckles off my hand and chuck them hard through the window, shattering the glass. They fly out of the room, landing somewhere in the garden outside.
"Get the fuck out of here, Earl," I say.
He pushes himself up off the ground. "You sure?"
"No," I yell in his face. "So fucking get lost before I change my mind."
He scrambles up, finding a burst of sudden energy, and hightails it out of the room faster than I've seen him move in the last decade.
I go into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror. I'm disheveled. I'm a fucking mess. And I've failed Penny. She's going to be caught.
Fuck.
No. I can't let that happen.
I'm going to get her back, save her, and then figure this shit out once and for all. Get her out of this mess.
And if she doesn't fucking hate my guts, take her somewhere we
can be safe. Together.
37
Penny
The blindfold blocks out all the light. I can only feel, listen, and smell. And the things I take in through those senses are disgusting.
I'm sitting on a cold floor. It's damp, but not with water. More like with oil, or some other slippery substance. Crying and whimpering fills my ears, and the air smells of putrid, unwashed bodies. Probably not unlike my own.
I've lost track of how long it's been. After Igor found me on the street, I realized he was a part of this thing too. He took me to some Russian restaurant, and that's where they blindfolded and hogtied me. We went on a long drive. And where I am right now, I have no idea.
"H-hello?" I call out. Nobody's spoken a word since they put me in this room, wherever it is. I prepare myself for a blow, wondering if there's a guard in here.
But no blow comes. Instead, a female voice answers me. And it occurs to me that all the whimpering and crying in here is female.
"Penny?" Is that you?"
It's the unmistakable sound of Mackenzie's voice. It's both a relief and a horrifying discovery.
"Mackenzie? You're alive?"
"Oh, Penny," she says with a sniff. "They got you, too."
"Yeah," I say. "Looks like they did."
"Are you hurt?"
My head throbs something fierce now that all the medicine is out of my system. If I had any pills with me, I'd swallow them just to make the pain go away. But I don't.
"No," I say. "I don't think so."
I gather up my courage, and then tip my head to rub the blindfold against my shoulder. I keep waiting for a guard to swoop down and hit me, but it doesn't happen. Finally, I get the blindfold loose enough to shake off.
Sure enough, no guard. Just me and about a dozen other girls, all wearing dirty clothes and rags, strewn about the room like yesterday's trash. I recognize some of them, others I don't. A few of them are definitely from the club, but none that I knew as well as Mackenzie.
I struggle to my feet, my hands tied behind my back, and shuffle over to Mackenzie. I turn around so my tied hands are next to her head. "I'm taking your blindfold off," I say. I get my fingers under the fabric and yank it off her head, then sit down next to her.
I'm starting to shiver, and so is Mackenzie. The other girls are too. "Can you take mine off?" asks another girl.
Mackenzie and I help each other up, and then move around the room, granting the gift of sight to the other girls. Some of them gather with others, whispering quietly. Then Mackenzie and I sit down again next to each other, huddling for warmth.
"Mackenzie," I say, "You were right about all of this. The guys from the club, they're all in on it."
"I wanted to warn you," she says, "but it was too late by the time I figured it all out."
"It's okay."
We sit in silence for a while. I think of Havok. I wish I had his protection right now. It was stupid of me not to believe him. I guess he really was trying to keep me safe. But I disobeyed him and didn't listen. Now I'm paying for it. And he might pay for it, too.
I feel sick.
He's the strongest man I've ever met. The toughest, and most brutal. But I'm terrified of what could happen if this entire organization goes after him. No man can defend himself against an army.
He doesn't fit in with the men here. He's brutal, but he has a conscience. He's mad, but he doesn't have an evil heart.
I was wrong about him.
So I need to find a way out of this mess. I need to figure out how to get out of here, back to Havok. And next time, I'll trust him.
A banging at the door interrupts my train of thought. It's the sound of keys against metal, then a lock turning. All the girls in the room turn their heads, and I wonder if we're going to pay the price for removing our blindfolds.
Igor comes through the door.
I can't believe he's in on this, too. I was in more danger than I ever knew. We all got played.
He looks at me and smirks. "Clever girls, getting those blindfolds off."
"Fuck you," is all I manage to say.
He smirks. "It's not personal. All you girls are just dollar signs to me."
Disgusting son of a bitch.
"What are you going to do with us?" I say.
"Gonna send you to your new owners. All-expenses paid trip to Europe." He smiles. "But first, I'm gonna have a little fun with you, before you go abroad."
My heart thumps.
He laughs, and heads toward the exit. "I'll be back for you, Penny."
38
Havok
My fists clenched, I stand in the center of my destroyed bedroom. I stare at the message from Igor on my cell phone. It confirms the worst: "You said she was dead."
They have Penny. And now they know I've been lying to them all along.
The metallic smell of blood reaches my nostrils. It normally increases my bloodlust, but right now I can think only of Penny, scared and alone, and the scent simply makes me want to vomit.
It's time to fucking take action. I fish around in my pockets for my cellphone, and I dial up Valentin.
"Valentin here."
"Bro," I say. "Where are you?"
"Port Authority. Got a shipment coming in today." He's talking about powder. Cocaine.
"Need to talk with you," I say.
"Can it wait?"
"No. Can you get to the train yard by three?"
"Alright brother."
"Bring Luka with you," I say.
"Roger that."
I slam down my phone on the nightstand and jump in the shower, washing Earl's blood off me. I dress myself in fresh clothes, making sure my holster and silenced pistol are secured tight under my jacket. The mess in here will have to wait. I'm not worried about Earl going to the cops or any shit like that. He's too much of a pussy. He'll go back to his office, stitch himself up, and shut the fuck up. He's under my thumb.
I grab my car keys and head for the Bayside train yard.
"Holy fuck," says Luka, when I finish telling him the story about Penny. "She was at your place for how long?"
"Almost two months."
He lets out a slow whistle, then pulls a pack of filterless cigarettes out of his pocket. He lights one and takes a drag, offering the pack to me. I never smoke. But today, I smoke. Every drag fills my lungs with tension and tightness, and it's worth it just for the calmness that follows on the exhalation. It equalizes the pressure in my chest with the cool train yard air. I feel less like I'll explode any minute, but I can't get Penny's face out of my mind.
Valentin removes his sunglasses, and rubs the bridge of his nose. "What the fuck you telling us for, man. You know the position this puts us in."
Luka cocks an eyebrow. I talked to him about this before. I know he'll be down to do this. But I'm not sure about Valentin.
"Because," I say, pounding my closed fist against my chest where my heart is, "She's in here. Has been for a long time."
"This girl business is sick shit, Vlad," says Valentin. "But it's how things are now."
I shake my head no. "It doesn't have to be. I'm going in. Gonna smash the operation. Free the girls and blow up that godforsaken factory. You all are either with me, or not."
"You've been there?" asks Luka.
"I've been there. It's sick."
"You know," says Luka, "We should kill you where you stand for this."
My heart thuds hard in my chest, much like the steam engines once did in the now-dead boxcars littered around this gray train graveyard. I fucking trusted these fucks my whole life. If they turn on me now, I won't fucking believe it.
But then Luka cracks a grin. "Just bullshitting. I'm with you, brother."
"Fuck," I say, grinning. "Fuck you."
Valentin's eyes flick between me and Luka, and then he sighs deeply. "I can't just let you two go alone."
A tingle rolls through my spine, and I nod at my two brothers in crime. I've always been able to trust them, and now they've come throug
h for me again, in my greatest time of need.
"You realize, Vlady," says Valentin, "We will be looking over our own shoulders for life, if we do this."
"Well," I say. I thought this part through, too. "I'll be looking over my shoulder all my life if I don't do it. They fucking know I lied. That's why we have to go big."
"What exactly are you saying?" Valentin says slowly in Russian. He normally speaks excellent English. But when the heat is on, he sometimes lapses into the tongue we all spoke back in the motherland, in the prisons and on the streets.
"We smash the trafficking operation," I say. "Then, we execute Igor, Grigory, and the rest of their henchmen. We clean up West Ark. Take this entire business for ourselves. For my part, I'm dead if I don't."
Luka and Valentin share nervous looks. I don't fucking blame them, considering what I'm proposing. "Think of the payoff," I say.
"Shit," says Valentin, trailing off.
"You sure, brother?" asks Luka. "You sure you ain't gone crazy over a piece of pussy?"
"You ever seen me go crazy over pussy?" I growl.
Valentin nods. "Vlady says she's family, then she's family," he says. "It's decided."
"Spasiba," I say, thanking him in Russian. The bond of brotherhood is stronger than blood.
I look back and forth at the two of them. The wind blows cold, penetrating the thin coat I wear. It won't be long until the trees shed their leaves and flirt with death.
"It's decided," I echo. "And we got no time to waste. Tonight, we take care of Grigory. Tomorrow, the girls."
My heart is like a pit of molten metal, overheating and shooting sparks everywhere.
I had that girl. In my house, and in my bed. And I was so afraid of hurting her, that I let her slip right out of my grasp.
I won't lose her again. I won't.
Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance Page 12
