Snatched

by Cullars, Sharon

  Those were as many words as Sid had ever spoken to Dele in the months Dele had been with the crew. A succinct warning, but a warning just the same. Which made Dele wonder how much Sid knew about the missing stash and Roach's part in it.

  Nailah shifted to whisper in his ear.

  "How long do we have to stay here? I can't take much more of this."

  He brought his mouth to her ear, whispered back, "Be patient. Like I told you before, we're playing this by ear." He followed this with a touch of his lips to the fleshy part of her lobe. He felt a small tremor run through her and his body responded in kind. At that moment, he realized even with all the danger they were in, for the first time since he went "under" he was somewhat enjoying the role he had to play.

  The thunderous sound of a bike just outside brought him back to the gravity of the present situation. There was no time for any distractions, no matter how attractive.

  He half expected Roach to re-enter the room. Instead Skeet entered with Carolyn a few steps behind him.

  Skeet slit eyes at Dele clutching Nailah. Then reached behind him to jerk Carolyn into a similar clutch as though to say: "Got your other lady here." In the world of bikers, there was always some competition going down: fastest draw, fastest bike, fastest lady. Dele knew better than to take the bait.

  Dele knew Carolyn had gone with Skeet last night in a last-ditch attempt to make Dele jealous. The only thing he felt though was pity. If he had any say, he'd drag her away from this place, away from these users and losers. Drag her back to whatever small town she'd run from.

  Carolyn spied him and Nailah in the chair and any initial look of triumph she had immediately fell flat. Actually her face morphed into several expressions - surprise, jealousy and eventually the deadness indicating defeat. As far as she was concerned, she had been usurped. Unlike Clare, though, Carolyn wasn't much of a fighter. Nailah most likely could hold her own against the younger woman.

  Clare was another story. Clare considered any attractive man fair game - her game. And she'd long set eyes on Dele.

  Within minutes came the thunder of more bikes outside. As though the mere thought of the woman had summoned her, Clare preceded Rez into the warehouse. A retinue of members and their women immediately followed. All of the players were here now. Dele was ready for the drama to begin.

  Chapter 11

  Nailah shifted on Dele's lap, uncomfortable with the forced closeness. Or rather, disturbed by her body's reaction to the closeness. And now to make matters worse, the blond bitch had arrived and was eyeballing her with an ugly sneer. That sneer said she wanted to kick Nailah's ass. Despite her fear, Nailah was at a breaking point where she was tired of the insults, tired of her impotence. She threw the woman a look as good as she was getting.

  "What the fuck you looking at?" the blond shot at her.

  "From my perspective, some ragged ends and some scary roots. Looks like you're in need of some serious touching up."

  "You bitch!" the woman said, charging. In a second, a fist had connected with Nailah's jaw.

  Pain has a way of dispelling reason. In her right mind, Nailah would have known better to make any sudden moves in a warehouse full of criminals, would have known how foolish it was to attack one of them. But she wasn't in her right mind. The shock of the sudden pain galvanized the hidden tiger in her, the one that bided its time, waiting for a wrong word, a wrong move. The tiger sprung, and Nailah followed suit, leaping from the prison of Dele's lap. She landed against her attacker, knocking both of them to the floor.

  Even as she began pummeling the blond, part of her fully expected to either be pulled off the woman or even worse. But no one intervened. If anything, there were hoots and laughter as she and her nemesis rolled on the floor, trying to get an advantage.

  Nailah's fist came down, made contact with the woman's nose. A spurt of blood sprang and for these few seconds, after so many hours of captivity, she felt victorious, felt in control. At this point, she didn't care if they killed her.

  She'd been snatched from the streets, hauled about like a sack of potatoes, taunted, leered at, and made to participate in her own debasement, not barring that it had been an act to protect her from something worse. All of the fear and anger rode a wave of other hardly discernable emotions and her fists were the ballast against these feelings that threatened to rip her apart. She wanted someone to pay and this bitch would do.

  Rough hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up off the woman, who lay nearly motionless. Nailah expected to see the malevolent features of the gang leader. Instead it was Dele's face that loomed in front of her. In her peripheral view, she saw that the leader simply stood within distance. He held a bottle of beer or some other liquor. Even in her daze she wondered at a man who would let his woman be beaten without intervening. For a second she actually felt sorry for the woman lying bleeding on the floor.

  Still raging inside, Nailah fought against Dele's restraining hands. But his expression brooked no resistance. His eyes transmitted a message which basically told her to cool the fuck down. Through the fog of her anger, the message finally got through as she realized that she wasn't only risking her life but his as well. With that sudden understanding, the fight seeped out of her. And the fear inched back in.

  "Nothin' like two bitches going at each other," she heard one of the men snicker. She didn't know which one. Not that it mattered. They were all the same as far as she was concerned.

  "Looks like she tore Clare a new one."

  "That's kinda good 'cause lord knows her other holes are practically used up."

  Nailah winced at the raucous laughter, even if it were at her enemy's expense. The misogyny was rife, the inhumanity oozing from everyone in the room. Everyone that was except Dele. Even the other women had smiles on their faces. Nailah surmised that the one called Clare wasn't exactly popular with her own girls. The only one showing any humanity was the other blond, the younger one who seemed like a lost kitten in a roomful of predators.

  The gang leader took a swig from his bottle, then upended the rest of its contents onto the upturned face of the dazed Clare.

  "Get the fuck up. You ain't hurt."

  The dictate was cruel given that Clare's nose was still bleeding and one of her closed eyes was already showing signs of darkening. Nailah's initial concern that the woman needed medical attention was somewhat abated as the blond moaned at the splash of liquor in her face. She moved a little and then eyes opened, the blue irises out of focus.

  Yanking her shoulders out of Dele's grip, Nailah knelt to reach a hand down to the woman. The gang members grew silent at the gesture, as though they weren't use to any act of spontaneous kindness. She needn't have bothered though because the woman slapped the hand away. The solicitous act seemed to anger the blond more than the beer cruelly poured into her face. Again, Nailah wondered what kind of abuse she'd endured at the hands of these animals that a kind act was more of an affront than her humiliation.

  Dele pulled her back forcefully this time and she didn't resist. The blond rose first to her knees, then stood. With her hands she swept her thighs, all the time turning eyes of venom on Nailah. If they had been only passing enemies before, that look swore vengeance and Nailah knew from then on out she'd better watch her back with this one. Or there would definitely be a knife or some other sharp object stuck into it.

  "Seems your bitch knows how to take care of herself," the gang leader declared with half a smirk. "I never took to any nigger before but I'd be willing to give it a go."

  He laughed, his hand touched his belt. Nailah drew in a ragged breath. After all the shit she'd put up with to avoid this moment, here it was at last with no where for her to run.

  "No train, man," she heard Dele say. "Still honeymooning."

  "Ahh, c'mon now, you know the rules about sharing." This from the one the older gangster referred to as a roach, a bug. The one who had
stormed off. She hadn't notice him re-entering the warehouse but here he was, standing just a few feet away, his look one of pending retaliation. Against her, but especially against Dele.

  "I also know the rules about stealing," Dele countered. "Seems you forgotten about that one, Roach."

  Roach? That was actually his name? This was some fucked-up world she'd been dragged into. Well, if he thought he was going to get at her, he'd be surprised how fast she would squash his behind. Or die trying. The same with the leader.

  "If you're accusing me of somethin'…" Roach began.

  "I'm straight up accusing you of taking that stash. And I'm not about to go down for your nose candy."

  "You know you two muthas can argue until the sun go down. All I know is that by the end of this week, I better have that stash back. Or I'm taking you both down."

  The gang leader looked hard at Dele, then turned the venomous look on the one called Roach. The bug actually seemed to shrink under the stare. For all his seeming bravado, Nailah could tell that he had all the courage of his namesake. Fast to scurry when the lights came on. Probably just as larcenous. She understood now why Dele was super paranoid. He was under a death threat. Which meant that she was under the same threat. Because whatever happened to Dele was going to happen to her. There was no reason to keep her alive after they killed him.

  "OK, down to other business," the gang leader continued as he took a seat on one of the leather sofas. The blond squeezed between him and the older gangster who had been there when Nailah and Dele first arrived.

  "I don't trust those raga muthafuckers to keep their word about the guns. That's why I had Sid Boy tracking Corrall. From what Sid could determine, the cartel is shipping in some major hardware. I figure we shouldn't have to go through that double dealing rafa. I say we go straight to the cartel, see if we can make our own arrangements."

  The gang leader – the one they called Rez or something like that - sat forward, his fists clenched together. When the leader mentioned 'Sid Boy' she noticed eyes cast at a man with a blond beard half down a thin chest but with scraggly red hair pulled back into a ponytail. For all his lankiness that was barely hidden with threadbare jeans, shirt and denim jacket, Sid Boy's hard set features intimated he was no one to fool with.

  "If we make this move, you know those damn monkey rafas are gonna start something. And it's gonna be up to us to finish it. Once we take the rafas down, we got all of these streets."

  Nailah's blood ran cold as someone suggested they slit Corrall's throat.

  Rez smiled as he pulled something from his pocket. A Bowie knife.

  "Yeah, I'd like to take that rafa out personally. He's gotten in my way one too many fucking times." He made a swishing motion in the air with the knife, his smile growing bigger and uglier. All eyes followed the knife. Except the blond Clare. At this moment, she only had eyes for Nailah. Resentment and cold hatred flashed. Instinctively Nailah knew the woman wished she had that knife in her hand right now.

  Nailah broke away from the stare, glanced around and wondered for the hundredth time how she was ever going to get away from this murderous gang of criminals. She especially wondered about the man whose hands firmly held either of her shoulders preventing her from making any sudden movements. How deep was he into all of this? Drugs? Rape? Murder? Most likely at least one if not all three. More importantly, why was she trusting him to get her out of this mess?

  Because her instincts told her to. It was as simple as that. As many times as she had rashly gotten herself into trouble (like throwing a rib at a marauding biker), her instincts had served her well through most of her life. Had helped her come through a less than idyllic childhood with an alcoholic mother (thank God for her maternal grandmother) and had set her on a course to not repeat her mother's mistakes. Her instinct had also told her when to get out of at least one contentious relationship and had made her keep her head when one evening she'd been robbed at gunpoint. Hopefully that instinct would help her now because lord knew she needed the help.

  "Dele, you can't hold on to that ball and chain much longer," she heard the gang leader say as she phased back into the conversation going on. "After all we have standards. She's good for some laughs, but we need your mind fully on club business. For all we know, the cops are looking for her. We can't handle that kind of heat, not with all this shit going down."

  If her blood had gone cold before at the talk of someone else's murder, it nearly froze as Dele asked, "What do you suggest I do with her?"

  Rez said the next statement with a matter of fact tone as if he were instructing someone to take out the garbage – which, in this case, he might consider a similar chore. "Don't act brand new bruh. As fine a piece of chocolate ass she is, you gotta get rid of her."

  With this statement, the hands on her shoulder tightened even more.

  And the moping Clare suddenly broke into a smile as she offered, "If you need any help Dele, I'll be more than happy to give it."

  As Nailah fought the urge to scream and run, she finally realized that her instinct had failed her. She had been wrong to trust Dele. And she was going to pay a heavy price for doing so.

  But where instinct failed her, the fight within raged. She might die today but she was going to make sure at least someone else felt some pain.

  She turned and slapped Dele as hard as she could. In that same second a hand came up and cold cocked her. As she lost consciousness, she heard the blond bitch laughing victoriously.

  Chapter 12

  Dele had never hit a woman before. Well, there had been Shelly Deacon in the sixth grade but she'd landed a hard right on his left jaw. His response had been instinctual – as had been the hook he landed on Nailah. This time though it hadn't been because of the pain. When he saw her hand come up, he'd immediately known he had to take control of the situation or she might aim for any of the other gang members out of fear. If she'd even tried to go after Rez, she would have gotten a belly full of serrated steel and would now be lying on the ground bleeding to death instead of just momentarily knocked out. Somehow he had to get her out of here before she came to. Or before the others decided to take matters into their own hands.

  Even now, Clare was reaching for Rez's Bowie knife. He jerked it out of her reach and sheathed it back into his rear jean pocket.

  "Aww, c'mon baby. Let me have some fun," Clare whined as she poked out her bottom lip, a faux face mimicking a child's. Something that irritated Rez to no end as he had told her time again. For some reason, she kept doing it.

  "This is Dele's deal. Get it…Dele's deal," Rez smirked as he looked straight into Dele's eyes. Deadly black.

  "After all, he hasn't taken anyone down since that old wino. We got to know he got the stuff to do what has to be done. 'cause he's also gonna help me get rid of that Jamaican nigger. Tonight. Might make me forget that stolen stash. Word is might."

  Things had a way of going from bad to shit within seconds. This thing was tumbling out of control and there seemed no way to climb out of this hole. Not only did he have to get Nailah to safety and maintain his cover at the same time, but he had to prevent the crew from murdering some Jamaicans tonight.

  Right now, it was all stratagem. There was simply no way he could take down everybody in this warehouse. Even with his gun at the ready, he knew several members also packed heat. They wanted her dead. Right now.

  The only thing he could do was play another ace. The last one he had.

  "Before I take her out, there's something I need to do. Last night she let slip something interesting. Something about money…"

  "Money? What money?" Rez's stare had a measure of curiosity now. The possibility of currency always took top position on his list of priorities.

  "Not that she has a whole lot. Just a few bills in the bank and other items of interest in a security box. I just want to make sure I milked her for all she's worth. And of course…"
He assumed a fierce leer as he continued. "I want one more turn…for old time's sake."

  Already Rez was shaking his head. "Too much of a risk. Especially getting money out of a bank. She's not going to go meekly to the slaughter, man. As she's already shown."

  "Oh, I can get her to be more cooperative. Don't worry about that."

  He had to play this cool, even though he felt a bead of sweat running down the nape of his neck. Rez was no fool. Fortunately, neither was he. He had flawlessly played the bad ass these last few weeks. There was no reason for Rez to think he had a soft spot for the woman. For all Rez assumed, the only thing any of them had to worry about was the logistics of her murder. And, now, getting some extra funds for the crew.

  It was another second or two before Rez answered. It felt like an eternity.

  "Look, I'm leaving this whole thing up to you. But you bring down any undue attention, it's also on you. You get picked up by the police, there's no jail cell you'll be safe in. We got crew in and out of County. Just so you know."

  Inwardly, Dele sighed relief. Outwardly, he bent to pick up the still unconscious woman. Dead weight but fortunately not dead…yet.

  Even as he carried her out of the warehouse, he felt eyes drilling through his back. Clare said something not totally audible. But he caught the tone. Disappointment.

  Outside, he maneuvered Nailah onto the bike. Then lightly slapped her cheeks. No stirring at first and he began to worry that he had done some damage. A second or two passed and then finally a slight moan followed by another moan. This followed by a stiffening as she lifted a hand to her cheek. Her eyes opened and stared directly at him.

  He didn't have time to duck as the lightning fast fist connected with his jaw. For a woman she packed a wallop. Nearly knocked him off his feet.

  "Don't you ever raise a hand to me again!" she spat between gritted teeth.

  "Are you kidding me? I saved your life in there! You were going after Rez and trust me you wouldn't be breathing right now if you had."