Linc (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel Book 3)

by Hart, Lane

  No time to figure that shit out now, we all jump in the truck, Senn fires it up and we burn rubber out of the lot.

  “What the fuck?” Senn asks, takin’ side road after side road in case they are followin’ us in their own car.

  “No clue,” I say. “Mace?”

  “Vito’s men,” he tells us from the back.

  “Did ya’ll at least get to see Claire? How’s she doing?” Senn asks.

  “Not Claire. Mandy,” I explain. “Why didn’t you tell the nurse the truth?” I turn to ask Mace.

  "I think Vito's up to something. I don't know what, but if I start screwing around with his plans..."

  "Vito?" I say. "You think he has somethin’ to do with Mandy?"

  "Hell yeah, I do. I just don't know why. Well, other than you fuckin’ with James," he grumbles.

  "He had Claire pinned against her car so I smashed in his face on her hood and with my fists a couple of times," I explain in my defense. “What the fuck was I supposed to do?”

  "Goddamn it! Didn't I tell you not to go and fuck with him? I knew this shit would happen!" Mace exclaims.

  "You think he put Mandy in the ICU and kidnapped Claire because I punched a guy? Seriously, Mace?" I ask in disbelief.

  "Yes!" he yells, tuggin’ on his hair with both hands. "If he has Claire...I don't know what the fuck we can do."

  "We need to go to the police," I tell him. Mace immediately scoffs in response. "You got a better idea?"

  "Fuck. I don't know," he says slumpin’ back against the seat.

  "I think you should go to the police," Senn offers, before taking another random turnoff. "There's no sign of her, so Vito is the only possible explanation for her disappearance, right?"

  "Fine," Mace mutters. “Go to the police station in Durham.”

  Half an hour later, more than a few eyebrows raise when the three of us walk into the same police department I was just in a few hours ago. At least we get noticed.

  "Can I help you?" A middle-aged woman with a pixie cut asks through the speaker of the bulletproof window separating the lobby from the department.

  "We need to report a missin’ person," I tell her.

  "Adult?"

  "Yes."

  "Have they been missing for at least twenty-four hours?" she asks with a frown.

  "No, but-"

  "Then we can't help you. Come back tomorrow night-"

  "Listen, is there an officer we can just talk to for a few minutes? We think Vito Scarfone has her and is pretendin’ she's in the hospital when it's actually her sister in the hospital," I start explainin’, even though it sounds crazy. A big, broad guy with a close, military shaved head stands up from his desk and approaches the window as I ramble on. “She left work to go home and there hasn’t been any sign of her or her sister’s car, but she’s not the one in the hospital.”

  "Did you say you think Vito Scarfone is involved?" the man asks, adjustin’ his shoulder holster that's hangin’ on the outside of his black tee as he assesses all three of us closely.

  "Yes."

  "Buzz them back," he tells the grumpy woman. At the sound I pull open the heavy door and lead the way back to his desk. He offers me a handshake first. "Detective Fury, organized crime division."

  "Linc Abrams. This is Mason Reed and Senn Duncan."

  "MMA fighter with new assault charges, right?" he asks as he pulls up a third guest chair from an empty desk.

  "Yeah."

  "Let's hear it," he says, sittin’ down across from the three of us. Ironically he then takes a sip of coffee from a mug that says, “How about a nice, warm cup of shut the fuck up?”

  Mason and I both recant everything from the time we saw Claire leavin’ work until we were chased out of the hospital, includin’ my morning assault on the asshole.

  "So you think Scarfone put your sister Mandy in the hospital under Claire’s name and made it look like an overdose when he actually drugged her and then kidnapped the other sister all because you roughed up one of his men?" he asks when we’re finished the recap.

  "Yes," Mason and I both say.

  The detective sits his coffee down and then leans back in his chair with his thick arms crossed over his chest. "I've been after Scarfone for five years, for charges from murder to petty failure to report cash profits. I’m talking everything under the fucking sun, and nothing ever sticks. But even I have a hard time believing he's responsible for a blatant kidnapping and OD. He doesn't get his own hands dirty and he wouldn’t be stupid enough to have it come back on him."

  "Well then, his guys are behind it. James…what's his last name?" I ask Mace.

  "James Foster?" the detective offers. "Oh yeah. I know everything, including their shoe sizes, about all of his men. Still, trying to pin something this big on any of them is not gonna be easy. This is the organized crime unit, where we don’t even deal with kidnapping cases. You have no evidence, only speculation that’s vague at best, and completely superfluous at worst. We’re not on CSI. In real life judges and district attorneys need more than a fucking hunch to grant search warrants and charge someone with a crime."

  "Look, Detective, do you have a sister or a wife?" I ask, glancin’ at the single photo on his desk, one of a young woman with long, jet black hair of an Asian descent. I'm bettin’ she’s one or the other, especially after he bristles at the question, squarin’ his shoulders and clenchin’ his jaw.

  "Wife. Why?" he asks gruffly.

  "What if she went missin’? Would you sit around and wait to see if she turned up or would you go after a hunch, no matter how small, if you know something’s going on?" I ask.

  He relaxes back in his squeaky chair again and exhales a breath. "I get where you're coming from, really, I do. And I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough for a search warrant. All I could possibly do is maybe pull together some surveillance, but if we're talking about Scarfone's house, that's mission impossible, since it's out in the middle of fucking nowhere."

  "Come on," Mace jumps up and pleads. "There has to be something you can do!" He’s gettin’ increasingly upset, his fists clenched and veins poppin’ out on his forearms. He looks like he’s seconds away from divin’ across the desk and throttlin’ the man who’s refusin’ to help us.

  The detective picks up a pencil and taps the eraser on the edge of his desk. "If you three were to decide to show up at Scarfone’s house and ask about her, well, there's nothing I can do to stop you. I'll talk to my captain, see if he'll let one of you wear our wire. If you manage to get something concrete recorded, then I might, still a slim chance, but might be able to get a search warrant."

  "We'll do it," I agree automatically.

  "I have to warn you that you’ll be putting yourselves in danger, and we won't be able to do shit about that since we’ll be a minimum of twenty minutes away."

  "I'm in," I tell him. "Mace?"

  "Yeah,” he agree, blowing out his breath. “I’ve been to his place plenty of times."

  "Hell, I can't miss out on all the fun," Senn says, gettin’ to his feet and crackin’ his knuckles. "Let's go pay a visit to the Godfather."

  Chapter Eighteen

  Claire

  There's no clock in the room so time seems to stand still. I don't know if it's day or night, because the blinding overhead lights never go off. I hear voices all around me, but thankfully, no one has been in the room since Vito and James left what seemed like hours ago, maybe days. The door’s locked and even if I got it open I can tell by the voices that someone’s always around. My stomach has stopped growling. I'm not even hungry anymore. I'm afraid to sleep but unable to stay awake, so I drift in and out of consciousness. The two times I had to pee and just couldn't hold it any longer, I went and took care of business in the far corner of the room. God, how embarrassing! I guess I could've asked them to let me go use the bathroom, but a part of me was scared to remind them I'm in here. At least all the tears I've shed worried about Mandy will hopefully dehydrate me so I won't have to go again,
and I can just remain in here, alone and forgotten.

  My luck runs out sooner than I hoped. When the door opens, I hold my breath and pretend to be asleep.

  "Rise and shine, Miss Reed." The sound of his voice instantly puts me on edge. "I know you're not asleep. There are cameras in here. So we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

  I don't move. I'm not sure I have the energy to even if I wanted.

  "My informant at the hospital tells me your sister crashed for the third time in twelve hours. Maybe we should just tell him to go ahead and pull the plug-"

  "No!" I scream, sitting up in bed. If she’s still crashing…she might not make it much longer. And it’s Linc’s fault that’s she’s there and I’m here. No, that’s not exactly true. I’m just angry and depressed. From the shit James has been saying, this is what Vito’s wanted ever since the first video – me to be Eve. Linc kicking James’s ass is just an excuse.

  "Oh good. You're awake,” Vito says with a smirk. “Let's get on with it. We'll start simple, ease you into it to show you I can be accommodating, if you can. Today’s a short, solo teaser scene to get you...comfortable with the camera."

  "I want to see her," I tell him.

  "All right. Do your scene like we say and afterwards I'll have my man at the hospital show her live on FaceTime. I bet her condition will be drastically improved by then. Deal?" he asks with his slimy grin widening, since he knows there's nothing else I can do. After I give a slight nod of my head, he says, "Get her undressed and on set. Quickly. I want us to roll in five."

  James, and oh God, Bobby Manus come into the room, one moving to each side of the bed. "I-I can undress myself!" I yell to Vito as he starts to walk out the door.

  "Yeah, but they'll have more fun doing it," he calls out over his shoulder. "Don't leave any marks on her."

  Bobby’s hand grips firmly on my leg and pulls me toward him as I try and move further up the bed. Before my shoe comes off there's a heavy weight pressing on my stomach, pushing the air out of my lungs. James. My eyes are watering when I start swinging at his face, but he grabs my wrists and pins then above my head. Squeezing both of them painfully in one of his hands, the other yanks on the center of my dress shirt, tearing the fabric and ripping buttons off. I cry out when he leans down and puts one of my breasts in his mouth over the cup of my bra. My steady stream of tears turn to sobs as he reaches to pop the button on my pants. He has them unzipped a second later. Starting at my ankles, they're tugged down my legs, and then my panties are ripped away. James’s fingers fondle me between my legs, despite how tightly I squeeze my thighs together and try to get away. "Oh fuck. I can't wait to pound my cock into this pussy," he says. "Help me get her shirt off."

  "Put her on her stomach," I vaguely hear Bobby suggest, and then I'm flipped face down on the mattress with James's weight pressing on my lower body. It doesn't take long for them to jerk my long sleeve shirt and bra off, then I'm left naked on my stomach while they both feel me up. Their greedy hands seem to be everywhere.

  "Ah shit. I’ve got to fuck her. Won't take but a minute," James says, making me panic. I try to raise up and throw him off of me, but he won’t budge. “Get out your phone and record it.”

  "Hell, if you get to fuck her, then I am, too. Hurry up," Bobby says.

  Between my sobs and the fear, I’m about to hyperventilate. James’s hard cock protrudes through the material of his pants, wedging its way between my butt cheeks. His grasp on my wrists above my head is so tight it feels like he might break them. I hear the sound of his zipper going down and then feel the head of his cock rubbing against my skin, trying to shove its way inside me. When I clench my thighs tighter together he curses and tries to wedge them apart with his knee. I refuse to budge an inch, ignoring my screaming muscles.

  “Help me spread her fucking legs,” he says, his sour smelling breath hot and heavy above my neck. “Goddamn it, she won’t stay still.”

  “Here.” I hear Bobby say. “This might help.” I gasp and freeze when cold metal slides down my spine.

  “Damn, right. Bet you’ll think twice before fighting now,” James says. “Now spread your legs.”

  "That's enough," Vito says, and the breath I was holding comes rushing out. I never thought I would be so glad to hear that asshole’s voice. "I think Miss Reed has learned the difference between the easy way and hard way for future reference, haven't you?"

  "Let me go," I cry out. "Please let me go."

  "Come on, Vito. We need to break her in,” James says with his hand going back between my legs. “You can go first. It’ll be so fucking good.”

  "Put the fucking gun away and stop recording. I’ll get shut down if it got out that we rape our goddamn stars,” the older man says. “Keep your dicks in your pants and get her to the set."

  "Fuck," James grumbles, but thankfully climbs off of me.

  Bobby pulls me across the bed by my ankle and then throws me over his shoulder. I dry heave from the pressure on my empty stomach.

  “If you throw up on me I’ll make you lick it off,” Bobby warns.

  "Hurry up," Vito tells him. When Bobby tries to walk past him, he pulls the man to a stop and grabs my face to make me look at him. “Now her face is a goddamn mess, but thankfully it’s a shower scene,” he says.

  The next time my feet hit the ground it’s in front of a big glass stand up shower, the water steaming up the air from the warmth. There’s a man with a camera, and a huge lamp and microphone arranged overhead. He has to be fucking kidding.

  “In you go,” Vito says with a slap to my bare ass. “You can either let us video you, happily getting yourself off alone, or I’ll have one of the guys do it. Maybe James. With his tongue. Easy way or hard way? Your choice, darlin’.”

  …

  Linc

  I bang my knuckles against the fancy mahogany and mosaic glass door of the big ass house after I ring the doorbell. What little patience I had is long gone ever since the sun came up. I will fuckin’ kill someone with my bare hands if that's what it takes to find Claire.

  The door finally swings opens and a pretty young girl with curly blonde, waist length hair smiles at the three of us. She's the furthest thing from Scarfone's thugs you could possibly get. In fact, she looks like she should be walkin’ down some runway with my sister instead of standin’ in a mafia boss’s house. The girl is also vaguely familiar, but I can’t quite place her.

  "Hello, boys. Can I do something for you?" she asks with a flirty smile, despite the fact that the three of us are standin’ in front of her projecting nothin’ but exhaustion, anger, and extreme annoyance.

  "Who the fuck are you?" I ask, not givin’ a shit about my attitude.

  Her smile slips and she pushes a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "Lexi. Lexi Scarfone."

  "Vito's daughter, right?" Mace speaks up from beside me.

  "Uh-huh."

  "We're lookin’ for his sister, Claire Reed. Is she here?" I ask, right to the point.

  "Claire Reed? Nope, the name doesn’t ring any bells," she says with a shake of her head.

  "Mace, can you show her that picture on your phone?" I hope seein’ her face might help.

  He pulls out his cell his pocket and offers it to her.

  "Eve?" she says, her eyes widenin’ as soon as she looks down. "So, her real name is Claire?"

  "No, Mandy Reed is actually Eve. She's in the hospital, and Claire, who looks a helluva lot like her younger sister, is missin’," I explain, glancin’ over her shoulder into the house to see if there’s anyone else around. Unlike the night of the party, the whole place looks empty. No other cars are in the driveway, either.

  "Sorry, but I haven't seen either of them. Well, not since my dad's party a week or so ago. I think I saw one of them there."

  “Yeah, that was Claire,” I confirm. “Where’s Vito?"

  She tilts her head to the side and gives a small smile. “No clue. Daddy doesn’t usually let me in on his day to day schedule, not unless
he needs my help of course.”

  “Any idea where we could look for him?” Mace asks, and she swings her big, innocent, chocolate eyes over to him.

  “Probably at one of his places? There’s the pool hall, bar and brewery downtown, three sweepstakes centers, gambling hole, fighting pit.” She ticks them off on her fingers as she goes through the list. “Oh, and last but not least, the porn studio.”

  That last one sends an almost painful jolt of alarm through me.“What’s the address for the studio?” I ask.

  “Um, I have no idea,” the girls says, and unfortunately I believe her. “It should be in the phone book though, under VS Productions.”

  Mace and I both start punchin’ in the words in our phones. “Got it, thank you,” I say to her, then to Mace and Senn, “Six thousand-nine Snow Hill Road. Let’s go.”

  As soon as we’re back inside Senn’s truck I ask for the sake of the wires, “Did you hear that, Detective? We’re going to the studio.” My cell phone buzzes before we pull out of the driveway with his response.

  Roger that. Be careful. Don’t get too cocky and get killed.

  “What…why do you think she’d be there?” Mace asks hesitantly from behind Senn’s seat.

  “You really gonna make me say it?” I ask him, my fist grippin’ the truck’s Oh Shit handle to tightly my knuckles are white. Mace doesn’t respond other than cursin’ under his breath. I tell Senn to drive faster.

  So this is the reason Vito wanted everyone to think Claire is the one dyin’ in the ICU instead of Mandy. He can’t have anything bad happen to his famous porn star, now can he? So what’s he doin’? The fucker’s must be tryin’ to make Claire the new Eve, replacin’ the old version for a healthier one, without anyone findin’ out. That shit’s never gonna happen.

  Oh God, what if it already has? She’s been gone for hours and…there’s no tellin’ what he’s doin’ to her. I’ll fuckin’ kill him.

  Fifteen miles or so later, the address on my phone’s GPS directs us to a huge, unmarked warehouse. “You think this is it?” I ask Senn and Mace.