by Nicole Snow
He turned, forcing himself up when the trickle was done running out his mouth. If he saw me at his side, or Jackie at the other, he showed no sign of it.
Brass just turned, looking past my sister, right at the trio against the wall. I realized then his mouth was gagged with a thick handkerchief stuck between his teeth and bound around his head.
“I'm gonna take this shit off so you can talk,” Serial said, leaning down and almost pressing his evil lips to Brass' ear. “But first, I'm gonna show you I'm not fucking around here. I'm gonna give you a little preview of what happens when your bitch ass fails to tell me the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”
The thug snorted. “You think you hurt me after I went after your slut? Huh? Getting the jump on me and cracking my jaw?” Serial shook his head. “Well, I'm gonna hurt you a hundred times worse before I even lay a fucking finger on you.”
He stood, heading for Jackie again. I realized what was about to happen before he even raised his arm.
“No! Don't fucking do this!” I rocked in the chair as hard as I could, shaking until it almost broke.
Is this what it feels like when someone's losing their mind? I wondered.
The answer was right in front of me, vicious and blood red: if he put a single scratch on Jackie's innocent skin and woke her up, I'd never be whole again. Every cut, every scratch, every wound on her was a thousand times worse than anything he could do to my own skin.
I couldn't hear myself think. My brain slipped away as he lingered over my sister, taking his sweet time, wiggling his fingers in that fucked up Freddy Krueger thing on his hand.
There was another sound. A harsher, angrier, masculine growl, deep as thunder and just as dangerous.
I realized it was Brass rumbling through his gag. His whole body shook like he had a current running through him. I couldn't see what he was looking at, but it looked like he was gazing through Serial and Jackie, straight to the other men against the wall, grinding his throat like a motorcycle engine running on pure hate, betrayal, sadness.
“Come on, Serial. Get on with it,” Blackjack said from his post against the wall. “You're a fucking coward, you know.”
Serial stopped. The freak turned his barbed wire tattooed face toward the wall as his superior stepped forward, his gray hair bobbing on his shoulders.
“What did you say to me, old man?” he snorted. “You think you got some big fat balls in your flabby sac just because you pissed in the Prez's face? You're not strong. You're not brave. You're the only fuckhead stupid enough to vote with this rat, and I can't fucking wait 'til Fang lets me take Enforcer and puts your weak ass out to pasture.”
Blackjack stepped into the light, and Brass' head followed every move he made. I couldn't see my lover's eyes, but I knew they'd be horrible, like watching a curse starting to wreck havoc.
“I said you're a coward, Serial. You'd rather torture his women instead of face the fist that pounded you in the face. A real man only enjoys spilling blood when he's evenly matched and when it's damned well justified. This shit here...” Blackjack shook his head.
Brass let out another roar through his gag. I could see his hands twitching, tied behind his back, slowly ripping at the cord. His fingers were bloody, but it really looked like he might get it off.
No. This is stupid. You can't get your hopes up.
Brace for the worst, girl. Brace for hell.
I turned my brain off and watched Serial stare at the old man with pure venom. In a blink, he swirled, stepping to Jackie and jerking her head up by the hair. The big razor-toothed dagger attached to the glove was poised right across her throat.
My eyes wouldn't work anymore. Everything was fading, turning white, like a heavy fog was descending over the room. Of course, I knew it was all in my head, my brain blotting out something it couldn't comprehend and remain sane.
“A coward?” Serial snorted again. “That's the best piss you can come up with, old fart? Would a coward do this?”
His fingers twitched through the glove. Oh, God. I knew he was getting ready to cut her throat, maybe kill her on the spot, and I started to squirm, forcing my vision to work again.
“No,” Blackjack said coldly. “I expect you to scream like the miserable disgrace to this club you are when you're laid out on the floor. Rabid!”
Two gunshots rang out like thunder bolts. I never knew who drew first and fired. Brass howled through his gag, his body writhing in frustration or relief – I couldn't tell which.
Serial roared, collapsing on the floor, away from Jackie. He screamed and screamed as blood pooled out the hole in his back. His hands twitched and he struggled on the ground, but he couldn't seem to get back up.
Against the wall, the long haired man who'd helped carry Brass in hit the floor, a hole in his head. He was dead before he hit the concrete. Rabid pointed his gun at the other two against the wall.
“Drop your fucking weapons, brothers. I'm not gonna tell you again!”
The two men reached to their waists and the metal clacked on the floor. One kick and they slid it over to Rabid, who caught up with Serial on the floor, standing over him.
Blackjack turned to me and gave a little nod. Then he walked over to Brass. Pulling out a knife and kneeling, he sliced the cords binding his wrists. He cut the gag next, moving to his boots last.
“Jesus, son. It's a good thing I didn't wait a second longer. You'd have rubbed your hands too raw to deal with –“
Brass didn't wait for him to finish. As soon as Blackjack finished with the bindings holding his boots, he bolted up, amazingly fast for a man who'd just taken a beating.
He lunged, landed on Serial, snarling like a wild cougar. The psycho couldn't put up much of a fight. Brass ripped the Mauler off his hand and quickly pushed his own fingers into it, holding it over Serial's face for one agonizing second.
“No, Brass! No, brother...”
With his free hand, Brass ripped him up, bashing his forehead on Serial's before letting his head slump again. “Don't you ever fucking call me that again. You were never my brother, and you never will be. Not even in hell...”
I looked away as he tore into the psychopath's face. Serial only shrieked for about a minute before his cries became gurgling rasps. Then there was nothing at all.
I opened my eyes, first checking to make sure Jackie was still out. Thank God for small favors, because she was.
Blackjack stood over my man and extended a hand. Brass ripped off the blood covered Mauler glove and let it fall on Serial's corpse.
“Why, brother?” Brass asked, taking his hand and standing on his feet again.
“Because I'm tired of watching my club turn into a sadistic freak show under Fang. I've made my choice. Let's kick his ass off the throne. We already tried the democratic way, and it didn't work. It never does when brothers are shaking in their boots while they vote. Here.”
The older man reached into his pocket and handed Brass something. It must've been a set of keys by the way they jingled.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Blackjack growled. “Take the girls somewhere safe. Use my truck. Head north to Oregon – Klamath – and don't do anything 'til you hear more from me. Rabid and I are gonna stay behind and clean this mess up while we figure out who we can trust.”
Brass looked back at me, his eyes wide. He was full killer then, his face spattered with dead Serial's blood, and it was all over his cut, his jeans, and his shirt too. He stopped, giving Blackjack a big hug, pounding his back until the old man fought him off.
“Go. We've got surprise on our side. Now we just need time.”
Brass ran to me. I shook when he wrapped his arms around me, loosening my restraints with the knife in his hand. As soon as I was free, he passed me the switchblade and I ran to Jackie, getting her untied and then lifting her into my arms.
I checked her pulse and breathing. Normal.
“Brass?” I turned.
He was right behind me, waiting in all hi
s blood flecked glory. “You heard the man. We gotta fucking go. No time to stop at the apartment or anywhere else. You got her?”
I nodded. Brass made one more stop near the door, giving Rabid a manly slap on the shoulder.
“Told you I had your back, brother. Me and Blackjack both, soon as we found out what was coming tonight.”
Brass nodded at the lean, muscular man, the way a man can only look at a true brother. I understood then: these guys were family after all. And if the last few weeks taught me anything, it's that there's nothing like embracing family when you don't know if you'll see them alive again.
Jackie was a heavy load in my arms. She'd grown since the last time I ever moved her, years ago at this point. When Brass turned, he saw me struggling, and reached out. I passed her into his strong arms, and we were off.
The place they'd been holding us was huge. It looked like an old abandoned factory, or maybe a shipping center. Rusted metal and cracked cement were everywhere.
I saw the truck parked between a gaggle of bikes. We headed right for it, and Brass handed me the keys to open the door. He passed Jackie back to me when I was in my seat. She barely fit on my lap in the truck.
The dream-like coma my brain was in while I was on that chair started lifting. I looked at him and blinked, feeling the life come back into my tongue.
“Jesus, Brass. Can you believe what just –“
“Don't talk yet, babe. Not 'til we're on the road heading for the state line.”
He pushed the key into the ignition. The truck growled to life, and Jackie twitched in my arms as he peeled a tight circle, aiming for an old gate.
Shit. My sister's eyes lit up and she shook her head, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.
“Hold onto her tight!” Brass growled. “We're gonna hit a little bump when we go over.”
I backed up in my seat and clutched Jackie tight, burying her face in my chest. Bump was an understatement. The truck bounced in the air as it flattened the chain link fence, bounding over a depression in the ground, then tearing through the tall overgrown grass outside for several feet before we hit the road.
Jackie clawed at me like a scared kitten. “Missy? What the fuck?!”
“Shhh. Easy, sis. We're almost home.”
The warehouse – factory? – whatever the hell it was, the place was just a small dot by the time she finally got herself seated between us. My little sister's eyes were bugged out, looking between me and Brass.
“What happened to those men? They knocked out Christa and grabbed me, held something strong to my face so I couldn't breathe...”
I didn't want to say. How was I supposed to explain away the ruthless bastards who'd punched her tutor out and dragged her to the shitty warehouse, where she'd mercifully slept during the torture and death I'd witnessed? But silence was going to panic her. I swallowed hard, trying to make my brain work.
“You had a bad nightmare, Jackie. There's no men, no –“
Brass shot me an angry look. “Don't bullshit the girl, babe. Tell her the truth. We're on the road and we're not coming back here 'til it's safe. I'm protecting you both.”
He was right. Guilt swelled in my chest, and I grabbed my sister's hand, trying to find the strength I'd had just a day ago. Watching Serial nearly rip her to pieces had sucked it out of me – hopefully not forever.
“We got attacked,” I said with a heavy sigh. “It's okay now. Brass and his friends got us out...we're on our way somewhere they can't hurt us anymore. It'll be all right, Jackie. I swear.”
Can you really make those promises? Doubt swirled in my brain. I wanted to believe I could, wanted to keep her safe...but if it wasn't for the other men, even Brass wouldn't have been able to save us this time.
“Stop talking to me like I'm a fucking kid!” Jackie screamed, shoving me in the shoulder.
“Jackie!” I grabbed her wrists, trying to hold her down.
She was surprisingly strong for a teen. Brass' knuckles went white as he gripped the steering wheel, trying to ignore the screaming match going on inside the truck.
“I've been through the exact same crap as you, sis. It's like you've forgotten,” Jackie said, tears sliding down her red cheeks. “Daddy died and screwed up big time, leaving us money we never deserved. I get that. I know it's the reason these men captured us. I can put two and two together, Missy. I'm old enough to handle this.”
You shouldn't have to, I wanted to say. But she was right – and it hurt for me to see the cold truth. All this hell we'd been through forced my little sister to grow up before her time.
“It's my job to make sure you don't have to,” I snapped. “And...and I think I'm fucking failing at it. You want the truth? I don't know what tomorrow's going to bring anymore. I want to find a way out for both of us, and I keep digging, trying to find the light...but there's just more darkness ahead. Even when Brass is in the lead. There's so many things he can't control. No one can.”
“Whatever.” Jackie covered her face, turning away from me and burrowing into the worn seat.
“You said your piece,” Brass said, glancing at me as he drove. “Let her get some rest. We had a close fucking call back there. We'll all feel better by morning.”
I looked through the darkness at him, annoyed. I shouldn't have needed any advice about how to handle this...but shit, what did I really know about this life? What did I know about my own sister?
“You told her the truth, babe. That's all you can do, and all I expect. I'm gonna tell you straight too – the next few weeks are gonna be rough. Don't know where it's gonna end. As long as everybody's open and honest, we'll get through it. Right now, my whole focus is keeping you two safe while we get into Oregon. Then I'll figure out the rest, soon as I hear from Blackjack.” He turned away, keeping his attention on the road. “I love you, babe.”
The words hit me in the chest like an icepick. It was too much to process after everything that just happened. I couldn't speak, so I reached for his hand, gingerly placing my fingers over his on the wheel.
Brass flashed me a knowing smile. For now, that was all I needed.
Jackie slept through the entire trip. Not that I minded one bit. I was feeling pretty drowsy myself by the time we rolled into Klamath Falls after about three hours on the dark, mountainous roads.
We parked the truck and found a hotel with vacancies after a quick stop at a local department store. He sent me in to pick up fresh clothes. He changed before we went into the hotel, doing it in the pickup part, stuffing the bloody clothes in a black bag in the back. Everything except his cut, which would be easier to clean up.
When he was done, we headed inside. Jackie sulked in behind us while Brass got everything set up, then we followed him to the room. He threw me some cash to order a pizza.
We were outside on the main deck, next to a crappy looking pool. I heard him outside talking on his cell. It sounded intense. Jackie was taking a long shower, anything to lengthen her time away from me right now, so I stepped out too.
“Jesus Christ. You've only got half the numbers, Blackjack,” he growled into his phone. “Fang's gonna call in other charters to defend his own ass. The cartel war won't matter with the reinforcements he'll bring to Redding.”
The other voice on the line was gruff, determined. I couldn't quite make out what he was saying.
“Really? Fucking who? Me and ten other guys aren't nearly enough to stand a chance of dethroning that motherfucker when he'll have double the brothers there in a week.”
More rough orders from Blackjack. More tension on my man's face. I leaned in and squeezed his arm.
Suddenly, he tore himself away from me, stumbling to the edge of the pool. “You gotta be fucking shitting me, Blackjack! You're really talking about treason now.”
There was a long pause. I could practically see his jaw hanging on the floor before he finally responded.
“Shit. Fuck. It's just...working with the fucking Prairie Pussies?!” He paused, taking a long, sl
ow breath. “Okay. Yeah, I'll call her.”
I crept up behind him as he ended the call, moving my hands on his shoulders. “What's wrong? Don't drop the phone in the pool now...”
He turned around and gave me a cynical look. “I'm pissed, but I'm not stupid, babe. Shit's about to get a whole lot more complicated.”
“Yeah? Where are we going next?” God, he was tense.
My hands roamed his rock hard muscles, admiring and nervous at the same time. I just wanted to calm him down, let him know that I appreciated everything he'd done.
Against the odds, he'd kept his word. He kept us safe, and now he was taking us away from all this.
He was a rock. My rock. Over six feet of pure masculine granite, inked with an animal that still scared the hell out of me, a beast that only seemed to share his spirit.
I couldn't depend on the world, but I could depend on him.
Brass. Jordan. My old man.
“We gotta head up to Missoula. There's another club up there...the Prairie Devils.” He growled the name through his teeth when he said it, giving me the real one instead of the crude slang I'd heard thrown around before. “Blackjack's setting shit up now. If we weren't short on manpower, I'd say he's outta his fucking mind asking for their help. But my sister's got an in with their club. She's married to their Prez, Blaze.”
Now, it all came together. I smiled, smoothing my hands on him like he was clay. If only it were so easy to rub away the anger spiking out of his skin in a static aura. I was about to move in for a kiss when the door to our room swung open.
Jackie stuck her head out, wrapped in a towel, and called to us. “Pizza's here!”
“Be right there,” Brass said, easing me away.
Before he got two steps further, I reached for his shirt, grabbing a fistful. “Wait.”
He spun, staring me up and down.
“I should've said it right away, but I was too damned shocked. What you said on the ride in...” I paused, readying myself to speak the crazy truth out loud. “I love you too. I trust you. I'm here for you, Brass, ready to be your old lady. I mean it for real this time. We're not playing around anymore.”
