Root (Band Nerd Book 2)

by Danica Avet

  “You keep tellin’ people about your business, Root. Not exactly a good way to keep shit low profile,” a voice drawls from the shadows.

  I sigh and look up to see Terrible strolling up to us. “What the fuck’s up with you and appearing and disappearing in shadows?”

  “More importantly,” Savage adds with a frown. “Why do these motherfuckers keep breaking into what’s supposed to be a secure compound?”

  Terrible shrugs, lighting a smoke. “I’m a hacker. He’s a thug,” he says with a nod of his head to Rien, who just grunts. “We’re just stayin’ true to ourselves.”

  He sits in the chair farthest from us, sprawling in it really, as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. “I’m guessing you’re here to let us know it’s over with?”

  A long, slow drag on the cigarette is my answer.

  My spine stiffens and every muscle in my body tenses. I sit forward, pinning him in place with a glower. “You didn’t get it?”

  He snorts, letting out a little cough as he chokes a bit on the smoke. “Are you shittin’ me? It was like taking candy from a baby.” He waves his hand. “Asswipe didn’t even know I was in his system until I cleared everything out and left him a little parting gift.”

  Relief is like shedding twenty tons of weight from my shoulders. In fact, I go almost completely boneless with it, sinking back into my chair with a sigh. I’m almost light-headed with it. We’re good. Lena’s safe, no one got hurt—well, except for Nathan and whoever did that gets my thanks—and we can just get on with life. Building one for ourselves.

  “Too easy,” Rien mutters next to me.

  Rolling my head on the back of my chair, I see he’s frowning at Terrible. “What?”

  He lights up as well, his movements sharp and fast. “It’s too easy. Something ain’t right.”

  “What the hell about this has been easy?” I ask, completely flabbergasted. “The sick fuck had videos of me and my girl, was blackmailing us. We made a deal with the devil,” I say with a wave of my hand at Terrible.

  “I can just feel the appreciation,” the hacker murmurs.

  I ignore him to concentrate on Rien. “Nathan got his ass beat by someone, we got the videos taken care of, but it cost us two favors.” I stop and look at Terrible. “It better not be illegal either. So how is any of this easy?” I demand of my brother.

  But of course, it’s Terrible who answers. “Because you’re about to offer me another favor.”

  I cut a look at him that should’ve wiped the smile off his face, but the fucker’s immune to my glare. “What gives you that idea?”

  His smile is grim. “Pellegrin isn’t finished with Blondie. Not by a long shot.”

  I’m on my feet and across the distance separating us without even realizing it. Not until I have my hands on his shirt hauling him to his feet. “What the fuck do you mean by that?” I growl, my temper mounting, outpaced only by sudden fear.

  Terrible looks me right in the eyes. “He’s planning to get his money one way or another, and Lena’s his target.”

  “How?” Rien asks, coming to stand beside me.

  The hacker asshole should be pissing his pants with us crowding him, all of us, since Savage has stepped up on the other side of me, but Terrible looked about as scared of as he would of a kitten. He doesn’t look at the others, his attention focused on me and me alone.

  “What do you mean?” I ask through clenched teeth, the blood in my veins pumping hot and fast.

  Dark eyes glare at me, gauging me, studying me without malice, but without compassion either. If I had to compare Terrible to anything, it’d be a snake. Cool, calculating, and just about as fucking trustworthy. He doesn’t even blink, holding my eyes without breaking a sweat. I’ve had defenders twice his size look away from me when I’m like this, but Terrible? Not worried in the least.

  His gaze flicks down, where my fists are clenching his T-shirt, before he looks at me with calm expectation. Knowing I won’t get a goddamn thing out of him until I let go, I force my fingers to release their hold on the material. It takes everything I have not to just start beating the shit out of him, but the threat to Lena is much more important to me than showing Terrible why it’s best to avoid pissing me off.

  Calmly stooping down, he picks up the cigarette he dropped when I grabbed him, bringing it to his lips. Peering at me through the smoke, he says, “I mean, one of the extra services I provide to all customers is a follow through.” When we look at him blankly, he sighs. “I tapped the fucktard’s phone, make sure he didn’t have another copy of the video. About four hours ago, I found out he did. A hard copy that showed to someone else.”

  “Fuck,” I groan. “Who is it?”

  “I’ll get it,” Rien says quietly, lethally.

  But Terrible shakes his head. “That’s not the point I’m trying to make here.”

  “Stop fucking around and tell me!” I roar in his face, reaching my breaking point.

  For the first time since I’ve seen Terrible, ever, something that resembles concern darkens his face. “Nathan showed these people the video the same day he showed it to you. He’s a fucktard, but he has moments of sheer evil genius because the people he shared it with are the Montez crew.”

  Rien sucks in a shocked breath, but I don’t care what gangbangers have the video. I want it back. I want to end this whole fucking charade.

  “So we’ll get the video from Nathan and that’ll be it.”

  “They don’t want the fucking video, Root,” Terrible says harshly. “That isn’t why Nathan showed it to them.”

  My brother is vibrating with tension and even Savage has gone predator still next to me. They know something I don’t. They all know something. But Rien’s the only one I trust to give it to me straight.

  Swiveling my head, I look at him to see his face is stark white, the vein in his forehead pulsing with temper. “Who are they and why did Nathan share the tape with them?”

  His jaw bunches. He finally meets my gaze. “They’re into a lot of shit. The Dogs have had dealings with ’em, not the good kind. Drugs and guns, but their main source is girls.” I stiffen, dread pooling in my stomach. Then Rien hammers the final nail in my coffin. “A few of The Dogs’ club whores have gone missing, disappearing into thin air. Word is the Montez’s have ties with a human trafficking ring.”

  I shake my head, my ears buzzing. Everything seems a little distorted as I look from Rien to Terrible, then to Savage, whose eyes almost burn with anger and fear. The same emotions currently beating a mad rhythm through my brain, but nowhere near as panicked as I’m starting to feel.

  “He’s her stepfather,” I say hoarsely, even though I know how stupid the statement is, I say it anyway. “He wouldn’t…” I shake my head again, bile rising in my throat. “He wouldn’t give her—”

  Terrible clears his throat, drawing my gaze once more, but this time he isn’t looking at me. He’s staring at some point over my shoulder as he drops his next bomb. “They’re willing to pay him fifty thousand dollars for her. And considering his bet was revoked because his bookie was tipped off about his attempt to fix the game, plus he owes another very dangerous person thirty-five thousand dollars, I’d say Pellegrin would do just about anything to stay alive. And make a profit from doing it.”

  “The favor’s yours, whatever you want,” I tell him harshly before spinning on my heel and heading for the house. “I need to get Lena. Now.”

  But even as I start inside, I know it’s too late.

  Lena

  “Lena?” Patti calls out just as I enter the kitchen to check on my next order. I turn to see my manager scurrying towards me with a frown on her face.

  “Hey, I’m just getting table six’s order n—”

  But she shakes her head and grabs my wrist, spinning back to tow me in the direction she’d just come from. “Don’t worry about that right now. I’ll get Price to take your tables.”

  I dig in my heels a little, but the floors in the kitchen
always have a little moisture on them from the dishwashers and now she’s just dragging me. “What’s going on?” I ask, completely baffled.

  Despite all the craziness going on in my life right now, my shift has been pretty mundane. Sure, Becca, Nessie, and Jolene have been sitting at the bar for the last two hours, flirting with Josh and watching me like a hawk, but everything else has been…weirdly normal.

  Until now.

  “I was bringing the trash out when—”

  She shakes her head hard, but not hard enough to dislodge a strand of her heavily sprayed hair. She’s stressing out. I can feel how damp her palm is against my skin. Wondering what I did wrong, I tug on my hand, trying to get her to let me go.

  “I didn’t leave the lid open,” I say, thinking that has to be what she’s talking about. Cassie’s done that plenty of times when it was her time to help clean up and we’re always left with a mess when the stray cats start dumpster diving. “I didn’t even take the trash out last.”

  “That’s not what we need to talk about,” she says harshly, dragging me to the back door. She looks around and I do as well. We’re alone, but several of the busboys, dishwashers, and cooks are watching us by pretending they aren’t. Patti takes my other hand. “Lena,” she starts in a voice that’s soft and compassionate. “I went out to throw the trash and I found someone back there.”

  My eyes widen. “What? Did you call the police? Did they hurt you?” Then I frown. “Wait, why are you telling me about this?”

  Her lips thin. “It’s your mom.” My heart stops and my skin goes cold. She nods. “She’s… She’s in bad shape, Lena. Beat up, but when I told her I was calling the police, she said she needed to see you. Now.”

  I shake my head, thoroughly confused. Why is Mom here? Asking for me if she needs help? I’m not delusional. We don’t have the kind of relationship others do with their mothers. Like Nessie and her mom who are best friends, or Becca and her mom who have a definite mother-daughter relationship, but one that’s filled with love. My mom can barely say two words to me when she’s lucid, which doesn’t happen much anymore. Not with the pills and alcohol.

  Still, she’s my mom. “Okay,” I say a little shakily. Giving Patti a small, fake smile, I put my hand on the door to go outside and pause.

  Why? I don’t know exactly. I feel the usual trepidation and uncertainty I always do when it comes to seeing her. Now though, those feelings are trebled, coiling in my stomach like a slithery snake. There’s so much going on right now with Ivan working to get the videos from Nathan and Anders’ been on a very short leash from worry. He hadn’t wanted me to even come to work tonight, but I’d thrown a minor fit.

  He doesn’t want me to be vulnerable and if I go out this door now, I will be. I turn to Patti. “My friends are at the bar,” I tell her. “They’re in the seats closest to the door. Could you let them know I’m out there?” Patti looks confused. She has no idea what my personal life is like, no clue why I’d be hesitant to meet with my own mother. And I’m not about to let her in on my dirty secrets now. So, I settle for a half-truth. “They’ll be able to help me with her.” And be there in case something goes bad.

  Patti’s face clears and she nods. “I’ll let them know.”

  Another fake smile. “Thanks.”

  She looks at me expectantly and I take a deep breath. Okay, I can do this. I can handle Mom until the cavalry arrives. She probably just wants me to take her to the hospital. Which is weird, but as far as I know Nathan’s never hit her before, so maybe she’s freaking out and doesn’t know what to do. She could just be seeking comfort in the only other relative she has.

  I push open the door and step into the employee parking lot. The door closes behind me, making me jump. Stupid. The lot is well-lit and clean, allowing me to see Mom sitting on the concrete next to my car, her head in her hands. She doesn’t even look up at the noise of the door slamming shut, but I can hear her crying.

  I do another sweep of the darkening lot. The sun’s been trying to set for at least an hour, leaving behind light in hues of orange and pinkish red. Shadows are starting to form, but no one else is out here.

  I don’t know what I expect to happen. It’s as though my imagination has grasped this unusual situation and decided to turn it into something out of a movie. You know the kind. The heroine, thinking it’s safe, decides today’s the perfect day to go back down that dark path through the woods and then BAM! she’s surprised by her stalker.

  Just Hollywood trying to scare the general public. Like that channel for women that shows nothing but movies about women who’re dating, married to, or divorced from a killer. Perfect television for the single girl. I still can’t help but hold my breath, trying to listen for anyone else. Nothing. Just Mom sniffling into her hands.

  Yet that doesn’t ease my nervousness. I should’ve just gone to get the others before coming to see Mom. I shuffle forward, craning my neck to peek behind the dumpster. No one there. Okay, so it’s just us. Just us chickens.

  Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, I start striding across the lot. “Mom?” I call out, not wanting to scare her if she truly hadn’t heard the door close behind me.

  She twitches, one of her hands falling limply and that’s when I see her profile. And blood. Skin dark with bruises. My stride turns into a jog, my heart pounding a panicked rhythm. She really is hurt and when I finally drop to the ground next to her, I gasp.

  I’ve seen Mom in a lot of unflattering moments. After a night heavy on the alcohol and pills. When she hadn’t slept in two days, frantically cleaning the house—which doesn’t happen as much anymore from the way things had been the last time I visited her. I’ve seen her dull-eyed and listless, a small line of drool glistening on her chin. But this…

  My hand lifts as though to touch her, but she flinches, instinctively ducking to protect her battered face. “Mom,” I whisper, lowering my arm. I feel so useless. But I’m not. I’m not useless. I can help her. “Let’s get you to the hospital, okay?”

  She’s shaking her head, her blackening eyes swimming with tears. “No, I can’t.”

  “Mom, you need help,” I say gently, though firmly. If she fights me on this, I’ll… Well, I’ll take a page from Anders’ book and stuff her in my car.

  Eyeing her, I try to estimate how much she weighs. The T-shirt she’s wearing has capped sleeves, revealing how truly thin she’s become. Most of the time, she goes around in oversized sweats, or baggy sweaters, or big house dresses with bell sleeves, but now— My brain stutters as my gaze lands on the inside of her arm. The bend of her elbow to be exact.

  There’s a cluster of circular scars. Some are red with streaks extending up and down her arm. Others are almost silvery, but puckered. My eyes sweep to the other arm to see the exact same patterns there.

  Images flip through my mind like a flickering, old-time style movie. In every one of them, Mom’s wearing a cardigan. She wears one nearly all the time. Even in the hottest parts of the summer. I’ve never really seen her in anything that doesn’t cover her arms, not even her pajamas because, as far back as fifth grade, I would get up by myself while she slept in. But now, seeing these marks and knowing what they are, I know why I’ve never seen her arms.

  “Mom?” I ask, my voice cracking. I sound like a little girl seeking assurance.

  She rubs her hands up her arms, bending them to hide the track marks. “He wouldn’t give me any more,” she says in a whisper. “He said there’s no money. I need it. He knows that, but I can’t get it.”

  ‘It’ is drugs, I’m guessing. I force my gaze from her arms to her face. Specifically her eyes which are kind of wild and glassy.

  “Do you have money?” she asks me. “I just need a little bit. Just until we can get more.”

  I swallow hard, shifting my weight until I’m balanced on my feet, although I still crouch next to her. “Nathan?” I ask stupidly.

  Except she doesn’t call me on that. She just nods. “Yes. He always gives me what I n
eed.” Her pale lips curl in a trembling smile. “Ever since you were a baby, Nathan was there, giving me what I needed.” She closes her eyes as though she can remember those days.

  Meanwhile, I’m not sure my eyes could get any wider as shock rolls through me.

  “What?”

  A soft clicking sound comes from behind me. “Yeah, she’s been sucking my cock and lettin’ me fuck every hole since right after you were born,” Nathan’s oily voice brags. “Because I’m the one who gives her what she needs.”

  Anders

  They wouldn’t let me leave right away. Savage took my keys and Rien planted himself in front of the door. I could’ve bowled right over him, snatched up the keys to his Harley and left, but Terrible once again had shit to say.

  “It’s taken care of,” he drawls as though Nathan’s plans were merely an inconvenience. “He’s not grabbing her until she gets off of work, so you have time to get down there. And I already have someone else set to take care of things.”

  “Who?” It seems every time I turn around, someone else comes into play. As though this is a big chess match the hacker’s manipulating to suit his needs.

  He shrugged. “Just someone who’s just as vested in this situation as we are.”

  “You mean as we are,” Savage says, disgust clear in his voice. “You’re a fucking opportunist, Terrible.”

  “Never said I wasn’t, Golden Boy,” he sneers. “But at least I work for what I have. Can you say the same?”

  Savage steps forward, ready to shove those words down Terrible’s throat, but Rien brings the brewing fight to a quick end by pulling out his nine. I’d just started for the door again. I don’t need this shit. I need Lena. Alive, well, and in my arms.

  “He owes money to someone bigger ’n badder than all of us,” Terrible finally says, as soon as my hand was on the door knob. I pause. “He borrowed that money to gamble with and the bookie kept it, so now he owes someone who’ll make him wish he were dead.”