by Amo Jones
I squeeze the bag in my hand, knocked off my feet at her question. “I tried.”
She takes another step closer to me, and just when I think she’s going to say something hurtful, or maybe even hit me, her shoulders sag in defeat. “I’m sorry.” Her eyes fly over my shoulder, landing on Royce’s room. A different kind of pain flashes over her face before she comes back to me. “He’s going to make you his.”
“What?” I snap, almost angry that she’s bringing this up right now. Like she really wants to go down that road after Bonnie just died in my fucking arms. I want to rip out her fake hair and sink my fingernails into her eyeballs.
“I’ve seen how he is with you. Different. He moves like a possessive animal anytime you’re near. He shared me out, but I can’t see him doing that with you.”
I run the palm of my hand over my cheek to stop me from balling it into a fist and accidentally hitting her. “Why are you telling me this and right now, of all times?”
Her blues come down to me, because I’m a whole few inches shorter than her.
“Because I don’t think you deserve him. I see it in your eyes. The deceit, the secrets you’re holding from him. That man would tear the flesh off of people just to ensure your safety, yet you—” She pauses, and my fingers twitch into the palm of my hand. “You can’t even be honest.” She spins around before I can hit her and disappears through another door, slamming it closed. That bitch doesn’t know a fucking thing about Royce and me, and I don’t have to explain it to anyone.
But is she right?
With new worries now fresh in my mind, I make my way back downstairs and to the kitchen, where Slim is seated with Roo. Movement interrupts me through the crack in the curtain and I watch the police tape the scene, with Lion and Gypsy still outside.
“The police?” I don’t know why, but it’s the first thing that I think about. It strikes me as odd that outlaws would have the cops at their pad.
Roo swipes his thick thumb over his mug, nodding his head. “Yeah, they’re all in our pocket, with the exception of the little fucking redhead that keeps looking into the kitchen. There was history with her and one of our other brothers from another chapter. That tight ass doesn’t just have beef with us, she has a whole fucking butchery.”
I ignore his comment, just as Slim points to the plastic bag I’m holding. “Clothes?” He stands from the table and takes it from me. “I’ll get rid of it.”
“Thank you,” I murmur just as my phone vibrates in the waistband of my pants.
(image)
Now it’s your turn to play. Be out the front in four minutes and bring nothing.
The blood drains from my face, my knees turning to Jell-O.
“Wow, you alright?” Roo asks, watching me before looking down to my phone.
I clutch it to my chest. “Yes. Ah, I’m just—I need a minute.” I rush back upstairs and yank on my Vans, jogging back down the stairs.
“Jade, just stay inside, babe,” I hear someone say, but I ignore them.
I ignore every single person who tries to stop me from leaving this house.
I ignore the stares from the officers who are looking at me strangely as I pass them.
And I ignore the calls of Lion as I pick up to a jog, bolting out the gate. I see nothing but my best friend, my sister in harm. They probably all think that I’ve lost my mind after what happened with Bonnie, which is partially true, but nothing, and I mean nothing, would have prepared me for the photo I just saw.
Nothing.
So when the black Maserati that I’m so familiar with comes into view, idling at the curb, I run for it. I run so fucking fast that my lungs burn and the tears in my eyes dry. Pulling open the door, I climb into the passenger seat and face James with newfound rage.
“Where the fuck is she!”
Torture is a weapon, not a kill shot. It’s an art, and it just so happens to be something I excel at. The human body is expendable. The sole purpose for it is to heal itself. Amazing if you really think about it. I don’t. Not often, anyway. But when I have someone hanging from his tied hands connected to the ceiling of a basement, blood spilling out of his mouth and nose, and his jeans with piss stains drenched through the fabric, it’s the only thing I can think about.
Placing a cigarette in between my lips, I boot the man with the sole of my heavy foot and chuckle. “You’re lucky as fuck it’s not me you pissed off today.”
The basement is tidy, with glossed out walls, mountains of kegs, and boxes of alcohol and wine. This bar isn’t a shady strip joint or a scroungy hole in the wall type of bar; this is on the higher end of every scale. Allure is a cocktail bar in the heart of the city that attracts men and women with deep wallets. That’s how WPMC do things. We never make the obvious choice. We’re the wolves lurking behind the shadows of wealth. My phone vibrates against my thigh and I wipe the blood from my hands with my bandana—the same one I fucked Jade with last night—swiping it unlocked while taking the cigarette out of my mouth, blowing out smoke. “He’s ready for you. Found out the cartel told him to shoot warning shots and the dumb fuck just so happened to spray stray bullets out.”
“On my way, but there’s something you need to know.” His strident tone doesn’t bother me or throw me off. His wife just died in his arms.
“What’s that?”
“Jade took off somewhere. Didn’t see where. She was too quick for any of us to catch her.”
“What?” I bark, but then count to ten in my head when I realize I need to ask someone that isn’t Lion about where the fuck she went. “Alright, well I’ll head back to the clubhouse. We’re at Allure.” I hang up my phone and snatch the keys to my bike.
“You off?” Wicked asks from the other side of the room, flicking the gold rings around on his finger, disinterested.
“Yeah. Jade has run off.”
“What?” Wicked stands to his feet quickly, brows pulled in. “I’m coming.”
“Why?” I pull on the door, leaving Fluff in the room with the dumb fuck while exiting through the emergency back exit.
Wicked swings his leg over his bike. “Because I’ve been trying to play with shit in my head, and something doesn’t add up. I want to be there when you ask around, see if I pick up anything.”
I turn my head toward him, flicking my cigarette onto the gravel. “You think this has to do with her little boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Wicked says, and we both start up our bikes.
“Someone tell me something!” I say as soon as we’re back at the clubhouse and I’ve parked my bike. I make my way to the first man I see, who just so happens to be Roo. He ambles toward me with his wide shoulders and thick trunk legs.
“Yeah, bro. She came down to the kitchen after her shower, chill as fuck and holding a plastic bag filled with her bloodied clothes. She got a text or some shit on her phone and her whole demeanor shifted. I watched as she tensed, her eyes fucking burned through me when I asked her what was wrong. She pressed her phone to her chest and bolted. I tried to chase her, got to the gate, but she had already gotten into a dark Maserati with no plates.”
“Black?” I ask, unfamiliar panic twitches in my gut. “You sure it was black?”
Roo flips me off. “Yes. I’m not colorblind.” Instantly reaching for my phone, I find her number and hit dial.
“Think that’s her boyfriend’s car?” Roo asks, brow cocked.
I grind my teeth when her voicemail hits. “Don’t know.”
“You don’t care that I just called him her boyfriend?” Roo has a tendency of putting humor in everything and in other times, I would welcome it, but I don’t think that’s what he’s doing right now.
“I don’t give a fuck,” I scoff, hitting dial again.
“Why the sudden change of attitude?” Roo further urges, and he’s starting to get on my last fucking nerve.
I hold him in place. “Because I’m her fucking man.”
“Alright, Tarzan,” Roo jokes.
Wicked�
��s eyes zero in on Roo. “So she left with nothing but what she was wearing?”
Roo nods, and I watch their conversation while I continuously hit dial on her phone.
After the fifth time, I bring it back down to type out a text when I receive a FaceTime call from an unknown number. I know who it is when it’s unknown. A growl escapes my mouth, bubbled with frustration. Annoyed that Diamond is picking now of all fucking times to bother me with his fucking games. Tapping on the video, it opens to a girl in a sleek black dress with her back turned to me. The same girl he always uses in the videos he sends me. Her hair is straightened dead flat, falling to her lower back, but that’s not what piques my interest first. It’s the long bunny ears from the half mask that she’s wearing. Her slim fingers flex from behind as he moves backward, the silence loud enough to pierce my eardrums. It feels different this time.
“Bunny.” His voice is slow, more intimate now. Even with his bullshit machine hiding it. “Turn around for me like a good little girl.”
“Yo! I don’t have fu—” Dread fills me as she slowly turns and the side of her profile cuts through the lens. When the girl finally faces me, her green eyes popping up at me through the leather black mask, my anger takes control and my fist flies through the back window of my car. “Fuck!” I yell, clutching the phone in my hand. Wicked and Roo gather closer, but everything else ceases to exist except for what I’m watching on my phone.
“You see this, Royce? She makes a cute little bunny, don’t you agree?” He moves the camera around her body as she drops to her knees, ropes tied behind her back. Her eyes glass over, vacant, submissive, as he gently runs his finger down her black mask and over her petite face. “I planned this to end differently, but you just couldn’t play along, could you, Bunny.” H?” is suit comes into view as his hand dips lower, down to the front of her breasts. The muscles in my jaw jolts, my shoulders squaring as undiluted rage simmers to the surface of my skin.
I steady my breathing, unable to fucking see straight. “You fucked up now.”
His laugh is a loud cackle that shoots straight through my ears and hits all of my anger points on its way out. His face appears at the lens, only he’s wearing a ski mask to hide behind. “I was counting on it.”
Wrath deepens its claws into my skin as the video continues to play. Her clothes aren’t torn, a black dress clinging to her tiny figure. She looks dressed for an event. My palms itch with sweat, heat flushing through me. I’m going to kill this motherfucker.
I feel Wicked come up behind me to see the video. His energy shifts so drastically that I pause, flicking up to see what his problem is. His face is pale, all color drained from his skin. He’s zoned in on the video, jaw clenching. “Jesus Christ.” He shakes his head, stumbling backward. “I should have known.”
“Known what?” I snap at him as the video continues to play in my hand.
“It’s fucking her.” He buries his hands into his hair, tugging on the ends in frustration. “I should have known,” he croaks.
“I’m losing my fucking patience,” I grate, my eyes pinned on his.
He clears his throat. “She was in my den.”
I still, blood turning cold. “You got the wrong one. This is about me. Diamond took her because of me.”
Wicked shakes his head firmly, his demeanor softening. I know he’s not fucking around. “She was in my den. After you all left.”
My mouth slams closed. I’ll address this later, right now we’re on the clock. I need to know what the fuck is going on.
“What the fuck do you want?” I say into the camera.
His laugh is loud enough to rock the ground under my feet. I need to control my anger. Wait on it. Hold on to it like a loaded gun and only fire it when I have him within reach. The camera moves and I catch movement in the corner where another girl is curled. When she looks up to the lens, I instantly notice it as being Sloane. What the fuck. Why would he take Sloane as well. Jade is enough to move me to do whatever the fuck he wants. Sloane looks different from how Jade looks. No dress. No mask. The fear that is etched into her face makes it obvious that she hasn’t been injured in this world.
Why doesn’t Jade have that same air of fear?
My eyes swing back to Jade. Placid. Vacant. Stoic. Unmoving. Dead inside. It all makes sense. Wicked is telling the truth. There’s more to Jade than what she’s been telling me, and definitely to what I know. Has this fuck been fucking with her since I left too?
“I’m going to find you, I’m going to unmask and find out who you are, and then I’m going to peel the flesh from your bones.”
“Tsk, tsk,” he says, waving his finger in front of the camera. “You really shouldn’t make threats while I have your most—” He pauses behind Jade, his hands dipping inside the slit of her dress. I squeeze the phone in my hand as I watch movement beneath the dress. “Prized possession.” His breathy laughter lingers. “She’s nice and wet. Just how much do you know about your innocent little Duchess, Royce? Do you know that she requires a certain level of pain to enjoy being fucked?” He stands from his position and wipes his finger over his suit. “Which admittedly is why I always make sweet, sweet love to her. It’s all a torture game. So let me ask you,” he says, finally picking up the camera. “Do you want to play?”
“Just say yes,” Wicked growls from beside me. I gape up at Wicked with a scowl, who mouths, “We will kill him.”
I come back to my phone. “Yeah, game on.” I cast a look over to Slim, who peers up from his laptop that’s on top of the hood of my car. “You get it?”
“It was hard. He had all sorts of coding and anonymous bullshit wired to his location. He was good.” Slim grins up at me. “But I’m better.”
“You smart little fuck.”
Wicked pulls open the passenger door, sliding in as Slim, Roo, Billie, and Fury, all run to their bikes. Today will go down as one of the worst days in fucking history. I need Jade back safe. Whether she’s going to be back in my arms or not is up to how this plays out.
We’re on the highway with Slim, Fury, and Fluff rolling behind us. Roo and Fury split off to roll up in a different direction, needing to set up at their location. The air between Wicked and I is tense. More tense than ever. I pull out my phone and hit dial on Lion. He answers on the fifth ring.
“Yeah?” I can almost hear the satisfaction in his voice. Must be a deep blood bath in that basement right now.
“Jade is in trouble. Has to do with Diamond. He sent me a fucking video of her tied and gagged with a fucking mask on.”
Silence.
I carry on. “Turns out Wicked says she was in his den.”
“You got enough men with you?”
“Yeah, I think. Just put the word out to the Nevada chapter. Might need them to roll in if shit goes south. Don’t know how many people Diamond has on his bankroll.”
Lion grunts on the other line. “They’re already here, almost at the clubhouse. Along with New Mexico and Oregon. Idaho and Texas wanted in, but I held them back for now. Gonna be a lot of angry fuckers at the clubhouse over the next few days.”
“Good.” I grind my teeth, biting back the satisfaction that brings me. “Perfect.”
“Sort your woman out.” Lion’s voice is thick. “And Royce, don’t be a fucking idiot with her and go in guns blazing ready to rip her apart. Let her explain.”
I hang up on him without answering. I don’t need anyone in my head where Jade is concerned. She occupies all the space I have available as it is.
“He’s right,” Wicked murmurs.
“Shut the fuck up. Tell me everything.”
Wicked shuffles in his chair. “Remember the day you all got thrown into my den?”
Yeah…
“We shouldn’t be running or fighting him. Something tells me whoever this sick fuck is, he’s smart. Smarter than even Storm,” Orson said, bouncing the ball between his legs and passing it to me.
I shrugged. “He’s fucking human, man. If we give him the
power now, who the fuck knows the kind of shit he’s going to pull with us over the years.” I flicked my wrist and shot from the three-point line.
Orson caught my rebound. “I say we make it clear where we stand right the fuck now.” We were supposed to be out of the Bay Area fucking yesterday, and although I want to rebel against whoever this fucker is, something tells me that he isn’t someone you want to fuck with.
“Except we’re gambling with Jade and the rest of our family.” I go to steal the ball from under the hoop, bouncing backward to shoot up.
“I think he’s full of shit.” Storm, the most he has said since this whole thing kicked off.
I paused mid-bounce. “And why is that?”
“Why us? Why? He’s just trying to either pull a prank or fuck with us. I say, fuck him.” He pulled his aviator glasses down to cover his eyes.
“Alright,” Orson said, swiping the sweat from his forehead and tossing the towel back onto the pool chair. “We should tell our parents. They’re powerful, let’s utilize it.”
Clasping my gold chain back around my neck, I nod my head. “Yeah, my dad is in his office. We’ll start with him.”
“Your old man is right,” Orson said after we left his office and headed back to my room. Jade wasn’t home yet, which made me antsy. I sent her off a quick text message to ask her what time she would be back and tell her that she was late. A few minutes later she sent back the middle finger emoji. My fingers flew over my keypad before I sent off the word: brat.
I pushed my phone back into my pocket and kicked my leg up on the desk. “Yeah, he didn’t want us to say anything to your parents. He said he would handle it. I trust him.”
“You do?” Storm murmured flatly, opening his laptop.
“Why would I not? He’s my dad.” His answer was weird, but that was Storm.
He shrugged. “I just wasn’t so sure.”
Orson picked up the basketball that was beside my bed and started spinning it around the tip of his finger. “So now we wait.”
“We wait.”
