Reconstruct Me (Breakneck Book 5)

by Crystal Spears

  I pat the pockets on my dress and remember I left my phone in my room. I can’t even be angry with myself over it, I didn’t know I’d be leaving the compound.

  “Red, J,” Shadow roars, and it rumbles throughout the club. “Fuck!”

  Shadow doesn’t call me J, so I know he’s trying to warn me, and where the hell have I heard red before when it pertains to the brotherhood?

  Winter!

  She’s where I’ve heard it.

  Oh, god!

  “Desk J. Remember the fuckin’ desk,” he roars again and then groans.

  Desk?

  I assume the desk in his office, but I don’t even know where the damn office is.

  “Touch me again motherfucker,” Seneca yells with a growl. “I’ll make your death more painful.”

  Really?

  I learned really quick in captivity you don’t threaten your captors, they need to shut the hell up so I can think, and I can’t think if I’m worried about them.

  I know from paying bills, the club has two phone lines; one for calls and the other for the fax line. I bet those lines are in the damn office too, because of the nature of the club. Privacy and crap.

  My first instinct is to hide, but I know it’s wrong. I’ve got direct orders from Shadow, and I got to figure out how to get it done. The first lesson I had in self-defense was to learn to differentiate sounds; the brothers live by it too.

  I close my eyes and listen to the voices speaking in Spanish.

  Two low pitched accents.

  One medium octave accent.

  I know Shadow didn’t scream out a count because the captors would have figured out there’s another person here.

  One broken accent.

  My eyes fly open.

  Four men!

  I stand back up, palming the key Shadow gave me in my left hand, and take a deep breath. I have no choice but to leave the safety of the dark room. I got to trust Shadow wouldn’t lead me into a trap, and my path to the office is somewhat clear.

  There’re still too many obstacles in my way.

  I groan and happen to look up, spotting a tiled ceiling.

  Please don’t be sealed shut.

  Please don’t be sealed shut.

  Please don’t be sealed shut.

  I inch along the wall until I reach a dresser of some kind. I tuck the key into my bra and climb on top of it as quietly as I can. I push up on a tile, and it creaks as it lifts, and I suck in a breath as I slide it to the side. I waste no time pulling myself up and into the attack of the club and carefully pushing the tile back in place; not wanting to risk them seeing a missing tile if they should come into the room.

  When I’m encased in the darkness, I allow myself a moment to pull myself back together, and then I undergo a slow crawl along the crawlspace beam. I use the feel of the surface to guide me down the length of the narrow space, if I push against something that isn’t this beam, I’m screwed. I hear the Spanish voices louder now, and I know I’m growing closer towards them. My heart beating so fast, it’s painful. I continue to breathe in and out, doing my best not to panic. It’s the last thing we need to happen right now. I have two men counting on me.

  The tips of my fingers brush a wall. I move back and feel to my right, a beam. I feel to the left, another beam.

  Which way do I fucking go?

  I choose left because I know the parking lot is to the left of my direction and I stop when I come to a crawlspace ventilation vent.

  This tacky thing I know isn’t in a public room, so I lean my face down and peer through the cracks, shocked to see an office type of place. My luck can’t be this good, there’s no darn way. I try to lift the metal vent, and it won’t budge, so I check the corners; which I find screwed in. I wiggle them around to loosen at least two of them, cringing when it makes a small sound. Satisfied they are loose enough, I push down a few times, and one side pops open. I pull back, shut my eyes and strain my ears, checking to make sure I wasn’t heard.

  After a few minutes, I push the vent down and squeeze my body through its half-opened space. There isn’t any furniture underneath me, so I must drop down; a hiss escapes my lips when I scratch my arm all to hell. I won’t complain to Shadow about the light bill again, it’s saving our butts right now.

  I land on my ankle wrong but ignore it. I turn around, my eyes falling on a desk with a business landline nestled on top of it.

  Shit!

  I totally messed up my left ankle.

  Disregarding the excoriating pain, I pick up the receiver; no dial tone.

  Those guys must have cut the phone lines.

  All the drawers are locked, and there’s no computer.

  If we get out of this alive, things are going to have to change in here.

  A Panic Button is number one on my request list for Winter.

  Get your mind back on task, Jinx. Your fucking lives depend on it.

  He said desk, so I drop to my knees, using my hands to feel around the underbelly, my fingers brush two items taped to the wood. With my fingernails I peel the tape away, the sticky sheets pull back, the items drop to the floor.

  A gun and a hunting knife.

  I snatch them up, the gun’s safety is off, so I’m assuming it’s already locked and loaded. Sniper’s phrase.

  There are two doors in Shadow’s office.

  I scurry to the less fancy one.

  A closet.

  I shut the door behind me, search high and low for items which could help us get out of our predicament alive.

  I score a handful of cheap prepay cell phones, the first two don’t power on, but the third does.

  The only number besides 911 I know off the top of my head is Breaknecks garage number. I dial it, the other end rings multiple times, the garage answering machine picks up.

  Damnit!

  I press end, try again, answering machine picks up again.

  “This is Jinx, we’re at the new club. I’m hiding in a closet in the office,” I hiss. “Shadow and Seneca were captured. We need you!”

  I hang up, take a deep breath weighing my options.

  If I call 911, Braxxon will end me for dragging a headache into club business, but all be damned if I’m going to die because he doesn’t want a mess to clean up.

  No answer.

  Click.

  I tilt my head against the shelves in the closet, debating on what I should do when the phone vibrates in my hand.

  “Hello,” I whisper.

  “J, it’s Sniper, we’re on our way. Stay in the fucking closet, do you understand me?”

  “I’m not an idiot.”

  “I know you’re not,” he says calmly. “Do you have anythin’ to protect yourself with?”

  I gaze down at my ankle, cringing when I see the softball size swelling. “A gun and a knife. Found it under the desk,” I hiss.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I shattered my ankle.”

  “Fuck,” he yells.

  In the background of his call, I can hear Pyro asking what’s going on with me, Sniper fills him in on the ankle, and Sniper isn’t thrilled I’m hurt. “Let me talk to her,” Pyro orders Sniper, and he refuses.

  I hear the doorknob in the office jiggle. “They’re coming in, they must’ve got Shadow’s key,” I say quietly, barely audible to my own ears.

  Sniper sucks in a breath with worry on the other end of the line.

  I tuck the phone into my bra to hide it, just in case I’m about to get caught in the closet.

  When the office door opens, I put the gun on one of the shelves, and grip the knife in my hand. A gun shot would lead the others to me or they could hurt Shadow and Seneca. I shove my body in between the wall and shelving units. I hear one set of footsteps come closer to the closet door, when the man enters the room looking straight ahead, I use all the courage I have to move out from my hiding spot, he has no time to register my presence behind him before the knife in my hand enters his neck. Blood squirts all over my face wh
en he turns around, his own knife stabbing me in the stomach. I stumble backward, falling to the floor. The man reaches up, clawing at the blade in his neck, his Spanish words garbled by the blood spilling from his mouth.

  I scramble backward with his blade still in my stomach, I no longer feel the pain in my ankle. I’m numb all over. I can faintly hear voices coming through the phone tucked in my bra when I’m thrown into a black abyss.

  ∞∞∞

  Chapter Twelve (B)

  Pyro

  Lana won’t give me space, everywhere I go, she goes. I’m half tempted to switch my days off with a few of the brothers. She won’t give me time to get my thoughts under control, she pops back into my life as if she didn’t fucking break my heart a million times over again. I’ve struggled for over a year with my guilt and grief, and it was all unwarranted. I can’t get over Braxxon’s and Lana’s betrayal.

  My soul is on fire, and nothing they can say or do can put the flames out.

  What bothers me the most is even through all the heartbreak, I ache to touch her, to see if she’s honestly here.

  I shouldn’t want to touch her.

  I shouldn’t want anything to do with her at all.

  When I’m finally moving on with my life, having a little fun with Jinx, Lana appears out of nowhere.

  She isn’t an Angel, she’s the Devil in disguise.

  I don’t trust her, nor her reason for being back.

  Don’t get me wrong, I believe she missed her sister. Akela practically raised Lana, but just because Akela wouldn’t move to wherever the hell Lana was staying, doesn’t mean Akela was writing her off. I know Akela would have gone to visit Lana, Akela isn’t coldhearted.

  None of it makes any sense.

  Lana faked her death because she wanted nothing to do with Breakneck, but then she slips back into my World.

  Confusion.

  Heartache.

  Anger.

  It all consumes me.

  I throw the wrench to the ground, my lady will have to wait, I can’t do the fucking tune-ups my bike requires after it has sat for so long, cause all I can concentrate on is my hatred.

  I haven’t been cleared to ride, but I could give a shit, my leg will bother me for the rest of my life, I’ve come to terms with it.

  “Lana, I’m not in the mood,” I tell her when she walks up to me as I’m getting off the garage floor. “I don’t want you in here.”

  I know one of the reasons I don’t want her in here is because I’m fucking angry, the other reason confuses me even more.

  This is mine and Jinx’s spot.

  I gaze over at the punching bag and to the table where I first had my hands on the redheaded beauty.

  It does something to me, what it is? I’m not sure, but my senses tell me it’s all kinds of wrong.

  “I wish you’d talk to me,” she says as she sits down on the couch where I shared food with Jinx.

  I wish you’d get off Jinx’ couch.

  I run my fingers through my hair when the phone in the garage rings. I ignore it, the only people to call the phone in the garage are customers who require a tow, or customers wanting to know the progress on their vehicles. It rings again, but I don’t go to pick it up, I can’t deal with anything right now, don’t they fucking understand?

  “Why the fuck didn’t you answer the phone?” Sniper asks coming into the garage after the third call. “We have a business to run, brother. What the fuck?”

  The red light flashes on the answering machine, signaling we have a message. Sniper walks over to it and pushes play.

  “This is Jinx, we’re at the new club. I’m hiding in a closet in the office,” she hisses. “Shadow and Seneca were captured. We need you!”

  Sniper’s eyes snap to mine, he types the number off the caller ID into his prepay, and we move into action.

  She was only starting to heal, and now she’s in the middle of a shit storm.

  “Should I do anything?” Lana yells at our retreating forms.

  “Go find Braxxon,” Sniper yells back.

  We load into my SUV, it’s quieter than our bikes, if we ride up to the club and they hear our mufflers, there’s no telling what would happen.

  I reach under the passenger seat and snatch up my piece as Sniper pulls out of the compound and dials the number from the caller ID.

  “J, it’s Sniper, we’re on our way. Stay in the fucking closet, do you understand me?” he orders.

  I don’t hear what she says next.

  “I know you’re not,” he says eerily calm. “Do you have anythin’ to protect yourself with?”

  “What’s wrong?” he questions her.

  “Fuck,” he yells out.

  I motion for the phone. “Let me talk to her,” I demand, he denies me and blows past a stop sign.

  “What’s goin’ on, Sniper?”

  No reply for a second, the one hand he has gripped around the stirring wheel tightens. “Someone’s goin’ into the office where she’s hidin’,” he says with a curse under his breath.

  If something happens to her, she’s never going to forgive us for being hurt again.

  “Sniper, nothin’ can happen to her,” I croak. “She’s important to me.”

  He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but I don’t miss the gulp of his throat muscles with my confession. “She’s important to me too.”

  My prepay vibrates in my pocket, I drag it out and to read a text from Brax.

  “Brax and a few of the guys are right behind us.”

  “We might be too late.” Sniper growls.

  I punch the dashboard. “Don’t fuckin’ say that!”

  A few minutes later, we’re a block away from the club waiting on the brothers to get here. We have Jinx’s safety to worry about, we can’t go in half-cocked. If Shadow and Seneca are still alive, they’d want us to worry about getting to Jinx first.

  Braxxon, Fox, Krew, and Rap pull up beside us with the windows down in Winter’s Rover.

  “They’re gonna expect us to hit them from the back door. Pyro, you and Sniper, go through the front door, your focus is to get to Jinx. The code is the year our Charter was born. The rest of us are going in through the roof, we’ll take the fire escape. Krew is good pickin’ locks,” he orders, not waiting for our response before taking off.

  We park in the alleyway on the side of the Club, our eyes surveying our surroundings.

  “I think we should go through the back door,” Sniper says while loading his gun. “She’s in the office, it’s near the back door.”

  “He’s been a dick, I don’t care about his orders. I care about Jinx’s safety. I’m with you, brother.”

  We don’t shut the doors of the SUV, we can’t have any sounds alerting the assholes inside.

  “Get your knife out,” Sniper says to me when we go around the corner.

  I bend down and grab the knife from my boot, both hands now armed.

  “I’ll go first,” he says under his breath. “You focus on gettin’ to the office.”

  I nod because Sniper is our best gunner and I have a bum leg.

  The door is busted to hell when we get to it, Sniper pushes me back as a man comes out of the club. Sniper moves behind him, covers his mouth and drags him against the wall; he holds him as I dig my knife into his gut and twist the blade. The man struggles against Sniper’s hold as I pull the knife out and jam the blade into his heart. We don’t have time to fuck around, Jinx and two of my brothers are in trouble.

  “Go,” Sniper tells me while he deals with the body.

  We’re outside, we can’t risk someone seeing a dead body and calling the cops; not before we get to Jinx and our brothers.

  “Grab my knife, will ya?”

  He nods, and I take off inside; we don’t know how many men are in the building, so I stay against the wall, my movements deathly quiet as I move down the hall to Shadow’s office. I hear two Spanish voices, they almost sound confused. The guy I killed outside hasn’t been missing lon
g enough, so their confusion makes no sense. The office door is open, so is the closet door, I take off as quickly as my feet can carry me.

  Oh, god.

  Jinx is on the floor in a pool of blood next to a dead cartel member, a knife jammed in his neck.

  I drop to my knees and drop the gun in my grip, my hands shake when I move them to her body to check for a pulse, and I’m relieved to feel one. It’s small, but it’s there. I don’t remove the knife in her gut, afraid she’ll bleed out quicker if I do.

  Along with the knife in her stomach, one of her arms is torn all to hell; I trail my eyes down the rest of her body, checking for any other injuries. Her left ankle is blue and black. There’s no way she only sprained it.

  “Don’t… don’t pull it out.” Jinx hiccups and my eyes zing back to her face.

  “I won’t, darlin,” I promise her.

  “I think,” she gasps. “I’ll be okay.”

  My hands shake, they itch to touch her, but I’m afraid I’ll do further damage to the wound in her stomach.

  I crave for her to open her baby blues, but she won’t, or she can’t.

  A couple pops go off, and Jinx moans when the sound causes her to flinch.

  “I’m not sorry,” she whispers.

  “You’re not sorry for what, Shortcake?” I ask, wanting her to keep talking, it means she’s still alive.

  “Killing him,” she groans.

  I swallow and take her right hand in mine. “You shouldn’t be. You did whatcha needed to do to stay alive, darlin.”

  I hope.

  I don’t know shit about gut wounds.

  “Shaking’,” she mumbles.

  “Jinx?”

  “Your hand,” she takes a deep breath, “it’s shaking.”

  I peer down at my hand on hers, sure enough, my hand is trembling.

  I hear footsteps outside, I reach for my gun with my free hand and point it at the open doorway when Braxxon yells all clear.

  I bring my gun back down when Sniper and Fox rush into the closet.

  “You gotta move back,” Fox instructs, “I was an EMT in another life.”

  Fox drops down to his knees, takes her hand from mine, and taps my arm for me to move. “I got her, brother.”

  “She needs a hospital.”

  “Sniper’s already on it.” Fox nods to the doorway where Sniper is on his phone with 911.