by Hart, Lane
“It’s just one night. He promised to let her go.”
“One night?” I repeat. “One. Night?” I have to pull the phone away from my ear to try and take a few deep breaths to try calm myself down before I break the device or hyperventilate. “He’s going to fuck her up!” I inform the idiot on the phone.
“He liked her a lot. He won’t hurt her!”
“You have no way of knowing that! And now Jetta’s there, in his place, surrounded by all of his guards for the whole goddamn night, if not longer!”
“I didn’t know what else to do!” Sean whines.
“You man the fuck up and do whatever you have to without dragging Jetta into your bullshit again!” I yell at him. “Fuck it. Fuck you. I’m going to get her, and then I’ll deal with your sorry ass. You better pray Harry doesn’t lay a finger on her or I will gut you!” I warn him before I end our call and then quickly try to reach Malcolm.
“What’s up? Boat’s about to leave the dock,” our prez answers.
“This is more important. Life or death. Cancel the cruise tonight! I need you to round everyone up and bring them to Harry’s.”
“Harry Cox?” he asks. “What the fuck are you doing there alone, Dev? Are you insane?”
“I’m not there yet. But he’s got a girl, Sean’s sister, and I’m going in to get her out even if I have to kill every motherfucker who stands in my way!”
There’s a long pause before Malcolm says, “How do you know your girl doesn’t want to be there with Harry? Maybe she wants a sugar daddy.”
“No, goddammit! Jetta told me she didn’t know who he was, and I believe her because I’m in love with her, man. She cares about me too; I know that for a fact. Sean made some kind of deal with Harry – he gets Jetta for a night to clear his gambling debt. He said he threatened to kill him.”
“Goddamn that little bitch! What was Sean thinking?” Malcolm asks. “Who would do that to his own sister?”
“Man, I don’t know. I don’t have time to think about the morality of addicts right now. Are you coming or not?”
“Stay where you are, Dev. If you try and go in alone, you won’t make it out.”
“That’s a chance I’m willing to take,” I assure him.
“I’ll be there with the crew in ten.”
“Thanks,” I tell him, relieved he’s on board, because I know what I’m asking for is a helluva lot. “Tell everyone who can come to bring as many guns as they can carry.”
“Will do,” Malcolm replies with a sigh before he ends the call.
While I wait for the rest of the Aces to show up, I pull out an old pack of cigarettes from the storage space under my bike’s seat and light them up, one right after another. I’m shaking so badly I need something to do with my hands to calm my nerves and keep me from going to that goddamn house without backup. It would be suicide, I know. I would be outnumbered. If I die, that won’t do Jetta any good. Harry could take her and leave before the rest of the Aces show up. So, I convince my adrenaline and nerves to wait, even though I fucking hate it.
Finally, after what feels like forever but is probably only a few minutes, I hear the hum of motorcycles in the distance just as I see their headlights coming down the road.
I hop up on my bike ready to go, but Malcolm pulls his bike in front of mine and kills it as the rest of the guys pull over onto the shoulder. “First, we need a plan before we go in there with guns blazing,” he says.
“The plan is I’ve been sitting here waiting for too long as it is!” I shout at him. “Sean James traded his sister to Harry to pay off his debt, and she has no idea who he set her up with!”
“You all know I wanted to take Harry out of our speed trade so we can do business straight from the seller, but I was hoping for something a little less…bloody that doesn’t lead straight back to us, you know, like a car accident.”
“Tough shit,” I tell him.
“Yeah, tough shit,” Malcolm agrees. “There’s no love lost, though. We’ll take Harry and his entire crew out tonight. Cuts off. Gloves stay on. Helmets too in case there are cameras. We’re only about half a mile or so away, so we’ll leave the bikes down behind these hedges and sneak up to the house, surround it, and then penetrate it once the guards are all down.”
Fuck, I didn’t even think about the possibility of surveillance cameras seeing our bikes, license plates or faces. This is why Malcolm is in charge and making plans, rather than going in like Rambo the way I had planned. It’s going to take us longer to get there, but it’s the best idea to keep us all alive and out of prison, I know that.
Is it too much to hope that Cox won’t touch Jetta before we make the hike and get to her?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jetta
* * *
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!
The thoughts in my head seem too loud and my lungs feel like they’re going to explode. I’m trying to hold my breath so I don’t make a sound from my hiding spot in the dirty clothes bin of the mansion’s second floor laundry room. The smell is awful, but I easily fit inside the container and the clothes provide some measure of cover.
All I can hope is that the fat ass eventually gets too tired of searching for me and gives up.
But then that’s probably what his guards are for, to do whatever he wants them to do, including search every inch of the house looking for me.
God, I’m going to kill Sean if I make it out of this place alive! How could he set me up with this asshole? There’s no way Sean didn’t know he was a fucking psycho.
And Devlin? If I tell him what happened on this stupid date he didn’t want me to go on, he will probably flip out and threaten to slice Mr. Cox’s throat.
Not that I would be opposed to that now that I know what he has in mind when he finds me. The freak spent the rest of dinner telling me his plans for how he’s going to hurt me once he finds me. I have no doubt that his thug employees wouldn’t be opposed to holding me down for him to do whatever he wants to me either.
While I know I’m hidden well for the moment, I can’t help but wonder if I should try and sneak out, to keep moving, hiding in various places to make it harder on him to find me. But the chances he’ll see me leaving are too great, so I decide to stay put.
“Oh, Jetta,” I hear Mr. Cox’s arrogant voice say into the muffled silence.
Shit! How did he find me so soon?
“Did you think I didn’t have cameras all around the house watching you every second? I knew where you were from the moment you came in here. I just wanted to let you think you were safe.”
Fuck! I should’ve tried to run toward an exit instead, but I thought it was pointless because of the guards. Maybe one of them would’ve had a conscience and helped me. Probably not, but it would’ve been better than this – being a sitting duck.
“Come on out now, Jetta. I can’t wait to make you scream.”
No. Fuck no. He’ll have to take me fighting and clawing, because I am not going to let him touch me without putting up a fight.
“Boss, we need to get you into the panic room,” a deep voice says, and I don’t know if he’s been standing there with the psycho all along or if he just walked up.
“The panic room?” I hear Mr. Cox ask softly, his voice sounding mildly concerned.
“There’s been a breach in the perimeter. We should hurry.”
“Who is it?”
“We’re not certain at this time, and it’s not important. You’re in danger.”
Danger? Please god don’t let this be part of his creepy game.
“Fine. Grab the girl and bring her with us. She’s under the clothes.”
“But, sir…”
“We’ll need entertainment in the panic room! No telling how long this will take…”
Crap! This has to be part of his disgusting game, making his guard carry me back because I won’t be able to get away from one of these oafs that are twice my size.
Piles of clothes above my head start
disappearing, allowing light inside before two strong hands grab onto my shoulders and pull me out of the bin.
“No!” I scream. “Please don’t do this!” I beg the unknown person holding me as he carries me out of the room. I kick his knees and slam my elbows into his stomach, but the fucker doesn’t even flinch! “Let me go!” I yell before he slaps his palm over my mouth.
“Shut up and maybe you’ll live,” the deep voice threatens in my ear.
Devlin
* * *
My hands are shaking as I keep my gun up and at the ready. The realization that in a few minutes I could end another person’s life is weighing heavier than a ton of bricks on me. I don’t want to be a murderer, living with that shit on my conscience for the rest of my life. Before tonight, I didn’t even think I was capable of pulling the trigger to blow someone away.
But for Jetta? Fuck it. I could take on an army right now, leaving behind a massacre if it meant finding her and getting her the hell out of this place.
And her brother? Well, he better hope I find his sister unharmed or I’ll be coming for him next.
Malcolm sent Nash and I around to the front of the huge, gaudy mansion. I’m glad I’ve got my close-faced helmet on, because the visor is preventing me from being blinded by the spotlights that someone turned on throughout the yard when the first shots were fired out back. Those gunshots are my cue; and as I duck around the corner of the house, I can see the two guards at the front door holding their hands up to shield their own eyes. I spring over the low bannister and then grip my pistol in both hands just as the nearest guard spots me and raises his own weapon.
For the rest of my days on earth, I’ll struggle to articulate what those next few seconds felt like. Something happens inside of a person when they’re staring death directly in the eye. I don’t know if it’s chemical, spiritual, or some strange alchemy of the two, but in those few fleeting moments you either ascend, becoming stronger, faster, better, than you’ve ever been in your life…or you die.
I’m not an avid gun collector, so I couldn’t tell you exactly what the small sub-machine gun the guard pointed at me is called. I was damned lucky that he was apparently also unfamiliar with the weapon, as he raised it towards me with only one hand. Every nerve in my body seemed to be electrified at once, and time slowed to an almost imperceptible crawl as I pulled the trigger before he could completely turn to face me. I didn’t notice how badly my hand was shaking from the adrenaline coursing through me until my first shot, which I had intended to hit the guard center mass, flew high and struck him in his right shoulder.
My jittery hand contributed to saving my life, as the force of the slug jerked the guard to the side as he returned fire. The fully automatic weapon, held in only one of his hands, spewed forth a thunderous line of lead and fire…that raked the front of the house and missed me entirely as my second and third shots sent the man spinning to the ground. The ringing in my ears combined with the hammering of my pulse inside my head was so deafening I could barely hear Nash as he stepped over the body of the other guard across the porch.
“If he had braced that gun the right way, he might have had you,” Nash comments as he kicks the weapon off the porch. “Can’t hold an automatic with one hand; they’ll run away on you,” he adds calmly.
I clap him on the shoulder and shake my head to clear the shock that’s trying to settle over me. I don’t have time for regrets right now, especially not for hired thugs who earn a living by protecting a sex-trafficking piece of shit like Harry Cox.
When the front door swings open, both Nash and I are immediately back on guard, our weapons raised and ready. “Come on,” I hear Silas hiss from the doorway. “Get inside and help me sweep the area.”
“Malcolm and the others are already in the back,” Silas adds as we rush past him and he pulls the front door shut. “I came in through the dining room window there,” he nods towards a side hallway. “Kitchen is over there. Let’s clear out anyone in there first.”
“Did you hear that?” Silas whispers as we move quietly from the empty dining room to the kitchen.
“Hear what?” I ask because my ears are still ringing from the shots I fired and landed.
When Nash and I both glance over, he lifts his helmet’s face shield, then points at a door and mouths, “I think someone’s in the pantry.”
Could it be Jetta?
Maybe when the shooting started outside, she heard it and decided to hunker down in the closet. “Check it, carefully,” I tell Silas. “Cover the entrance,” I say to Nash. Both men nod. Nash turns his back to us to keep an eye on the cracked door to the kitchen. Silas lowers his face shield and moves quietly over closer to the pantry. Slowly, he turns the doorknob with his left hand while aiming his gun straight ahead in his right. A second later he jerks the door open wide and a woman shrieks loudly.
“Jetta?” My heart is beating a thousand thumps a minute when I rush over to get a glimpse around Silas’s shoulder. At first, I don’t see anything but shelves full of food. Then I look down. Cowering on the floor in the corner is a woman with bright, red hair that forms a mane around her young face. For an instant, I think it’s really her, but her crying eyes aren’t brown.
“Is this her? Is this Jetta?” Silas asks.
“No. Fuck,” I whisper through gritted teeth. “And this one probably brought everyone left in the house our way!”
“Should I kill her?” Silas asks coolly.
“No, you shouldn’t kill her!” I tell him, placing my hand on the top of his gun to lower the muzzle to the floor. “Who are you? Do you work for Harry?” I ask the terrified woman who just nearly had her head blown off by my twisted-ass brother. “Well? Answer me!” I demand when she doesn’t say a word and I have to keep checking over my shoulder toward Nash to see if there are more guards coming.
“I’m-I’m just a-a chef,” the woman finally stammers. “He-he forced me to c-come here and cook for him! I swear! Please don’t hurt me!”
“Shh, calm down,” I tell her. “We’re not going to hurt you,” I promise her while also warning Silas, who is a little too trigger happy. “I’m looking for a girl with red hair who was with Harry. Did you see her?”
The woman shakes her head no. “He was with a woman earlier at dinner, but her hair wasn’t red.”
“What color was it?” I ask, holding my breath.
“I can’t remember.”
“Try!” I demand.
“I only saw her for a second! I think…I think her hair was a lot of colors, okay? Maybe blue, green and purple all mixed together, but I’m not sure!”
“That’s Jetta. It has to be,” I say since she’s always changing her hair. I just didn’t know she would do it after I left tonight. Was she trying to impress her “date”? No. That’s impossible. There’s no way she would even think about being with anyone but me, especially not some sick fatso like Harry, right?
I tell myself that I know Jetta and she didn’t want any part of this “date” tonight but only agreed to it because her idiot brother pressured her into it. She loves me too, whether she wants to admit it or not. The crazy woman thinks that I’m the one who isn’t ready to settle down when I’m blowing holes in people to try and find her. If that doesn’t say committed, then I don’t know what the hell does.
“Jetta’s still here,” I tell Silas. “She has to be. We need to keep searching.”
“Fine. What do you want to do with her?” he asks, pointing his gun at the woman on the floor.
“Leave her. She’s safer in the pantry,” I tell him. Then to her I say, “Stay here and don’t come out until we tell you to. Got it?”
“Y-yes,” she answers with a nod, her teeth chattering from shock as she wraps her arms around her knees that are pulled up to her chest. God, she reminds me so much of Jetta. Why couldn’t it be her here safe and sound in the fucking pantry?
“Let’s go,” I say to Silas. I start to shut the pantry door when Nash yells, “Incoming!”
“It’s us! Hold your fucking fire,” Malcolm calls back before him, Fiasco and Wirth slip past Nash to join us in the kitchen, still wearing their helmets.
“Everyone whole?” I ask in concern since I don’t know what the hell I would do if one of my brothers gets hurt and it’s my fault for dragging them into this mess.
“We’re good,” Malcolm says. “Took out three guards around the side yard and back. You all have any trouble?”
“Three guards at the front too, but we got the jump on them before they knew we were there.”
“Good,” Fiasco says before he peeks in the closet. “Who is she?”
“Chef apparently,” I tell him, right before a gun blast goes off. The woman screams bloody murder while the rest of us hit the floor on our stomachs instinctively. Well, all of us except for Nash.
“What the fuck, Nash?” Fiasco grumbles.
“It was another guard,” Nash responds. “We need to get out of here and spread out before more come and trap us inside.”
“He’s right. Let’s move,” Malcolm agrees.
“We’ll come back for you soon,” I tell the frazzled chef before I shut the pantry door on her.
As a group, we make our way around the lower level of the house that’s empty. We’re about to head up to the second floor when there’s a loud creaking like footsteps from the ceiling above us. The reason for the noise soon becomes clear when Harry and a guard carrying Jetta appear at the top of the spiral staircase. Spotting us, both of the men freeze and thankfully neither have a gun in their hands.
“You’re done, motherfuckers,” I tell them. “Let her go.”
The guard immediately puts Jetta down. He removes the gun from his holster, tosses it down the steps, and then raises his hands above his head because he realizes there’s only one way this ends.
