by Zoey Parker
They arranged the bottles and took a look at their handiwork.
“What now?” Felix asked, looking at his older sister expectantly.
“Now, you get into my car and wait,” Georgia told him.
“I wait…until you join me, right?” Felix said.
Georgia looked at her brother with a sad smile. “Felix, the plan hasn’t changed. You have to go, and I have to stay so I can get the money—either from Dad, or that guy Spike. Don’t worry—they won’t hurt me if they want their money.”
Felix very strongly doubted that. But he trusted his sister, and though he would never admit it, not even to himself, he was secretly grateful for the extra head start she was giving him, though she was probably going to suffer for it.
Still, he was terrified for her. “Is it too late for me to tell you this is way too dangerous?” he asked, knowing it was futile.
“About nineteen years too late,” she replied, kissing his cheek. “Now get going, before they decide to burst in and finish us off. Wait a few seconds after I throw the first one, alright?”
Felix got into a crouch. “One last thing. If you can figure out how to convince him, Spike hangs out at a bar downtown called Joe’s. It’s a biker bar, so be careful.”
“Joe’s downtown. Check,” Georgia repeated, smiling. “Now, I thought I told you to get going.”
He took one last look at his sister, then half-walked, half-crawled to the garage door where Georgia’s car was, stretching up to grab the car keys from the key hook.
“Felix!” Georgia suddenly hissed.
He looked back at her, nearly falling over she startled him so badly. “What?” he whispered angrily.
“Don’t open the garage door,” she told him. “You can’t give them any warning where you’re coming from. The security deposit is pretty much fucked at this point anyway.”
He grinned and gave a thumbs-up. Sneaking into the garage, he quietly shut the door behind him. Georgia waited for a moment, then lit one of the rags hanging from the bottle. She rotated the flame until it had grown strong enough to remain lit even while soaring through the air.
Slowly pushing one of the couch cushions aside, she tried to get a proper look at the group of men standing outside her home. Two were talking near the walkway to her house, and three or four others hung back, waiting by their cars. Going by Felix’s descriptions, Georgia correctly assumed the white-haired giant standing at the end of her drive with the obnoxiously large diamond earring studs was Ivan. That probably meant the tall, raven-haired man next to him was Yury.
Silently thanking her high school guidance counselor for encouraging her to join the tennis team, Georgia carefully took the flaming projectile and hurled it through the window. Since the large front window had been completely shot to shit, she had the perfect opening available to her.
The bottle lazily flipped end over end, casting a sharp, orange arc against the night sky. It exploded on the ground, blazing shrapnel flying in every direction. One man screamed, and Georgia peeked through the pillows to see one of his pant legs had caught fire.
So far, none of them had reacted. They were confused by what had just happened, staring at the man on fire. Georgia took this opportunity to light another Molotov cocktail and send it flying, aiming for the cars. She wanted to remove their ability to chase Felix once he escaped.
Georgia heard that strong voice ring out once more. Ivan was shouting for his men to hide behind the cars. They scrambled to obey, all except for the man who had caught fire. He was lying in the grass, motionless. If Felix was going to run, now was his best opportunity.
As though on cue, she heard her car start in the garage, and barely a second later, tires screeching. There was a loud crunching noise, and Georgia watched, amazed, as Felix shot out into the street, the garage door covering the windshield of the car. He struck the front corner of one of the cars and it spun, knocking Yury to the ground, hard.
The large metal sheet obstructing Felix’s view slid off, and he cranked the wheel to peel out, speeding down the neighborhood road. Georgia hoped he knew where he was headed.
Ivan raised his gun, having finally collected himself. Before he could fire, Georgia sent her fourth missile out. A piece of glass flew by, slicing Ivan’s arm, and he shot his gun high into the air. Snarling, he whirled around to face the house and pulled the trigger rapidly.
Georgia ducked back behind the couch, covering her head with her hands and praying her cover would hold. Lighting another bottle, Georgia waited until there was a pause in the shooting, then quickly popped up to hurl the projectile out the window, immediately ducking back down afterwards.
This time, no bullets came back at her. Instead, she heard another set of tires squealing. One of the men had jumped into the undamaged car and was racing after Felix. Georgia peered through a space in the cushions. She couldn’t see any of Ivan’s other men, which she thought was probably a bad sign.
Georgia decided it was probably time for her to make her own exit. She began to make her way to the door, bringing a bottle and the lighter with her for insurance. As she crawled towards the back door of her townhome, Georgia saw that it had been jimmied and was slightly open.
An enormous shadow fell across her, and she heard a deep voice from behind say, “Move, and I kill you.”
***
Georgia froze, one hand poised in the air. If she wasn’t very, very careful, Felix would end up an only child.
“Hello, Georgia,” the voice said.
It took every ounce of Georgia’s self-control not to turn her head in shock.
“Yes, I know who you are, Georgia Isidora Lewis,” he continued in that cold, hard tone. “Do you know who I am?”
Georgia didn’t move, terrified to disobey his earlier instructions.
“Nod if you know who I am,” he told her.
She nodded.
“Do you want to live?” he asked her.
Georgia nodded again. Her throat was dry with fear, and she knew if she tried to speak, her voice would crack.
“Then put your hands up slowly and turn to face me,” he ordered.
Georgia did as he said, wobbling from one knee to the other as she turned around.
If he had seemed like a giant outside, up close, on her knees, he was colossal. His massive, hulking shoulders loomed over her, and Georgia instinctively cowered a little, frightened by his emotionless expression. His gun, which was only a few inches away from Georgia’s face, took up the rest of her view. Suddenly, Georgia felt disastrously foolish in thinking she would be able to talk her way out of this without suffering dire consequences.
“Wh-what do you want?” she finally managed to stammer out.
“You know what I fucking want,” he said brusquely. “Where’s your brother going?”
“I don’t know,” Georgia said, far too quickly.
“What do you think, Yury? Do you believe her?” Ivan said, speaking to the man who had appeared in the doorway behind Georgia.
Yury stepped forward to stand next to Ivan. Georgia noticed he had a bad patch of road rash on his cheekbone, marring his porcelain skin. She mentally cringed, knowing she was probably going to pay for that, despite the fact that it was technically Felix who had knocked him down. Georgia doubted the man would see the difference.
Yury turned his black eyes to Georgia. He seemed to delight in seeing her on her knees. “I think she’s a lying little bitch. Tell us where he is,” he commanded her.
Georgia said nothing.
Yury let out an impatient sigh, softly tapping his shoes on the tile floor. Ivan reached one arm forward and, holding the gun in the other, grabbed Georgia by the wrist, physically dragging her to the living room as she vainly struggled against him. He dropped her, and Georgia pulled up her shirt to see several angry-looking scratches. Yury may have had road rash, but Georgia’s midsection was covered in carpet burns, which, to be fair, could also sting pretty badly.
Georgia started to sit up, but I
van kicked her arm out from under her, and she landed hard on her elbow, bruising the bone. “Tell me where Felix is going,” he repeated.
“I told you, I don’t know,” Georgia said through gritted teeth, cradling her arm.
The boot came out of nowhere, hitting Georgia squarely in the stomach. All of the air rushed out of her lungs, and she lay on her back on the floor, her breath hitching in small gasps. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheek to pool in her ears.
Ivan squatted down on his heels next to her. “Do you want to tell me now?” he asked, his cold voice settling on her chest, squeezing out what little breath she had. Even if she could speak, she would have said nothing.
Ivan waited a minute for her to catch her breath, but he quickly realized she wasn’t going to talk no matter how much time he gave her. He stood up, circled around and kicked Georgia twice in the back.
She cried out, pain racing down every nerve in her body. He pulled out his gun and shoved it in her face, but Georgia refused to flinch. She forced herself to raise her blue eyes to match his and stare him down.
“This is foolish,” Yury suddenly said, his oily voice sliding over Georgia. Ivan stepped back to allow Yury to glide over to her, his long limbs making it appear as though he was almost floating. “Why are you protecting your brother?” Yury asked her. “He abandoned you here, all alone. He took your car and destroyed your home,” he said, gesturing imperiously to the garage door that lay in the street. “You’ve been cleaning up after him your whole life; don’t let him drag you down with him,” Yury said pleadingly. Georgia saw his black eyes gleam with something she very seriously doubted was concern for her well-being.
Sizing him up, Georgia pursed her lips, took aim, and spit square in his face. Yury immediately transformed from a “caring, nurturing friend” to a rabid animal. He snarled and savagely backhanded her across the face, splitting her lip.
Georgia spit again, this time spraying blood as well as spit.
“Look out there,” Ivan said, grabbing her by her bicep and pointing out the window. Georgia saw the man who had been lying in the grass earlier—the man she had inadvertently set aflame—still lay there. He hadn’t moved. “You killed one of my men today. You don’t know where your brother is, or you’re not going to tell me. Either way, you have proven yourself to be completely useless. Give me a reason not to kill you now.”
Georgia expected to feel sick when Ivan told her she had killed a man. She had envisioned herself throwing up in shock over the news, irreparably traumatized by what she had done. But what she felt now could be likened to perhaps a small glimmer of pride in having been able to protect her family.
“Did you hear what I said?” Ivan asked, prodding her sharply in the side of the head with the muzzle of his gun.
Georgia snapped out of her reverie. She took a deep, calming breath. She had practiced for this question. Doing her best to ignore the gun, which was still warm from all the recent firings, she answered. “Because right now you’re out at least thirteen thousand dollars, and I can get that for you.”
Ivan watched her, his face unreadable. Yury was looking at her with a greasy smile that made Georgia want to shower.
“If you had thirteen grand, you would’ve given it to your brother and he would’ve handed it over to me,” Ivan said finally.
“No, no, I have it,” Georgia insisted fervently, “I just need a couple of days to get it.”
Ivan gave her a long look. His eyes flicked to Yury and he arched an eyebrow at him, flicking his gun in Georgia’s direction.
Yury stepped forward. “Either women truly are the weaker sex when it comes to the sciences, or your brother failed to properly explain things to you. His debt has a daily interest charge of ten percent; a generous offer,” he explained condescendingly. “If, and that is a very hypothetical if, we were to allow you this extra time to get your money, your brother’s debt would be seventeen thousand dollars, not thirteen thousand.”
“I can get it,” Georgia said without hesitation, trying her hardest to overlook Yury’s patronizing air and misogynistic undertones.
“Why should we give you this extension? What makes you special?” Ivan said skeptically.
“Well, it’s not really an extension if you told him he had a week to get the money together in the first place,” Georgia shot back, her temper getting the better of her. She was rewarded with a swift kick to the upper thigh. Georgia felt her leg go dead and she toppled onto her side, literally biting her tongue to keep herself from screaming out.
“She’s a spicy little pepper, isn’t she?” Yury said, grinning wildly. He seemed excited by Georgia’s outburst. His constant mood shifts confused and terrified Georgia, but she supposed perhaps that was the aim.
“You had better watch that attitude. At this point I’m nearly ready to shoot you dead and leave you here for your brother to come back to.” Ivan raised his gun to Georgia’s face once more.
“I’m sorry,” Georgia immediately replied, panting as she tried to push her thick hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?”
Ivan gave her a long, hard look. “Not sorry enough,” he decided.
As his fist flew towards her, his huge, platinum, diamond-encrusted watch filling her vision, Georgia wondered if she truly was going to die tonight. Ivan hit her in the side, and she thought she heard something crack. This time, there was no stifling her cries; she screamed in pain, and her vision instantly began to tunnel and darken. She was going to pass out.
Ivan squatted down next to her again, Yury standing just behind him. “Bring Felix back in four days’ time with the seventeen thousand he owes. You do that, and maybe I don’t bring you back to the club as a new toy for the boys,” Ivan said before standing up to leave. He stopped abruptly and turned back to her. “The money that you supposedly say you can get? I hope it’s not far. Because you’re not allowed to leave town, understand?”
Yury bent down and gently brushed a lock of Georgia’s hair out of her face. She was fading fast. He leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “You’ve got a lot of fight in you, Georgia. It almost makes me hope Felix doesn’t return.” He smiled, and his black eyes were the last thing Georgia saw before she finally fell unconscious.
***
Georgia woke up with a gasp, letting out a soft cry. Her side was screaming in agony. She looked around the house. It was a little hard to tell, since the place had already suffered major damage, but it looked as though someone had trashed the place while she was passed out. The coffee table was smashed, and they had thrown all of the food from the kitchen onto the floor.
She slowly tried to sit up. It took her the better part of a minute to get to her feet. She cringed as the night’s events came back to her. How was she going to get the money from their father if she wasn’t allowed to leave town? There was no way Cameron would ever make the trip out—Georgia might have been able to lie or guilt him into giving them the money if she were right in front of him, but getting him to care enough to make an eight-hour ride to Chicago? Never gonna happen.
Even worse, now that Felix had taken off in her car, Georgia had to figure out how to make an extra four grand to replace the money she had been expecting to get from the car.
She only had one option left, it seemed. The leader of Satan’s Disciples—Spike. How the hell am I supposed to get a gang leader to help me? One who is a complete stranger, to boot, Georgia wondered. They had no money, nothing of any value. Borrowing the money from Spike would most likely mean they would just end up in this same situation in six months’ time, except instead of being tortured and killed by a Russian mobster, she could be tortured and killed by a fat, unwashed biker.
She needed to figure out something else, but nothing was coming to her. Her brain was completely tapped of ideas. It ran sluggishly, endlessly repeating one question: how was she going to convince Spike to take care of Ivan for her? Georgia kicked her leg out in frustration, striking a cupboard door. Pain shot up her leg
where Ivan had kicked her, and bled into her side. She bit her lip against the hurt.
Suddenly, Georgia’s eyes flew open. Stacy. If Georgia knew anyone who knew anything about bikers, it would be Stacy. Georgia scrambled over to her phone as fast as she could. Thankfully, it had withstood most of the damage Ivan and his men had done to the place, and there was only a small crack in the screen. Georgia quickly dialed Stacy’s number.
“Hello?” Stacy said groggily, finally answering after what seemed like an eternity.
“Stacy!” Georgia cried. “Thank god you answered. I need your help.”
Georgia heard Stacy fumbling around in the background. “It’s two in the fucking morning, Georgia. What could you possibly need my help with?” In a quieter voice, away from the phone, Stacy told someone to go back to sleep.
