by Zoey Parker
“Tiny,” Spike said, starting his bike. “Whatever I said, I said when I was drunk. Listen to what I say when I’m sober.” Spike revved his engine and pulled away, cutting off Tiny’s reply.
“Let’s go!” Spike shouted over the noise of the engines.
He drove down the road, leading the way for the small group to Georgia’s house. He looked in his rearview mirror to see Tiny’s enormous back growing smaller and smaller.
It doesn’t matter what I said, or how I feel. That doesn’t change the fact that Georgia and I belong to separate worlds. Spike knew that Georgia could never join Satan’s Disciples, and he could never leave the gang without a leader. Whatever chemistry or feelings there were between them had to be set aside.
Spike parked his bike on the street behind Georgia’s house, but this time he kept it on the road instead of in Georgia’s neighbor’s garden. Roxy, Jinx, and Vince all pulled in behind him a second later. Spike held his finger up to his lips and then waved for them to move forward.
The four of them quickly scanned the surrounding area as they moved towards the house. Not seeing anyone, they came back to the rear entrance of the house, not wanting to be spotted by nosy neighbors. Spike walked up to knock on the door.
That’s when he saw the blood. There were several smears of it near the already opened door.
“No,” Spike whispered. “No!” He threw the door open and bolted inside.
“Spike, don’t!” Vince yelled, running in after him. “They could still be inside!”
Spike didn’t care. He needed to know if she was okay or not. “Georgia!” He cried her name repeatedly, ripping open door after door.
Vince followed Spike as he ran from room to room. The place was small, but completely destroyed. There were blood spatters everywhere. Things didn’t look good for Georgia.
“It’s all clear!” Vince called over his shoulder to the girls outside.
“Yeah, we know,” Jinx said, her head popping out of the bedroom. “We came in, like, right after you.”
The three members of Satan’s Disciples walked down the hallway and into Georgia’s living room, where Spike was kneeling in front of a large pool of blood.
“Oh fuck,” Jinx whimpered. “That does not look good.” Vince put a comforting arm around her narrow shoulders and she turned her face into his chest.
“Roxy,” Spike said, his voice ragged. “Can you tell me anything?”
Roxy had been a paramedic at one point, so she was the gang’s resident expert on all things gory and gruesome.
She took a deep breath, unsure how to say this to her leader. “It’s a lethal amount of blood. Whoever’s blood that is…there’s no way they could still be standing. But hey, for all we know,” she quickly added, seeing Spike’s face, “it might not even be her blood. What if it’s Ivan’s?” she optimistically suggested.
“Oh come on, Roxy,” Spike said dully. “It’s not Ivan’s. He has her. I can feel it.” Spike’s phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket to look at the screen. “It’s Tiny.” He hurriedly pressed the green button and put the phone on speaker. “What do you got for me?”
Tiny’s voice rang out thinly in the demolished room. “It’s her, Spike! She’s here!”
“Are you sure?” Spike demanded. “Is she okay? Does she look hurt?”
“She’s, uh, she’s banged up pretty bad, but she’s walking,” Tiny said.
“Barely,” Spike heard Cleo mutter in the background.
He clenched his fist so tight he heard his knuckles creak. Of course he didn’t kill Georgia, he realized, disgust twisting his stomach into knots. Where’s the fun in that? He took her because he knew it would hurt me. He knows whatever he does to Georgia…I’ll blame myself for it. And why not? It is my fault.
“Tiny, there’s blood here at Georgia’s house—a lot of it. Is there anyone else there who’s badly hurt?” Spike asked. Georgia was a strong girl, and smart, too. It was possible she had taken out another one of Ivan’s men.
“Hold on, there’s another car pulling up,” Tiny said. There was a long pause as Tiny watched the car pull into the alley from the rooftop of the same abandoned warehouse Spike had scaled a few days ago.
“One of the guys is definitely bleeding, but he’s not—” Tiny broke off abruptly.
“Tiny? Are you there? Tiny?” Spike said urgently, terrified that they had been made.
“Yeah, I’m here,” Tiny replied. “The guys in the second car just pulled a giant suitcase from the trunk.”
“A suitcase big enough to hold a body?” Spike asked.
“Oh yeah, and what’s worse, its dripping blood.”
Who could be in the suitcase? It’s not Georgia, it’s not Ivan’s men… The color drained from Spike’s face. “Thanks, Tiny,” he said into the phone. “Get back to headquarters, okay? I’ll see you there.”
Spike shoved the phone into his pocket. The entire reason Georgia had come to Spike was for her brother, and he had promised her he would keep the kid safe. Now it looked like he might be getting buried in expensive luggage. Spike knew how close the two were; if Felix died, it would be like Georgia herself was the one who was killed.
“Come on,” he said gruffly. “We should head back.”
***
Georgia had patiently been waiting for Ivan’s arrival for over an hour when she finally heard footsteps creeping up the driveway. She quickly and silently moved into position, hiding just behind the front door so that when Ivan stepped in, there was no chance she could miss.
Hopefully, I’ll be able to take out some of his bastard friends, too, she thought, remembering Yury’s eyes and the way they had caressed her body.
They knocked, three loud booms on the door that made Georgia tense up so badly her muscles hurt. There was a long silence, then five shots blew past Georgia, shattering a vase, the last unbroken thing in her home, and filling her ears with a deafening ring. Light spilled onto the carpet from the holes in the door.
“Did I get you?” Ivan called through the door. Georgia bit her lip to keep herself from whimpering in fear. “I hope I didn’t, because I want this to last a long time, Georgia,” he said, a mere foot away from her head through the door.
“Is there anyone in there with you? Georgia?” he pushed when she didn’t respond. “Come out and it’ll go easy—you can even see your brother. He’s still alive! For the time being,” Ivan warned.
Georgia still said nothing. They were toying with her, trying to shake her, trick her into doing something stupid. She kept her lips tightly pressed together as she held the gun up, ready to pull the trigger the second she saw Ivan’s idiotic, bleach-blond head.
“Okay,” she heard Yury say in a sing-song voice, “we’re coming in!”
Georgia had been ready for the shots that came through the door, and she thought she was ready for this—but she was tragically wrong.
Ivan kicked open the door and it flew back, striking Georgia’s hand with such force it broke two of her fingers on her right hand and knocked her into the wall. She dropped the gun in pain and crumpled to the floor.
No! Georgia’s mind screamed. Not again! She scrambled for the gun as Ivan and Yury burst through the entrance. Ivan swiftly kicked the gun, sending it skittering across the kitchen floor. Georgia made a desperate leap from her knees, just barely managing to catch the grip between her fingers.
She swung back to face them, the gun in her left hand, awkward and heavy, intending to aim it right at Ivan’s giant chest. When she turned around, however, she saw her brother bound and gagged, standing right next to Ivan, who had one hand on the back of Felix’s neck, and the other pointing a gun right at his head.
“Drop it,” Ivan said, no longer playing games. “Now. Or I’ll blast his fucking face all over the floor.”
Georgia hesitated, but when Ivan cocked the hammer she quickly set the gun aside. “Okay! Okay,” she said, putting her hands up. “So, I guess you just want to talk about Spike?”
/> Ivan let go of Felix and strode over to Georgia. He drew his hand back, the one still holding the gun, and backhanded Georgia across the face.
“Stupid girl,” he said, kicking her viciously.
Georgia wheezed, desperately gasping for air. The bruises on her side had only just begun to fade, and now new ones were forming. Her vision went dark and she fought to stay conscious.
“Get her up, Yury,’ Ivan ordered.
She tried to crawl away, but Yury caught her before she went even five feet. His hands gripped her under her armpits, and he hauled her back. Her side wrenched in the most painful way, and Georgia shrieked in agony.
Yury pulled her upright, supporting her with one arm wrapped around her waist. He clamped a hand over her mouth. “You’d better stop screaming right now, or I’m going to put a bullet in your brother.”
Georgia quieted, but she didn’t stop trying to push Yury’s hands off of her. He was holding her tightly from behind, pressing himself into her as he brought one of his hands up to roughly squeeze Georgia’s breast.
Felix’s eyes widened in horror as he watched Ivan take off his jacket. He began to frantically wriggle against his restraints as Ivan started to unbuckle his belt.
Georgia shut her eyes, wishing she had tried one last time to convince Spike to help her. They were in worse trouble than ever now, and no one was coming to save them.
“You’re going to learn what a terrible mistake it was to try to stop us,” Yury whispered in her ear as he smoothed her hair back.
There was a loud knock at the door and Georgia’s heart leapt. Spike! He came!
Ivan and Yury froze briefly, looking at each other. “Check the door,” Ivan ordered Yury, who was hurriedly redoing his pants and grabbing his gun off of the counter.
Yury stood off to the side of the door, much like Georgia had. He reached forward to grab the handle, looking back at Ivan, who was positioning himself in the kitchen. Ivan nodded and Yury ripped open the door, ready and waiting.
The sunlight shone through the door, casting an outline around the person in the doorway and blackening their face. They stepped in, and Georgia groaned, feeling more destitute than she ever had in her life.
Rocco looked around the room. After having called the police a few days ago and hearing nothing back, Rocco had attempted to contact Georgia. Her phone had been shut off, so he decided to stop by her house.
When he had walked up, he hadn’t noticed that there were more bullet holes than before, nor did he notice the dark town car parked down the road. He only heard Georgia’s muffled voice, and he knew he wasn’t leaving until he got some answers.
The first thing he saw when he walked through the wide open door was Felix. He was lying on his side in front of the sofa, with ropes around his wrists and feet, and duct tape across his mouth. His eyes were rolling wildly as he tried to speak, his words suppressed by the tape.
Rocco immediately went to him, kneeling by his side. “Felix! What happened? Where’s Georgia??”
Felix began to wriggle against his constraints furiously, but to no avail. Yury had quietly stepped up behind Rocco, placing the cold muzzle of the gun to the back of his neck. Rocco went still.
“Get up,” Yury said softly.
Rocco raised his hands and slowly got to his feet. He noticed Georgia on the floor, blood trickling from a split in her lip and cheek. He took a step towards her, but Yury held it up to his face and Rocco stopped in his tracks.
“What are you, the boyfriend?” Ivan asked. “You sure seem to be protective over her.” He turned to look down at Georgia. “At least he showed up; Spike is nowhere to be seen.”
“Spike?” Rocco echoed. “Georgia, who are these men? What is going on?” he asked worriedly.
“You shouldn’t have come here,” Yury said. “Now you’re going to have to come back with us.” He was mocking Rocco, his face an exaggerated grimace.
No! Georgia thought desperately. I can’t have any more deaths on my hands! She looked around her, frantically searching for something that could help them. She spotted something, and got an idea.
“Oh, my side,” Georgia suddenly groaned loudly, as though in severe pain. She grabbed at her ribs and slowly sunk to the floor.
Rocco started forward, but Yury grabbed him and held him back. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.
“I think I have internal bleeding,” Georgia said, rolling onto her side and curling up into the fetal position.
Ivan came to stand over her, his enormous shadow blocking out the sunlight that filtered through the holes in the boarded up windows. “Get up,” he ordered her, but she didn’t move. “Get up!” he repeated angrily, planting his boot into her lower back and shoving her.
Georgia stayed where she was. Ivan strode over to her and bent down to haul her to her feet, grabbing her by her bicep. Suddenly, Georgia sprang up and stabbed Ivan in the muscle between his shoulder and neck with a long shard of the broken vase.
He fell back with a roar and Georgia made a dive for the counter where Ivan had left his gun. Before she even had the chance to grab it, a shot rang out, quickly followed by two more. Georgia whipped her head around to see what happened.
Rocco stood, swaying gently. Three blossoms opened on his chest, then ran down, soaking his shirt. He crumpled to the floor, blood seeping into the floor beneath him. As the life left his eyes, they never left Georgia’s. Georgia screamed, quickly silencing herself when Yury moved the gun to point at Felix.
Georgia heard a loud grunt behind her and she saw Ivan slowly rise to his feet. One of his hands was wrapped around the long bit of glass Georgia had stabbed him with, and the other was using a dish towel to apply pressure to the wound.
“That’s what happens when you do stupid things, you dolbo yeb,” Ivan angrily cursed, gesturing to Rocco’s body with the glass shard. “People get hurt. And what good did it do?” he asked, holding up Georgia’s ineffective weapon and tossing it aside.
Georgia was shaking her head. “Why did you come here, Rocco?” she moaned. “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone!”
“Look through the rooms,” Ivan ordered Yury. “Try to find something for us to take him out of here,” he said, meaning Rocco’s body.
Yury headed into her bedroom and Georgia could hear him ripping open drawers and pulling things off of shelves. He came back a few minutes later with a large suitcase.
“Think we can get him to fit in this?” Yury asked.
Ivan nodded. “That’ll work. Call Nicholas, have him come pick it up. We need to get out of here.” He turned to Georgia. “Are you going to be good, or do I need to tie you up like your brother?”
Georgia shook her head. “No, I’ll be good.”
Ivan sighed. “Oh, how I wish I could believe that,” he said, just before his fist slammed into the side of her face, knocking her unconscious.
Chapter Twelve
Spike looked around the table. “So, any questions? Comments? Concerns?” he asked everyone.
They had just finished discussing their plan on how to rescue Georgia—and Felix, if he was still alive. Spike was terrified that every second they spent talking strategy was another grain of sand in the hourglass of Georgia’s life, but even he realized barging in with no organization was a good way for everyone to end up dead.
“Let me just repeat how stupid of a reason this is,” Cleo said with a mocking smile on her face.
Spike sighed. “Noted. Anyone else?” No one said anything, so Spike continued. “Well, then, let me just say how much I appreciate all of you for doing this for me. I know not everyone is fully on board, but the fact that you’re risking your lives anyway…” Spike broke off, glancing at Tiny, who gave him an imperceptible nod. “You deserve to know the truth. Everything everyone said before was right; I put this girl before the gang because, well, I care about her.” Spike coughed roughly. “I love her, actually, and I think I would legitimately go insane if she died. So, there it is,” he finished lam
ely, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
Jinx rolled her eyes. “Fuckin’ finally,” she muttered under her breath.
“Thank you for telling us the truth about this. I am more than happy to help you,” Vince said solemnly. “All we ever wanted from you was your trust and respect as our leader.”
Spike nodded. “There’s nothing you guys ever did to make me feel like I couldn’t share this with you. I just got tied up in my own shit for a while.” Spike saw Cleo out of the corner of his eye. She looked disappointed, but unsurprised.
He wished he could tell her that she was enough, that she shouldn’t feel like she did anything wrong, but when he looked at her again, he saw she already knew. Cleo had never been someone who could be described as driven by her emotions.
