Web of Lies

by Elizabeth Knox

  Charlie coughed under the weight of his anxiety. His throat seized as Cris’s gaze intensified upon him, demanding answers without uttering a word from his mouth. Then, as the silence became deafening, Cris exploded.

  “CHARLIE!” Cris shouted, his face turning red with animosity, his fingers closing into fists of rage. Cris’s eyes were cold with malice. He spoke sternly, coldly. “Where is Alanna?!”

  Staring at his friend squarely in the eyes, Charlie replied, “Luca took her.”

  Cris’s face screwed painfully as his hands went up to his head. Clenching his hair, Cris wanted to scream. Charlie wrapped his arms around Cris in a bear hug, holding him down as his hands began to shake terribly. Cris shook silently under Charlie’s hold, but then a raspy voice rattled from his throat.

  Speaking in a staccato beat, Cris growled, “Let go of me.”

  The second Charlie let go of Cris, he broke off into a run. He reached for his baseball bat that sat on the edge of the porch and gripped it tightly as he bolted off down Second Street with a look of murderous hostility permeating from his eyes.

  “Cris!” Hector yelled with a look of extreme worry in his eyes. But when Cris did not answer, Hector slapped Tony on his arm and yelled, “Tony! Go with him! Watch his back!”

  As Hector rushed off the porch and ran as quickly as he could to Maude’s house, Charlie, Torian and Tony raced behind Cris, trying to keep up. Try as they might, though, Cris was a much faster runner than they were. Cris gritted his teeth as he ran as fast as his body would carry him.

  “Vai se fuder, Luca!”

  Clenching the bat by his side as he raced forward, Cris’s muscles ached with exertion, but he didn’t dare let himself slow down, even by a fraction. As Charlie, Tony and Torian ran behind Cris, they knocked on doors and called out to guys standing on street corners that they knew would stand up for the fight. A melee was about to break out, and Cris was leading the charge. His usual cool was gone. There was no kindness to be found in his gaze. Tony had not seen this side of his brother since they left Lisbon. Cris was on the warpath and he would not let up until Alanna was returned.

  As Cris tore ahead, fueled by rage and fear, malice and murderous bloodthirst, a large group of some of South End’s most roughed up teens formed behind him.

  Sweat beaded down Peck’s bare back, rolling over his network of tattoos as he continued to wind through the streets of South End hot on Luca’s trail. He swerved through the streets, gaining the attention of the corner gangs as he trailed Luca’s well-known car. He spotted Lev on the corner of 4th and Jackson. Lev gave Peck a nervous look. He could tell that something was up.

  “Yo!” Peck yelled loudly. “Find Brian, call T. Get a crew together and get to his club. Serrano and his boys are gonna be on their way!”

  “What the fuck’s goin’ on?!” Lev demanded to know.

  “Luca. He’s got Lana. I’m tailin’ ‘em.”

  The expression on Lev’s face changed from confusion to one of absolute rage. His nostrils snarling, Lev shouted back, “I got you. Go!”

  Immediately he picked up his phone and dialed Brian Foley’s digits. Throttling forward on his bike, Peck continued his chase, his thoughts becoming more venomous by the second.

  My blood is on fire as I open my eyes. The rumbling of tires beneath me tells me we are still in the car, moving fast. I don’t know where they intend to take me, but I know it’s a trap for Peck. My body feels heavy; like I’m sinking beneath the waves of the ocean with cement weights tethered to my extremities. My sight is blurry. It feels like the car is spinning in circles. I clasp onto the leather seats smearing some of Luca’s blood across the smooth surface. The radio is on but it keeps playing the same song over and over again at a low interval. I used to like the song, but right now, it’s infuriating me. Rag Doll by Frankie Valli & the Four Seasons. I am most certainly not Luca’s rag doll, or anyone else’s. If I’m going to fight back I need to shake out of this stupor. I don’t know how long I’ve been out— It can’t be long, we’re still in South End. I can see the tops of the run-down row houses from my vantage point. C’mon, shake it off. Ride out the wave. But try as much as I want, I don’t have the energy to move my limbs.

  My eyes begin to focus. I can see the spatter of blood on the ceiling of the car. I can see Luca’s hand resting on the seat next to me, his gold insignia ring just inches from my face. The loud hum of a motorcycle steadily roars behind the car. Though the noise is loud, it is a source of deep comfort for me.

  My heart races in my chest, thrumming loudly like a drum line. Each beat a reminder that I am alive, each beat a warning of how fragile human life is. These men had the ability to stop my heart . . . but as I look at Paco’s dead body lying slumped over himself in the passenger seat, I am firmly reminded, I have just as much power. The bright lights of the stadium shine in the distance. We are moving away from South End. Where the hell are they taking me? But as my mind continues to wander, an unwanted vision plagues my sight. Luca, still holding a bloody rag to his neck, leans in closer to my face. Though he is in obvious pain, a slippery smile curls up from his lips. “It’s not time to wake yet, Bella,” he says in a cool voice. There is something white on his fingertip. A white powder. I turn my head away, but he clasps onto the bottom of my jaw with his other hand, keeping my head locked in place. I want to fight. I want to punch and scream and kick and disable him, but as much as I try, my limbs are like jelly. As his sick smile broadened upon his face, Luca brought his finger to my lips. Parting them gently, he placed the powder along my gums. Although I can see and hear everything that is happening around me, I cannot move any longer. I want to bite down upon Luca’s bandaged hand, but I can’t. I am frozen in my drug-addled state. As the cocaine hits my system, I am once again locked in a cage, bucking and breaking against my bonds. But this time I cannot set myself free. I’m falling. I’m slipping into oblivion. I’m burning under the intense tidal wave of Belladonna. Suddenly, I understood Luca’s nickname for me. He had planned this all along. Violent waves crashed upon me, fire flooding my bloodstream. By the sound of Luca’s voice, I can tell, he thinks he has me cornered. But as the waves keep coming, I remind myself, I’m a strong swimmer. Peck’s voice floods my brain, “You know how I live, Lana. One breath at a time.” Keep breathing. Keep fighting. Stay focused. I am stronger than the drug that courses through me. I am bolder than the ties that bind me. I am smarter than the men who chain me. They will be sorry they ever laid eyes on the girl that they named Raven.

  Hector ripped open the screen door of Maude’s house and hustled inside with an urgent tone to his voice. A terrible scream called out from the kitchen as a porcelain dish crashed to the floor.

  “What do you mean, she was taken?!” Maude demanded of Nick in a desperate cry. “Why was she alone?!”

  Nick stammered, “Tony must not have come back yet and she didn’t call any of us to come get her . . .”

  “Hector wouldn’t have let her go alone!” Maude insisted. “He’s been like a father to her . . .”

  “Maude . . .” Hector said in a gentle voice as he entered the kitchen. His eyes met hers with a pleading tone to his gaze. “Maude, I was asleep on the couch. I didn’t even know she was there.”

  Maude wrung her hands together as she gave Hector a nervous glance. Her breath was shallow as a cry ripped from her mouth. Snapping down, she began sweeping up the shards of porcelain from the plate she dropped.

  “Leave it, Gran,” Nick said as he reached for the broom. “Talk to Hector. I got it.”

  Hector cut across the kitchen and wrapped a supportive arm around Maude as he guided her to a kitchen chair. “Sit,” Hector said firmly.

  As Maude lowered herself into a chair, she brought a hand to her mouth and tried to swallow down her emotions. Her mind was running a mile a minute and she didn’t know what to do. Nick told her that Peck said not to call the police, but her first instinct was to call 9-1-1 immediately.

  “Have you called anyone?�
�� Hector asked firmly. As a cry ripped from Maude’s mouth, Hector gave her a worried glance. Then, when Maude didn’t respond, Hector looked over at Nick. “Nicholas? Did you call anyone?”

  “Peck said not to because it would put her in more danger.”

  “Okay, so first things first . . . we need to at least call that detective that has been working on her other case. Even if we don’t call the police to file a report til tomorrow, we need to make sure he is aware.”

  “What do you mean, tomorrow?” Maude sobbed. “Don’t you think we’ll get her back tonight?”

  Hector placed a gentle hand on Maude’s shoulder. “I certainly hope so, Maude. The police can’t take any action until twenty-four hours has passed though.”

  “I don’t understand why we can’t call the police!” Maude exclaimed as tears ran down her face. “My granddaughter is out there, in the clutches of a mad man!”

  Hector gave Maude a deeply worried look. Placing his hand gently atop hers, he pleaded with her. “Maude . . .”

  “Hector, you don’t understand! He is insane! Girls do not escape from his clutches!”

  “He is a Kingpin. Very dangerous,” Hector said. “That is what Tony told me a few days ago. I want you to listen to me very carefully, Maude.”

  Maude looked up into Hector’s dark brown eyes and she found comfort there. After a moment of silence, Hector spoke again, “We know a thing or two about Kingpins . . . dangerous men. Peck is right. If his gang sees obvious police involvement, it will put Alanna in grave danger.”

  Wiping tears away from her eyes with a tissue, Maude asked, “Well then what do we do?”

  Hector patted Maude’s hand twice. “We call that detective and we keep our eyes peeled. All the boys are out there looking for her. I will be, too. Just stay calm until we hear something.”

  Nodding her head, Maude agreed as she watched Hector rise from his seat. Going to the refrigerator, he plucked the detective’s business card out from under a magnet. Walking over to the phone that hung on the wall of Maude’s kitchen, Hector picked up the phone and dialed the number for Detective Conrad.

  Cris had a look of absolute fury on his face as he continued to run at full throttle across South End. Gripping the bat, Cris didn’t bother avoiding the rough corners or the dark streets. He wasn’t looking to avoid trouble— Cris was running straight for the Devil’s lair. With his adrenaline coursing through his veins, Cris forgot all about feeling sick. With all the thoughts that were racing through Cris’s head, and the overwhelming rage and worry that flowed within him, Cris could only focus on two things: getting Alanna back safely and taking down anyone that stood in his way.

  I should have never gone to sleep. I should have sent her home with Peck. God damn it! Why would she walk alone?! Cris’s thoughts were on fire as guilt settled in his stomach. I was supposed to protect her, but she got taken leaving my house, taking care of me! Pathetic, Serrano! Man up! It’s just a fucking summer cold! I thought Tony was going to take her home. I figured Alanna would have called Peck to come get her . . . but knowing Alanna, she didn’t want to bother anyone. So she bit the bullet. She took her chances. And it backfired. This is not Alanna’s fault, though. Luca is the monster. Fact is, a girl should be able to walk down the fucking street without the fear of being taken by a mad man. Alanna said herself, she refused to live scared . . . and Luca is the type of man that would kick down a door to take whatever it is that he wants. Well he got it, but I hope he’s ready, because I’m bringing a motherfucking war to his door. I’m cool, I’m chill 99% of the time . . . but fuck with my girl and you get to see a whole new side of me. Better be prepared, Kingpin. The Serranos don’t fuck around, and I’m coming for your neck.

  A pack of forty trailed behind Cris— a ragtag crew comprised of guys loyal to Peck, Torian’s basketball squad, guys from Lev’s tattoo shop, a handful of guys from the hockey team. Some guys that had gone to Henshaw with Alanna and the boys, a large group of Torian’s cousins from Vicker Avenue, Brian’s boys from the West Side, and a few of Charlie’s friends from his old block. Lev led a pack of men down Fourth Street, all able-bodied, hot tempered, and ready for a brawl. Lev’s crew merged with the crowd and followed Cris towards Luca’s club which was now just two blocks away. The noise pouring out from the crowd intensified with each step. Swinging the bat in his hand, Cris cracked it against the street pounding a staccato beat as they closed in around Luca’s club. Brian emerged from his black pick-up truck in plain clothes, nodded at Cris, then filed in rank next to Lev and his boys. They pressed on, walking fast towards the corner of Sixth and Tasker with enraged looks upon their faces. As they approached the corner, Cris stood on the edge of the curb as the massive crew circled around him. Peering around at them, Cris took a breath before he said the words that would start it all.

  “Yo Kingpin!” Cris shouted. “You messed with the wrong one, son!”

  The corner was eerily quiet as Cris waited for a response. When the door didn’t open, Cris took matters into his own hands. Swinging the aluminum bat in his hand, he struck the metal door of the club, not once, not twice, not four times. With each swing he left a permanent indent in the door. The crowd egged Cris on, cheering as he slapped the door over and over again.

  “I’m done fuckin’ around wit’ you!” Cris shouted again his eyes rabid with hostility. “Come on out here! Show your ugly mug!”

  Torian and Charlie exchanged a surprised glance. They had never heard Cris talk this way before. If they didn’t know better, they would have thought it was Peck there standing in front of them. With his attitude and his rage on full display, Cris ran his fingers through his black hair. Sucking air in through his teeth, Cris was ready for whatever came flying out that door. Everyone waited tensely for something to happen, then after thirty seconds of intense silence, the deadbolt of the door came unlocked with a sharp bang.

  “Get ready,” Torian said as he pulled his gun from his waistband.

  “I’m always fuckin’ ready,” Tony spat.

  “Think she’s inside?” Charlie asked.

  “No tellin’ with these assholes,” Torian said as he stepped forward and tucked a handgun in Cris’s back pocket. Not saying a word, Torian backed away again.

  “How much you wanna bet that she ain’t?” Brian barked. “I don’t see his car anywhere.”

  “Whatever . . .” Tony spat. “We can at least get some information and rough up his boys. They’ll see we mean fucking business.”

  “Let’s do this,” Lev barked. “C, you good?”

  Cris didn’t reply though. Stretching his neck muscles, he let some of the tension roll down his back, just enough to let him keep his edge. As the door groaned open, Cris launched off the balls of his feet. As Angel Lobiondo stepped out of the club with a callous look on his face, Cris went swinging, colliding the bat once more with the metal surface of the door.

  “What the fuck, man?!” Angel spat as Cris leered at him with the bat.

  “Where’s Alanna?! Bring her out!” Cris demanded.

  “Who?!” Angel yelled, not recognizing the name.

  Seeing Cris getting flustered, his face red with tension, Torian yelled out, “Bring us Raven!”

  Angel looked over his shoulder as Stitches DelFino, one of Luca’s high-ranking constituents strolled out with Rigo and Jake at his back. Stitches, was dressed head to toe in black. He wore a cold expression upon his face as he stared out at the crew that had assembled outside the club. Then, he turned his eyes upon Cris and spat, “Raven’s not here.”

  “Where the fuck is Luca?!” Cris spat, his eyes watering with rage. Every muscle in his body quaked with hostility.

  With a nonchalant expression on his face, Stitches shrugged his shoulder and said, “He ain’t here either.”

  Without another word, Stitches pushed Cris firmly in his chest with his open hand and spat, “Now back off! This is our turf!”

  Stitch shoved Cris forcefully, but Cris stood strong under the push. As Sti
tch turned away, Cris became brazen. Gripping his bat tighter, he slapped the edge of his back against the door slamming the door shut.

  “You off your rocker, son?!” Stitch snarled at Cris.

  Cris smirked darkly as he pulled the gun Torian had passed him out of his back pocket. Swinging his arm around, he pressed the gun to Stitch’s chest. “Tell me where Luca took Raven,” Cris barked coldly.

  “You better get off our property, kid. Because this is a fight you don’t want.”

  Cris laughed as a nasty sneer crossed his face. “In case you haven’t fuckin’ noticed, douchebag . . . We brought the war to your front step.” Taking the safety off the gun, Cris pressed his weapon into Stitch’s face. Stitch showed no signs of fear though. A slick smile grew up from his lip. Bringing his left hand to his mouth, Stitch felt the whiskers of his beard as he cast Cris an observant gaze.

  “If it’s a fight you want, a fight you’ll get.”

  “Where’s Luca?” Cris demanded to know.

  “Where’s Peck?” Stitch barked back.

  Cris was mute on the subject of Peck’s whereabouts though. Stitch raised his eyebrows as an amused smirk crossed his face.

  “That girl’s gonna get hurt,” Stitch said. “And you’d rather protect your boy.”

  “And if she is, it’ll be a bullet in your brain . . .” Torian barked over the crowd.

  Stitch smirked at Torian, “Eye for an eye, brother. Remember that. Eye for a fuckin’ eye.”

  “Where’s Alanna?!” Cris once again demanded to know.

  Stitch shrugged as he backed away from Cris’s gun. “With Luca,” he said firmly.

  “And where the fuck is Luca?!” Cris snarled.

  Once again, Stitch laughed. “Bring me Peck and we’ll talk.”