by Sophia Gray
A better man might have pulled over and put someone else in charge temporarily. But I wasn’t a better man. I was a man on a mission, and that mission was to save Jamie at all costs.
Revving my bike, the sounds of those behind me roaring up to match, I made a quick decision to risk the seemingly too easy setup. They knew we were coming already. Being cautious wouldn’t do us any favors. At least, that’s what I was telling myself.
I rode my bike as fast and as hard as I dared, right up to the front fucking porch. I was so close that I actually got up the three front steps and onto the veranda. I could see the whites of the eyes of the two assholes standing guard. In their surprised, scared faces, I could see that they hadn’t expected me to come up this close, which is why I did it. Maybe they’d anticipated that I would veer away at the last second, slide to a stop, and kick up dust, but I wasn’t about to leave that much room between us.
Jerking my bike hard to the left, I planted it nearly sideways, catching myself on my leg as I reached around behind me for the saddle bags. I found the barrel of my gun without looking, feeling the cool smooth metal, and wrapped my large fingers around it. By the time the poor excuses for guards realized what I was reaching for, it was already too late. I had my Benelli pointed at first one’s face, then the next. Each was followed by a face full of buckshot that tore them up before either had a chance to blink.
Their bodies fell to the wooden floor, blood and other bits clinging to what had once been their faces. Maybe I’d feel remorse for having killed them so quickly and efficiently, but I doubted it. I had no illusions that they’d have done the exact same thing to me if I’d given them even half a fucking chance.
I wouldn’t feel guilt for doing something that needed to be done, that they brought upon themselves.
The shots were loud, echoing off the walls and the overhang. The sound of my bike—and those behind me who had stopped at the base of the porch—managed to muffle some of it, but I was sure the rest of the Chaos Disciples would figure it out soon enough.
“Get to it!” I yelled to the boys behind me, not that I needed to. A quick glance back revealed that they were already dismounted and loading up. They had guns in their hands, and I knew there were knives tucked away in places that I couldn’t see. They were a small army following me into an unknown battle.
Travis moved forward and made it to the first step of the porch before the blast caught him square in the chest.
Fuck!
I threw my leg off my bike and hopped down the three steps to the ground where Travis was already slumping. I got him by the shoulders, but he was already down for the count. He coughed up blood twice, then his eyes rolled back into his head.
The shit had just started for real now.
Another shot rang out, then another. Soon, there was just a barrage of bullets. Some were from me and my guys, the rest from the Disciples. It took longer than I liked to find where the fucking bastards were hiding. They’d been hiding around the porch and on the roof and even in the goddamned trees.
Fucking everywhere.
Travis was the first of ours to go down, but he wasn’t the last. Not by a long shot. I saw Clint hit the deck and Jarren took one in the arm. He was wailing like a banshee but managed to get along the side of the house and fire from the side.
I had my focus on the house. My goal was to get inside that damn house, and now that I’d been stupid enough to jump down from the porch, it was proving harder to get back up there. I’d been reacting to Travis going down, which was stupid of me. He was dead the moment he took it in the chest. Nothing I did was going to change that.
Fucking stupid, I thought as I hid behind one of the bikes—I thought it was Travis’s—to avoid another bullet. I heard it ping off the metal siding and suddenly questioned the safety of this hiding place.
I didn’t know if all those damn movies with the exploding gas tanks were legit, but I wasn’t willing to chance it.
Pushing up to my knees, I twisted at my waist to pull my Benelli around towards where the shots originated. I found a brazen brat of a man pointing a pistol at me like a fucking gangster. His wrist was twisted to the side, the top of the barrel pointed towards his own damn face, and I was willing to bet he was going to catch a hot fucking shell against his cheek pretty quick.
Or not, I thought as I blasted him with heavy 12-gauge shot and he went down like a rock off a fucking cliff.
Didn’t even get the chance to get burned by his own poor shooting skills.
Taking the opportunity, I got up from behind the motorcycle and made a break for the porch again. The shots kept coming, and I felt a sharp burning when one grazed along my back, tearing through the leather and the shirt beneath it. It stung but was probably barely enough to draw blood.
I ignored it and took two of the steps at once to hit the porch as quickly as possible. I ducked as soon as I got there, another Chaos Disciple rounding the corner on the porch with me, a pistol gripped tightly in his pale hands.
“Fucker!” I heard him yell just before he pulled the trigger again.
I dove out of the way, laying out on the floor to dodge the shot. Propping up on one arm, I awkwardly braced the shotgun against my shoulder and pulled the trigger. I missed, the bastard diving out of the way and back around the corner to avoid it.
Part of me wanted to go after him but I was too close to the damn door. My guys were still fighting out here, and it looked like a good chunk of the Disciples had tumbled out of whatever holes they were hiding in, so I was hopeful that they wouldn’t be in-force inside the house.
Or maybe they had a hell of a lot more men than I anticipated.
Either way, I was willing to risk it.
Before the chicken-shit could decide to try and come back around the corner to shoot at me again, I pushed myself up and made a break for the door. I expected it to be locked, so I charged it, throwing my shoulder against the hard wood there. It gave easily.
Should have tried the damn knob first, I thought for half a second before stumbling through the doorway.
I came into a room that looked like the living room but not one that should have belonged to a notorious motorcycle club. It looked like something my fucking parents would have invested it when they were still alive, complete with dollies and floral patterns.
Never mind the damn flowers, where’s Jamie?
I glanced around quickly, checking to see where they might have taken her. There was a kitchen on the other side of the room, a set of stairs beside it that looked like they went to the basement, and nearest to the front door where I stood was another set of stairs that led to the second floor.
I quickly ruled out the kitchen—I’d have heard something from there when I broke through the door, I reasoned—which left me the two staircases. Which one? I didn’t have a lot of time to waste, and I’d already lost enough as it was.
Finally, I decided on the second floor. It was where I’d have taken Jamie, and it was closest to me.
I had just turned towards the stairs when a large hand clamped down on my arm and jerked me back. I fell heavily onto my back. When I blinked, I stared down the barrel of a Colt .45.
Chapter Nineteen
Jamie
I received another hard slap across the face. It stung, though I felt guilty and weak for even thinking that when I knew, just on the other side of that wall, Kato had been feeling far worse and more frequent pain. I’d been slapped across the face a handful of times, and already, I was cringing away from Diego’s hand. How would I hold up against real torture?
Abysmally, I thought with certainty. I wished I was stronger, that I could do more. This helpless feeling was worse than anything else but there was nothing I could do about it. It was awful and made my stomach churn.
“Fucking tell me, you bitch!”
I had just enough humor left to think it was ironic that he’d chastised one of his men for using foul language me when Diego himself had been cussing up a storm every time
he got a little pissed off. Or a lot pissed off. He didn’t seem to have a lot of range when it came to emotions. It was either calm and collected or so pissed off that he had to be seeing red.
A charming individual.
The urge to rub at my stinging cheeks was strong but my arms were still crossed behind me. They were cinched together thanks to the metal cuffs, and since they were crossed around the chair, my hands didn’t have the same kind of mobility my legs had.
Not that they were exactly doing a lot of moving.
Fact was, I was stuck to that chair, regardless of what I wanted. About the only bright side to all of this was that no one had tried to…to touch me. That man from earlier, the one who had kidnapped me—Leo—hadn’t reappeared, and Rio had practically started snoozing in the corner, he was so bored. It was a small thing to be grateful for, but I’d take it.
Anything, at this point.
Of course, Diego wasn’t above threatening that particular kind of torture, so the comfort only went so far. He could decide that I’m worthless at any minute and just throw me to the wolves. Again, that helplessness returned in full force.
I couldn’t help Kato, and I couldn’t help myself.
I hated Diego and his men even more now than I did when they ran me off the road. And I hated them a lot after that.
“Do you need more incentive?” Diego demanded, pointing with his phone towards the wall. On the other side was Kato, and I winced against the thought of him being tortured further.
I shook my head, willing him to leave the poor man alone.
“Then tell me what Pax is planning!”
I opened my mouth to tell him something, anything, knowing that it would be a lie. But I couldn’t think of anything. If Pax had some sort of plan before I left—which I assumed he did—then he hadn’t told me about it. I didn’t know anything. I wasn’t one of his men, and we’d only just connected before he’d sent me off for my own safekeeping.
The irony in that was almost enough to send me into a fit of hysterical giggles, but before I could laugh, cry, or lie outright—and before Diego could press those buttons again—we heard the sounds.
It started with a rumbling that seemed to come from the earth itself. It was all around us. I frowned, wondering what the hell it was, but Diego seemed to know right away. He cursed and spat. “Shit. I thought I had more fucking time.”
He shoved his phone back down into his pocket, and I had a moment to be relieved before he reached out and grabbed a handful of my hair. He wrapped his meaty fist in it, then jerked back, hard. I winced against the pain of my hair pulling but would gladly have let him pull harder if it meant getting him the fuck away from me.
Instead, he got up close and in my face. “You bitch. They’re already here. If you think you’ve saved yourself by holding out, you’re wrong. They’ll die, and you will, too, but not before the boys have some fun.”
He released me then, shoving my head back away from him harshly. With one last lingering glare at me, he turned and headed towards the stairs. That was when I heard new sounds. More, louder rumbling from above us this time and then two loud, echoing pops. They sounded like fireworks.
Or…
“Gunshots,” I muttered.
Diego was already at the top of the stairs, bursting out the door as more popping sounds echoed down to me. I was almost positive that they were gunshots now, though I hardly dared to hope. Gunshots meant a fight, which meant Pax and his men where here to rescue me, right?
That was why Diego was so panicked.
I couldn’t tell if it was just desperation mixed with wishful thinking that had me praying that the noises from upstairs were a battle, but I didn’t much care. Anything that pulled Diego and Rio away from me was a good thing. And I couldn’t help but notice that the screaming from the next room was gone.
I could only hope that they’d left Kato alone, too.
Biting my lip, I eyed the wall. I seriously considered calling out to Kato, but what if they hadn’t left him alone? Would they torture him without commands from Diego, just because I tried to communicate?
Quickly, I decided that I had to risk it.
“Kato?” My voice sounded wobbly, even to my own ears. I swallowed harshly and tried again. “Kato? Can you hear me?”
There was a long pause of silence. I kept waiting, straining my ears in the hopes that maybe he would respond, but there was nothing. I imagined him breathing heavily, recovering from the horrible torture they were inflicting upon him. Because of me.
Shaking my head, I forced the thought away. No, not because of me, because these people were assholes, terrible human beings that didn’t care about the lives of those around them. That wasn’t my fault. I was sorry that I couldn’t stop his torture, and I would probably never forget the sounds of his screams—assuming I survived all of this—but I refused to believe that it was my fault.
“Just hold on, Kato,” I called to the wall, even though he hadn’t responded. I hoped that he would at least hear me and have some hope. “I think Pax’s here.”
My stomach took a tumble, wrapping around itself in a mixture of desperate hope and the strong desire to see him. I really wanted him to save me. I really wanted someone to save me, especially since I didn’t think I could save myself.
I gave each of my feet a quick jerk, rattling the cuffs, but I didn’t gain anything. They strained, but when the links were pulled taut, all movement stopped. Then I tried my wrists. I was thinking maybe I could pull my hands through since they were little. Well, they were long and thin, anyway. But as I tried tugging first on one hand, then the other, I found that it was useless. The cuffs were tight enough that all I was managing to do was make my wrists sore and uncomfortable. I imagined they were red and raw.
Straining my ears, I tried to listen to what was happening above. There was stomping and shouting, more popping sounds. Most of them sounded like they were coming from outside, though, and my heart dropped a little.
Had no one even made it inside yet?
I renewed my attempts to get the hell out of there, but I wasn’t having any better luck. I was busy trying to yank my hands through the handcuffs once more when I heard the footsteps.
They came down the stairs, and for a second, I was so relieved. He’s finally here!
But when I jerked my chin up to watch the stairs, I found myself quickly disappointed…and scared.
It was a man coming down the steps. I saw his boots first, and as they clomped quickly down the stairs, I saw the rest of him. Instant recognition washed through me and not in a good way. Oh, no, not him.
It was the man who shot Alex. The same one that had dragged me into the house with every intent on screwing me, whether I was willing or not. My body shuddered in disgust. I wanted more than anything to be free of that chair with the chance to run as far from him as humanly possible. But the cuffs wouldn’t give. I was completely alone, cuffed to the chair, without even a chance of getting away or fighting back.
“Well, we meet again,” Leo said, grinning broadly. It wasn’t an attractive smile. He dragged his eyes over my body, just like he’d done in the car, and I wanted to scream for someone to help me. Anyone was better than this revolting man, even Diego.
Swallowing, I motioned towards the stairs. “What’s going on upstairs?”
Leo waved off my question like it was an annoying fly. “Never you mind that. It’s nothing. We’ve got other things to focus on.”
I resisted the urge to shudder again as best I could because I remembered how he’d taken that reaction in the car—as an invitation. “Your boss was just down here. He’ll be back any minute.”
Leo actually laughed at me. The sound was unpleasant and nasally, making him seem even more like the worm he was. Grinning, he approached me, taking slow, calculated steps. “I think he’s a little busy right now, meaning we’ve got all the time in the world, sweetcakes.”
I shook my head. No, don’t let him get any closer! Don’t let h
im touch me!
He stopped maybe a foot or so from me, pausing to examine the chair I was strapped to. He seemed to be considering it. Slowly, he began walking a full circle around it. There was shouting and more popping from above. He paused, glancing at the ceiling briefly, but the sounds didn’t hold his attention for long.
I felt sick—not just because of his presence, which was enough to do it—because of his indifference. If he wasn’t worried, did that mean nothing important was going on? Did that mean that Pax wasn’t actually here?
I shook my head to clear the thought as best I could, but it was hard. Really hard. He said he’d come for me, I reminded myself before I started panicking or hyperventilating. And Diego seemed worried. Maybe this guy’s just an idiot.
That was pretty easy to believe, so I forced myself to go with that.
