by M Dauphin
I want him fucking done, unable to do this to any more women. Ever.
“Fuck!” he bellows, realizing the harder he pulls my head the more it hurts him.
That’s when the door opens and gives me my cue to unlatch. The man immediately falls to the floor, wailing in pain, and I spit on him, red blood and all, before turning to face Zeke.
“What the fuck did you do?” His growl used to seem menacing, now it sounds a bit scared. I guess seeing any man’s dick bloody and mutilated will do that to a man.
I shrug and grin, wiping the blood from my face.
“You want a turn?” I grin, standing tall.
“But—” he stammers. “The PCP! You’re…”
“It wore off, Zeke. Whatever they gave me didn’t last but a few hours. You’re really fucking bad at this whole ‘bad guy’ thing.” I spit again, the metallic taste of the blood making my stomach roll.
“God damnit, girl!” he bellows, storming across the room and grabbing me by the arm hard enough to leave marks. He doesn’t give me time to get my footing as he drags me out of the room and down the hall. I fight, trying to get him off of me, but his hold on my arm is so painful it’s all I can do not to focus on the pain.
When we make it into a room… his room… he slams the door and throws me to the floor.
“I’m going to teach you a mother fucking lesson,” he growls, coming for me and ripping off the sequin dress they put on me before sending me out to dance for the pigs. One-handed, still nursing the arm I broke just a couple days ago, he rips the dress off of me and throws it across the room.
Wearing nothing but the hooker heels, I’m completely bare to him, but I’m not about to give up now.
“Get the fuck off of me!” I wail, kicking up at him. He pins me to the floor, his body pressing against mine so I can feel the strain of his erection through his pants.
“Keep fighting. It gets me off,” he whispers, leaning in. Before his lips can get to mine, I buck back and slam my head up into his, sending him backwards. “Jesus fucking Christ!” His hand comes flying at my face and before I can react I feel the sting of his hit. The pain in my lip tells me it’s busted, and when he hauls back and hits me again my eye immediately starts to burn.
Fuck.
“Boss!” A man bursts through the door, stunning both of us. “Zeke get the hell out of here! Get her out!” The man wails, pointing to me. “Now!”
That’s when we hear the gunshots.
Eddie. He came. They’re here to save me.
At the sound of machine guns and loud explosions shaking the walls, my stomach drops.
If they hurt him I’ll fucking Rambo their asses.
Zeke growls, screams, cusses, and grabs me by the hair.
I scream and fight, but it’s no use against his strength. With the drugs still leaving my system I’m shocked I’ve had this much fight in me already. He’s busted his other arm out of the sling it was in and grabbed his gun, pointing it at my temple causing me to halt any fight I had left in me. I’ve hit survival mode. Naked, bruised, and bloodied, he drags me by my hair to a back door I never knew existed. Away from the men attempting to save me.
Again.
Eddie
Ten men on the front door. Three-men teams on each exit door.Four cars waiting in the streets, ready for anyone who tries to escape, and Tatum and I firmly planted in the back seat of Zeke’s 2016 Jag he probably spent Daddy’s money on. It’s a plan I pray will work and keep me in the path of Zeke and not the dozens of men he employs to keep him safe.
“This gonna work?” I whisper, starting to regret not being the one busting down the front door.
“You know for a fact he’s not going to be at that front door. The men in our team are equipped for battle… you and me aren’t. By any means. Not in this country. Those men we have out there are the type who shoot first and ask questions later.”
“Right.” I nod, peeking at my watch.
“Ten minutes, ya’ll,” Tatum says into the tiny earpiece he made us all put in.
“Got it. In place,” a man whispers through the earpiece. That man is Guardo, a guard that Tatum brought with us from Texas. The best he has, and I believe it. The man fucking scares me. I’m not sure why the Savage crew hasn’t put him on the case sooner. He wouldn’t have let half this shit happen. When we get back to Texas, Tatum and I will be having a very serious conversation about this business of his. If I’m going to stay on as their private investigator, I need to make sure shit like this doesn’t have a chance of happening anymore. I have more than myself to worry about now.
Hell, my kids and my wife are ten times more important than myself any day of the week. If I’m worried about their safety I’m not going to be taking any more jobs from them.
“Rolling,” another voice says in my ear. Philippe, the driver of one of the cars parked a block down, announces.
We’ve planned this to a tee. All I can hope is that we haven’t taken too long and that Red’s still inside. Even if we get this place and Zeke, I’m not finished until I find my Red.
“We’re getting her back, Eddie. Today. And I’m spending every damn day of my life from here on out trying to make it known just how sorry I am for putting you and your family in harm’s way.”
Tatum’s determined, and he better fucking be. It’s his goddamned fault this fuckery is happening in the first place.
“Yea,” I mumble, my knee jumping in anticipation. Nothing has gone right so far in the search for her, today needs to be better.
“We never decided what we’re going to do with Diaz when we get him, man,” he whispers, watching a guard walk across the parking lot. Or at least I think it’s a guard. Whoever it is, I’m thankful these windows are tinted almost pitch-black so they can’t see us in here.
“I’m going to murder him. Right after I burn the skin from his face,” I growl. “Every time I close my eyes I see her. The images he’s sent? That’s all I have to go on, Tatum. For the last month that’s all I’ve seen of my Red. It’s either bruised and battered or half naked in a strip club. Is that what you want to see of your wife?”
He growls and clutches his gun.
“No.”
“Exactly. Diaz doesn’t deserve a quick death.”
Tatum nods and watches the club as I zone out.
My Red… my rock… I can’t fucking lose her.
Not again.
I still remember the despair when I finally came to after being such a fucking dick to her for three months after my accident. I remember the feeling like it was just yesterday. The feeling of remembering how much of an asshole you’ve been, then realizing you may never get to apologize to the one person you love most in the world.
Jesus…
***
Jolting out of the chair, full of sweat, breathing like I just ran a mother fucking marathon, I frantically look around the room.
“NO... Oh, son of a bitch!”
I remember everything. Every fucking detail of that night and of the months leading up to that night.
My Red.
That’s why she doesn’t want me calling her that because I used it as a term of endearment and not as a joke nickname. Oh my GOD, I’ve been so terrible to her!
Rushing through the house to find my phone, I’m shaking, waiting for it to turn back on.
Pings and notifications scream at me when it’s fully on, but I ignore them. With shaking hands and no voice, I call her just to be sent to voicemail immediately.
“Shit, shit, shit, FUCK!!” I yell to the empty house, frantically trying to figure out where she could be.
“MOLLY...Molly, Tatum, Jesus... oh my God...”
Calling Tatum, he picks up on the first ring, pissed as fuck,
“What the fuck are you doing, Eddie?! Get your fucking ass to the mother fucking hospital before I beat you so badly you won’t be able to walk for mother fucking weeks!” he screams at me, the maddest I’ve heard him since he lost Molly last year.
Son of a bitch, my head is swimming with memories.
Oh my God, the hospital.
Red.
No, God please, no. I haven’t even gotten her back yet!
I don’t have my truck, and I’m still feeling the effects of the beers from earlier. I call a cab and wait impatiently for it, screaming at them to take me to the hospital as soon as the door opens.
Dear God, please don’t take her from me.
***
And here I sit. Begging, again in our short time together, for God not to take her from me. I need her. I’m not myself when she’s not around. I can’t do this whole parenting thing without her!
“One minute,” Tatum whispers. “Move on,” he says again. There’s no noise from the other side of the radio, but that was the directions they got. After the ten-minute check-in, radio silence. Diaz is smart, he’s probably got lines tapped into. Any word on giving away what we’re up to and we’re toast. We went as far as sending another massive, not too stealthy crew to the Diaz home in the southwest quarter of the region as a distraction.
The first sign things are going as planned is the gunshots. Our men had two rules: Get in, and kill everyone but Diaz and Gwynn.
I’ve never been so pumped about lives being lost, but Jesus Christ I’m over this game.
This ends today.
“Get ready,” Tatum growls, watching men come scattering from the building, just to drop dead five feet from the building. They’re being picked off by our men without a fucking warning.
“Jesus,” I huff.
“They were given directions, Eddie. You want to find her or not?”
“Yea. Fuck yes I do.” I close my eyes for a moment and realign my brain.
Red. My fucking girl. That’s what matters. The men in that club… they don’t deserve the peaceful ending that’s coming to them. They deserve to be burned at the stake just like Diaz, because they had their greasy eyes and probably hands on my fucking wife.
She’s mine. No one else’s. And no one touches her.
Period.
“Here he comes,” Tatum whispers, nudging my leg. My heart speeds up as the back door cracks open. The angle we’re at, though, we can’t see anything for way too long.
What the fuck is he doing?
I hear Tatum unlock his gun and prepare for Diaz to get in the car.
The plan is to stop him from running then find out where Gwynn is. Simple enough.
When he fucking drags my nude wife by the hair out of the building I see red. Without a logical train of thought I barrel from the car, leaving my gun inside the cab with Tatum.
“Eddie, stop!” I hear Tatum hiss but I’m on autopilot. Flying out of the car, I run straight for Diaz and end up with a gun to the forehead. Skidding to a halt, I flick my eyes to Red and see the blood and bruises on her and my heart about beats out of my damn chest. Mother fucker. Red’s eyes lock with mine and I see the fury. She hasn’t given up. My Red hasn’t given up. When he yanks her, making her whimper, I growl and fist my hands at my sides, furious I was stupid enough to leave my gun in the car.
“Let her go. You can have me. I’m what you want anyway,” I growl, eyeing Diaz.
“Drop the gun, Zeke,” Tatum announces from behind me. I turn to see his gun aimed at Zeke.
“And why the hell would I do that?!” Zeke hollers, flipping the gun between the two of us. “No, I think things are just like they need to be right now.” He cocks the gun back at me and Red growls, pulling at the hold he has on her.
“Let him fucking go, Zeke,” she growls, trying to get out of his grasp. Fuck, my girl’s a fucking fighter.
Just as I think she’s going to get away, he pulls her to his body and tightens his arm around her.
“What? You gonna bite my dick off too? Fucking cunt,” he growls, biting into her neck making her fight to get out of his grasp even more desperate. I growl, my heart beating out of my chest, aching to kill this man. I want to ask what the fuck he’s talking about… bite what?... but when he shoves the gun to her forehead, I freeze.
“Don’t fucking do this, Zeke,” I manage, suddenly feeling helpless and at his mercy.
If he shoots her… fuck.
“Put the gun down and we’ll figure something out, Zeke,” Tatum says, slowly walking towards him.
“Fucking, Savage,” Zeke says, chuckling. “You’re horrible at detective work. And at training guards. And honestly at making kids, too. Jesus… you’re just a complete fucking failure.” He chuckles but it falls flat. “One gun isn’t going to scare me,” he growls, then pulls Red in front of him. “I have protection.”
I look at her slowly, taking in the bruises marring her beautiful porcelain skin, and feel my skin crawl. He fucking did this to her. All of it. The blood on her hands; I’m not sure where it came from but it’s not hers. She doesn’t seem to have any open wounds other than her lip, and that wouldn’t have bled that much.
Did he seriously say she bit someone’s dick off?
“Let her go, Zeke,” Tatum growls, gun aimed at the man’s forehead.
Zeke laughs and shakes his head.
“You must take me for a fool. Here’s what’s really going to happen,” he starts. “I’m going to walk away from here with your wife, right after I put a bullet through your head,” he says, wiggling the gun at me. “And you,” he states, pointing his eyes towards Tatum. “Your wife will be getting a remembrance of you in the mail in just a few days.” His smile creeps onto his face and I’m so fucking pissed, I’m shaking.
“You’re not killing anyone today, Zeke,” I growl, slowly walking towards him. Red whimpers at me, but I don’t hold back. I’m not going to stand here while this man takes everything I hold dear in this world and blows it to shreds.
He grins, then moves to aim the gun directly over my heart and cocks it. I close my eyes and visions of my kids flash through my mind. The day we brought Angel home from the hospital and how fucking scared I was. The day Dax was born and how hard I cried when I got to hold my baby boy for the first time. All the ‘firsts’ in Red and I’s life together flash through my memory, and when I open my eyes, I’m met with the rage-filled eyes of Zeke Diaz.
“You’ll never win, Zeke,” I growl, hearing the crunch of gravel behind me. I notice Zeke’s eyes flash around, probably landing on one of the five men we had watching this parking lot waiting for our call, come out of hiding. “They all have guns. They’re all trained to kill. Do you really want to mess with them?” I smirk, feeling a little less helpless but still at the mercy of men I don’t really know.
“You think a few boys with rifles can scare me?!” he scoffs, pushing the gun harder against my chest. I lock eyes with Red and whisper to her.
“I love you, baby.”
She whimpers softly then shakes her head.
‘No,” she growls.
That’s when I hear the gunshot. It all happens so fast. The bullet from Zeke’s gun just grazes my ear as Red plows out of his grasp. She falls into my arms, her scent enveloping me as her tiny frame molds into me.
That’s when I hear the second gunshot.
My eyes flash up just in time to see Zeke go down in one fluid motion.
“Fuck you,” Tatum growls, walking over to us, kicking a moaning Zeke. He grabs his phone and dials the van to come get him.
We have plans for this mother fucker.
“He gonna live?” I mutter, not letting go of Red.
“Meh. Maybe. If not then good fucking riddance.”
Right. Good fucking riddance… but that’s just too easy of a way to die.
“I gotta get her back to the car, man.” I look down at Red. She’s still completely nude and shivering even in this heat and I know I need to get her out of here.
As we walk back to the van, the only thing on my mind is getting my girl home.
Safe.
I let her slide into the back seat, grabbing the gun I left behind and shoving it in the waist of my pants. I need to clear
a few things with Tatum before taking the car back to the house.
When I turn to walk back to him my stomach drops. Tatum’s standing next to one of the men at the building, completely unaware that Zeke’s stirring on the ground.
He’s fucking trying to get up!
“Tatum!” I bellow, but it’s too late.
Zeke, even in his state, has sat up enough to aim at the one man I call a brother.
“Tatum no!” I hear Gwyn shriek from the car. She stands to run after him but one of our men stops her. Fuck! Get back in the car!
I make a run for Diaz and Tatum turns towards us as soon as the gunshot goes off. I hear Gwynn screaming from behind me but the only thing I can think of right now is putting a fucking bullet in Diaz’s brain.
“Mother fucker!” I bellow, watching Tatum fall, his eyes locked on mine.
No! Fuck!
I should have known not to be so stupid. Who the fuck didn’t take the gun from him when he fell?!
“Fuck you!” I bellow, pulling the gun from my waistband while running full speed at Zeke. He’s unsuspecting and half out of it from the amount of blood he’s lost, so when my boot connects with his side he isn’t ready for the impact and wails in pain, dropping back to the ground. “Nobody fucking messes with my family,” I growl, stepping directly on top of his gunshot wound and enjoying the look of pure agony. Aiming the gun, it takes one clean shot to the forehead to put him completely out.
I wanted to make him suffer… but that was before he probably killed my best friend… my brother.
Gwynn
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
The noises in this room bring me from a deep sleep I’ve needed for weeks. It smells in here and my eyes won’t adjust to the light, but anywhere is better than the hell I’ve been living in for the last month. I try to move, but the clothes I’ve been given to wear are three sizes too big and have wrapped me into a tangled mess. Struggling, starting to freak that maybe I’m not really out of the hell and now I’m tied up in a bed with some freak, I try to wriggle out of the tangle of clothes.
