King's Ransom: South Side Sinners MC

by BT Urruela

  “You fucks are sick,” Dimitri said, fixing his tie. His eyes narrowed. He wondered how Rodriguez had managed to grab a security pass so fast, or if it was something he had been holding on to for a while. “That’s pretty fucking convenient he was able to grab one so quickly,” he muttered under his breath, as he clipped the pass to his lapel.

  “Wasn’t it?” Robbie said, a knowing look on his face, and a nefarious smile spread wide.

  Robbie, Dimitri, Knuckles, and Jacoby, fully dressed then, hopped out of the van before it took off and they walked up to the side of the building. They flashed their fake credentials to a police officer at the back entrance, and made it through with ease, despite Dimitri’s reservations and spiking nerves. The plan was to gain access backstage during the performance and then when the show was over, they would act as her security detail. At exactly nine forty-five, the fire would be started, the officers would be required to evacuate the theater quickly, and in the ensuing chaos, the Sinners would usher their charge safely to the waiting van out back.

  Robbie seemed to have an uncanny knowledge of the layout of the theater. Dimitri couldn’t shake the feeling something was off. Still, he followed the senior member through the crowded dark hall to their post. His loyalty was to the club, first and foremost, no matter what he thought of Robbie’s abilities as Sergeant-at-Arms. He had faith in Preach as president, even if he didn’t agree with the objective.

  They took their positions and waited. Classical music filtered through the heavy curtains. There was something terribly familiar about the melody, but he couldn’t place it. He just stayed in the shadows, careful not to make eye contact with anyone. The song finished to wild applause from the audience and a group of dancers left the stage, brushing past them and opening the heavy curtain just enough for him to see the stage.

  A new song began and the single spotlight caught his eye. Surrounded by its unrelenting beam was the single most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. She danced with such precision and grace that he fell into a trance watching her. Every note, every swell of the music came alive in her. Suddenly, he knew where he had heard the music before. Countless nights as a boy, he would awaken to the sound of the old VHS playing after his father had passed out from burying his sorrow at the bottom of a bottle. He had specially made the tape to play Natasha’s routine from the 1980 Olympics on a loop, over and over and over again, and along with the faint sound of his father’s snoring, the melody would play as little Dimitri curled up in a ball on the floor and watched her skate.

  Dance of the Wilis, Apparition De Myrthe.

  The music changed tempo and he watched breathlessly as she twirled through the night. Other dancers joined her and left but still, she remained. Her movements were more of a fluid being or light than that of a mere human. She was talented like his mother. Was this what his father saw when he stood by the rink and watched her for hours on end? Before he knew what was happening, a male dancer joined her and the music picked up speed. He had no idea how much time had passed but he was suddenly aware they were nearing the end of the show. Backstage bustle picked up and he could hear anxious whispers about the final number.

  Dimitri glanced over at Knuckles who was half-asleep, drool forming in the corner of his mouth, and then he noticed Robbie staring intently at the stage. It was starting to become very clear what the hell they were actually doing there. Robbie’s eyes blazed wild like a jaguar about to take its prey. There was no admiration there, only a malevolent fucking hunger. Dimitri turned back to the stage in time to see her partner lifting her over his head. Involuntarily, Dimitri’s breath caught in his chest as he watched the man launch her spiraling into the darkness. Seconds that felt like hours passed before she touched down safely with him at her side. When the curtain fell, the crowd erupted in applause.

  Though he knew nothing of ballet, and honestly didn’t ever give a fuck about it before, he knew he was witnessing something truly beautiful with the performance she had given. Something unique. Everyone backstage was rushing around like rats on crack as the dancers joined together on stage to bow for the audience.

  “Look alive, dip shits!” Robbie commanded, and sucker punched Knuckles’ shoulder, waking him up. Knuckles jerked awake, and Robbie said, “Show’s over. It’s go time, dumbass.”

  “Fuck, that was like Sunday fuckin’ mass.” Knuckles snorted.

  “When the hell have you ever been to church?” Dimitri said, chuckling.

  Robbie’s eyes darted toward Dimitri, and he glared at him when he grumbled, “Get ready. Here they come.”

  Annalise’s heart was full beyond measure. The performance had gone perfectly. Every step, every move flowed with the music, just as she had dreamed. She had poured her heart and soul into each note. She stood, chest heaving, arm in arm with her fellow dancers as they took their final bows. This was how she wanted to be remembered. It was time. She felt like she was walking on air as she followed her dance family from the stage.

  In the wings, security was everywhere. She knew that meant her parents were here and time was short. They would want pictures. They would be hungry. Their friends were waiting. The whole world was waiting, but they were about to get the surprise of their lives. She hugged friends and colleagues when they congratulated her as she passed.

  Madame Petrov stopped her. “This performance,” the older woman began, her voice breaking, “was once in a lifetime.” She hugged Annalise tightly.

  “Thank you for everything,” Annalise responded, hugging her back. It was the only way she knew to say goodbye. Annalise swallowed hard and pulled away, heading on to her dressing room. Her mind was made up. She watched piles of pink and white ballerinas scampering about, celebrating. Their joy was sickeningly palpable, it was almost contagious. But Annalise knew better. The darkness was always waiting for her. No celebration, no night out, could erase the demons that stood in the shadows, ready to remind her who she really was. Annalise’s hands trembled as she opened the door. She had barely noticed the security detail that followed her from the stage and parked themselves outside her door.

  Once safely inside, the demons could finally come out to play. She removed her costume and put on the white silk robe she had laid out for tonight. A flood of emotions wrecked her aching soul as she unlocked the cupboard and took out the hoarded pills and bottle of wine. The small tray was all laid out with groups of pills arranged by color. She tried to open the wine, but the cork got stuck. Fuck. Seriously. She cursed under her breath and used the corkscrew to gouge out enough so she could pour some into a green paper cup.

  For a moment, she paused and looked around her dressing room. This was everything she had dreamed of achieving, so why did it feel so empty? The world was so fucking heavy. She pictured a little girl she had seen in the park, playing with her parents. She was clearly the center of their universe. Annalise knew she was an adult now; she should be able to just leave everything behind her and live her life. Still, all she had ever wanted was to be loved like that little girl. Happy and safe in a world that was full of light and possibility.

  She looked at the tray. That kind of hope was dangerous and damning. Tears streamed down her face and she looked in the mirror. Hopes and dreams that would never be flowed with the mascara and dripped onto the white fabric. She grieved painfully for a life she could only dream of. Why was this her life? What the fuck had she ever done to deserve this. Before she could even feel sorry for herself, the demons crept out from under the bed and reminded her just how ugly and dark she was on the inside. Annalise choked back a sob. This day had been coming for a long time.

  She was tired of being who they wanted her to be. Life had become an invisible prison from which she could never escape. Annalise looked back in the mirror and saw her nine-year-old self. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore. You don’t have to do this anymore. It’s okay to be tired. It’s okay not to hold on.”

  So fucking tired. There would be no note. The secrets and lies, she would
take with her to hell. Annalise knew time was running out, so she grabbed the first handful of pills and swallowed them down with the bitter wine. At first, she sputtered and almost choked but forced them down. She caught her breath and took a few more good swigs to make sure they went all the way down. Her mind raced like a Ferrari down a lonely country road, winding in a blur through curves, reckless, and all at once, the tires left the road. She palmed another handful of pills and swallowed them effortlessly this time.

  The numbness filled her soul. Was this why her mother always retreated to her fucking skittles? Congratulations, Mother, the apple doesn’t fall very far from the tree. Annalise removed the bobby pins that held her hair in a bun, and dark waves of hair crashed down onto her shoulders. She reached for a third handful and brought it clumsily to her lips. One of the light blue ones slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. Before she could register what happened, the lights began to flash, and a siren blared a deafening tone.

  Annalise couldn’t figure out what was happening but somehow, she felt comfort in the panic. She forced the remaining pills in her hand into her mouth. The bitter taste burned her lips and tongue. Her door sounded like it was going to explode. Was someone knocking? What the hell? She shook her spinning head and grabbed for the bottle of wine, but it slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor, just as the door came flying open.

  Ten

  Robbie hustled into the dressing room first, the others quickly following behind him. Jacoby closed the door quietly, as to not alert anyone, when several gasps filled the room.

  Dimitri choked out, “Oh, shit.”

  Her body was splayed out on the floor, her exquisite breast peeking out from the silk robe. Foam built around her lips and a little had collected on the floor beside her open, gasping mouth.

  Knuckles kneeled down beside her, slipping the pistol back into his side holster. “What the fuck is this?” he muttered, setting two fingers to her throat.

  Her eyes opened to slits and she mumbled something inaudible, before they closed again, fluttering. The foamed saliva came once more, and Knuckles snapped his fingers at the men behind him.

  “Get me a pen,” he said, and Dimitri quickly grabbed a pen from the vanity.

  He passed it down to his friend, and Knuckles slipped it between her lips, working it to the back of her throat.

  She retched, and a mess of bile and half-dissolved pill capsules chased the pen out of her mouth and puddled on the carpeted floor.

  Knuckles stood and turned away, dry heaving himself, which made Robbie cackle.

  “Funny how a man can torture another with no problem, but a little vomit and he becomes a woman,” Robbie chided, kneeling down to get a closer look at her. His eyes zoned in on her exposed nipple, and he licked his lips.

  The look on Robbie’s face as he eyed her body made Dimitri uncomfortable, and his skin crawl, so he reached down and pulled the robe over her breast, covering her, much to Robbie’s dismay.

  “Pussy,” Robbie said.

  Dimitri stood straight and paid Robbie no mind.

  “Keep talking shit, Robbie”—Knuckles sucked in a breath, then continued—“and you’ll be the one I torture next.”

  “Empty threats,” Robbie muttered.

  Jacoby investigated the room and eventually rolled over a laundry cart from a dark corner. The others took a look inside and found costumes, robes, and a few dirty towels. “We’ll just have to put her in here,” he said. “Cover her up, roll her out, and hope to hell nobody asks any questions.”

  “Do we still have Narcan at Archie’s from Bronson’s last OD?” Dimitri asked.

  Robbie chuckled, and nodded. “You guys got the gas?” he asked the three of them.

  Jacoby nodded his head and pulled a few vials from his pocket the size of glow sticks, and Knuckles and Dimitri did the same. They flipped the caps on them and doused everything they could.

  After they loaded her into the cart, Dimitri and Knuckles covered her completely with the costumes and towels, and pushed the cart to the door where Jacoby stood. Robbie pulled a matchbook from his pocket. In quick succession, Jacoby opened the door, Knuckles and Dimitri pushed the cart through the doorway, and Robbie lit the first match and caught the rest of the pack on fire. He took one last look at the room with a grin, then he tossed the lit matchbook onto the carpet, and the flames quickly engulfed the room as they hurried away.

  The second-floor windows of the western annex exploded glass down onto the street below as flames lapped the bricks. Shrieks and cries erupted from the gathered crowd. Police and firemen tried to contain the scene, evacuating everyone from the building and keeping the crowd at a safe distance.

  “That’s her floor!” Victoria Hale screamed and melted into her husband. “Where is she?”

  “They’ll be out with her any minute. The firemen are working as fast as they can, getting everyone out.” Ronald held his wife but knew those windows belonged to Annalise. The performance had gone perfectly. He had been in the middle of giving a statement to Alexandra Mathers from the local station when the fire alarms had gone off. Immediately, the sprinklers had engaged and everyone in the main theater had been evacuated onto the street. It was only then they saw the smoke billowing from the second-floor annex. “Everyone’s going to make it out,” he assured his wife, but somehow, he knew she wasn’t coming.

  Her sequined gown trailed behind her through the mud and puddles created by the fire hoses as Victoria desperately begged each person who came sputtering through the barricade. “Have you seen Annalise? Was she with you? Do you know where she is?” The answer was always the same. No. Sorry.

  “You have to find her!” Ronald had the fire chief by the jacket collar. “Do you know who I am?” Panic swelled inside. It was too fucking coincidental. The Sinners threat rang in his ears, pounding, drowning out the sirens that surrounded him. “I am Senator Ronald Hale. That’s my daughter in there!”

  His voice cracked and his trembling hands let the man’s coat go. He stagger-stepped back and turned sharply as another cloud of smoke and fire came through her window.

  Victoria was soaked, heels forgotten, sequins laying in a trail back and forth between the barricades and ambulances. Her blonde hair was covered in smoke and ash, mascara dripping from her pale skin.

  “That’s everyone we can find,” the chief announced. “We’ve cleared all the rooms, except dressing room thirty-one. If anyone was in there, it’s too late. I’m sorry.”

  Victoria shook all over. She looked from the chief to Ronald and back up at the burning building. The last of the dancers was being carried to a stretcher. Victoria ran, pushing people out of her way. “Where were you? Did you see Annalise? Please!”

  Police and security grabbed the flailing woman before she could topple the cot.

  “Mrs. Hale, I’m sorry,” the small dancer with blonde hair cried, tears running down her soot-stained cheeks. “The last time I saw her”—she choked back a sob—“she was going into her dressing room.”

  The paramedics started moving and took her to the waiting bus. Victoria was left standing.

  Everyone was out. Everyone but Annalise. Victoria collapsed and the sound that escaped her lips was one that every emergency worker hated to hear. The same soul-shattering, guttural cry a mother made when she brought her child into this world was the same one they made when that child was gone. The media descended on them, like sharks to a frenzy. Ronald Hale stood, facing cameras and reporters shouting questions and speculation. Before he could say a word, his security detail swooped in and escorted them to a waiting car.

  “The recovery effort will take several days,” Fire Chief Alexander told him quietly, once Victoria was sedated in the car. He cleared his throat, mustering the strength to continue, “Body … body recovery can sometimes take days. Then there’s the process of identification, dental records, that sort of thing. Sir … I’m so sorry. I promise you, we will find out what happened.”

  Ronald Ha
le just nodded, his face as numb as his mind. Gone. She is gone.

  Eleven

  Pain seared through Annalise’s head and coursed down her entire body. Is this hell? She struggled to open her eyes. She tried to clear her throat, but it burned like hot acid had been poured through her lips. This is hell. She groaned as a wave of nausea wracked her body, as if she had been vomiting for hours. So far, the afterlife sucked.

  “Hey. Are you okay?”

  Who the hell is that? The voice was filled with concern, but it wasn’t one Annalise recognized. Shit. Had she been discovered? Is that the EMTs? Please, God, do not let me be in the hospital. I will take hell.

  Let this be hell.

  The voice was talking again but Annalise couldn’t make out what was being said. She forced her eyes open. The light ravaged her senses and sent her headache over the top. Fuck. She tried to make out where the hell she was. This was definitely not a hospital. She was curled up on a hard, decrepit cot, in … a … Annalise strained to make sure she was seeing what she thought she was. It’s a cage.

  A fucking cage! Jesus!

  “Well, shit … you had me worried there for a bit.” The man studied her. He moved the ski mask around on his head, as though the heat of the basement made his scalp itch from the wool.

  “Who are you? Am I in purgatory? What the fuck is going on here?” Annalise pleaded with the stranger who stood on the other side of the bars. She was not a religious girl despite her hypocritical parents’ best wishes, but her roommate at Juilliard had been Catholic and Annalise was very familiar with her friend’s fear of purgatory.

  He scanned the thick metal bars, grinning at her purgatory comment. “No, not purgatory. And not the hospital. I don’t know if you were all the way with it yet, but you kept calling me nurse.” He cleared his throat and wiped the grin from his face, pausing, his eyes meeting hers.