by Bella Jewel
I glance at him. “I’m not Yolanda, so I couldn’t tell you. You’d need to ask her.”
The man moves quickly, grabbing me around the throat and raising me off the floor. Everything starts blurring, and for a moment, I can’t think, I can’t feel, I can’t breathe, all I can do is squirm what little of my body I have use of and try and gasp for breaths as he holds me there like I’m a doll he could crush in an instant. My vision starts blurring, and little by little, my body goes strangely numb as it is starved of oxygen.
Just when I think I’m about to pass out, he drops me with a thud to the floor. I gasp over and over, and my lungs burn, my throat is like fire, and my head spins. I struggle to keep myself from going down, even though I’m breathing again. I have to blink and pray that I don’t pass out, because god knows what they’d do to me if I passed out right now.
“I won’t ask you again. Where the fuck is my money?”
“I don’t have it,” I wheeze. “It was jewelry, but it got stolen.”
A hard kick to my ribs sends me flying backward with a scream. Pain, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, radiates through my body. The breathing that I was only just getting back becomes short and painful again as my ribs feel like they’re constricting everything. I think he just broke some. The pain ripping through my body is out of this world. My screams are choked and weak.
They’re going to kill me.
“I know where it is,” I try, because maybe, just maybe, they’ll be stupid enough to let me go to give me another chance, or they’ll take me to the jewelry which will be right to a biker club.
“How fuckin’ stupid do you think we are?” he hisses.
“I’m serious, I know who took it. I stole it, and I know who has it. I can get it back again and you’ll have your money.”
They don’t believe I’m not Yolanda, so I’ll play along. For now.
“We don’t give second fuckin’ chances, you had the chance to get the money, and you didn’t deliver.”
“Please,” I croak. “I can get your money and more. Plenty more.”
The man studies me, and I hold his eyes, even though I feel like I’m going to pass out. I don’t back down; I stare at him, and pray, just pray he considers believing me, because if he doesn’t, I’m dead here and now.
Nobody will find me.
It’ll be too late.
“How much more?” he growls.
“Over a hundred thousand.”
That isn’t a lie. Mason’s jewelry would be worth that, if it was all sold together.
The man stares at me then turns to his other men. “I’ll sit on it. I’m not sure I believe her yet, and even if I do, I still haven’t decided if I won’t just kill her to show people there is no fucking with me.”
A dark-haired man nods. “Word is already out, boss, that you got stood up. It’s a ballsy move. People find out you let her live, they’re goin’ to start testing the waters.”
“Valid point. Let’s go discuss.”
God.
No.
Don’t discuss. Let me go.
Please.
The blond man turns around and then lashes out again with his booted foot, hitting me in the same spot and sending me tumbling backward with another agonized scream.
By the time I manage to get myself up off the floor and stop screaming and crying, they’re gone.
And I’m alone.
And scared.
I’m so scared.
~*~*~*~
MASON
“Enzo,” I growl. “Enzo is the one who will know where she is.”
“Yolanda ain’t speakin’,” Maverick mutters. “Bitch thinks it’s funny they’ve got her sister. Not cut from the same cloth those two, don’t care how much they look alike. That is one heartless bitch.”
“Too fuckin’ right,” Koda agrees. “Could easily do away with her.”
Charlie steps closer, grabbing his arm. “Down, tiger.”
He looks to her, eyes lusty. I snort and get back to the task at hand—finding Saskia and killing any motherfucker that dared to touch her.
“I think Enzo is the best choice, too,” Scarlett says. “He’ll know who he owes money to; it’ll be the quickest way to get to her.”
“Might be hard to get into the prison,” Chantelle says.
She refused to leave after she found out Saskia was gone. She wasn’t going to sleep another wink until her friend is found.
Gotta admire that.
She cares a fuck load about her.
“Yeah, might be, but you could go in,” I say, staring at Chantelle. “He’ll see you.”
She nods. “Oh, I’ll go in all right, and I’ll ring his scrawny neck.”
Boston grins at her, and if I wasn’t fucking mistaken, I’d say it was a grin of lust and admiration.
They’re fucking. No doubt.
But, right now, I couldn’t give a fuck about them.
I just want to find Saskia.
“It’s a plan,” I say, “I’ll come with you, see if I can get in. I want to talk to him, too.”
Chantelle nods and stands. “Then let’s go. I don’t want Saskia out there a second longer than she has to be.”
“We’ll keep pressin’ Yolanda,” Koda says, rubbing his hands together and grinning when Charlie thumps him on the arm.
“Remember, she’s still a girl,” she warns him, giving him a stern look.
“Don’t care what she is. She had the nerve to take on everyone when she took on Saskia and tried to turn us against her, so she can suffer in whatever way I decide.”
“If you all gave Saskia a chance to talk, we wouldn’t even be standing here right now,” Chantelle mutters. “But, we can’t change it, as much as I’d like to for her sake.”
She’s right. Even though her words piss me off, she is completely right.
But right now, I don’t need that reminder.
“We hear you,” Maverick murmurs. “We know we fucked up, yeah? Don’t need reminding.”
Chantelle stares at him; she has a fire in her belly that matches Saskia’s. It’s not a wonder they’re friends.
“I’m going to remind you, like it or not. Because it is your fault that girl is out there, because ya'll didn’t give her a chance to even defend herself or tell you Yolanda existed. You cuffed her and gagged her and made up your minds, just like that. She had no chance.”
“Enough now,” I growl. “Don’t have time for petty fuckin’ arguin’. Let’s go.”
Chantelle nods and walks out of the club house.
“Good luck with that one, brother,” Malakai smirks.
I grunt and follow her out.
Neither of us says much on the way to the prison, and when we arrive, we’re informed visiting hours start in half an hour. So, we sit uncomfortably as we wait, wondering what the hell is happening to Saskia right now. Is she being hurt? Are they tormenting her? Torturing her? The worst thought: Is she even alive?
I can’t even fucking think of that. The very thought makes my chest twist and my fists clench.
I’ll never, not fucking ever, get over it if something happens to her.
Never.
When the guards come out, we both stand and go through all the checks to get into the visiting room. Obviously, Enzo has no problem seeing us, because he’s allowing us both in. Good, because I have a fucking lot to say to that piece of crap, a fucking lot.
We arrive in the visitors’ room and take a seat. Five minutes later, the prisoners are brought in, and Enzo comes over, sitting down across from us, his eyes going to Chantelle.
“You scumbag,” she hisses before anything can come out of his mouth. “I know you’re a piece of shit, I’ve always hated you, but the fact that you could honestly let her get hurt on your watch makes me fucking sick!”
“What are you on about, Chantelle? Not in the fuckin’ mood for your big mouth.”
“You know exactly what I’m on about. Setting Saskia up to look like she stole from Mason
, when all along it was Yolanda getting jewelry for you, to sell and get those angry assholes off your back. It’s a genius plan, really it is.”
Enzo stares at her, and then his eyes move to me. “No idea what you’re talkin’ about. Haven’t seen Yolanda in weeks.”
I’m not actually sure if he’s lying or not, it’s hard to tell. His face is a stony mask, and he hasn’t broken eye contact even once.
Fuck.
He’s good.
“Bullshit,” Chantelle whisper yells. “She set it up, stole what she needed, but we found out and got hold of her before she could give them any cash, and now some asshole men have got Saskia because they think she’s Yolanda.”
Enzo flinches, just a little, and I know in that second he’s lying. He does know what Yolanda is doing, but he did not know that it didn’t go through. I’m guessing he thinks she made the deal and everything is good. He’s just finding out that it isn’t. Not even close.
“What?” he growls.
“Your stupid fucking girlfriend didn’t show up with their cash,” Chantelle goes on. “Because we caught her before she could, but they don’t know that. Now they have Saskia, doing god knows what to her as revenge to you for not delivering.”
Enzo’s fists clench.
“So, we need to know who the hell has her.”
Enzo stares at her for a moment then looks to me. “No idea what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Bullshit,” I growl, stepping in. “We all know you do fuckin’ know what we’re talkin’ about. Quit actin’ fuckin’ stupid. You’ve done enough to that girl, the least you could do is help us find her so she doesn’t end up dead because of you and that bitch of a sister you picked over her, which by the way, your taste is absolutely trash. Yolanda is nothing on Saskia, fuckin’ nothin’.”
Enzo’s face gets red, and he growls, “What the fuck would you know, biker?”
“I know, because I’ve had my cock buried in her sweet pussy more than once. She’s mine now, and I’ll kill any motherfucker who tries to get in my way, including you.”
Enzo jerks, and for a second, he looks like he’s going to bust a top and lose his shit in the middle of the visiting room, but after a glance at the guards, he settles down and snarls, “Don’t fuckin’ know where she is.”
“Listen here.” Chantelle leans over the table a little. “If you ever, even for a second, cared about that girl somewhere in that no good, emotionless heart of yours, then you’ll tell us where she is. She doesn’t deserve any of this. And you know it.”
“I. Don’t. Know. What. You’re. Talking. About.”
Chantelle looks to me, and then she looks back at Enzo. “I’ll give them the money you owe them if you tell me where she is.”
Enzo studies her. “You’re tellin’ me what I want to hear to get the information that you want, not goin’ to work.”
“I have it. I’ll give it to someone you trust, if you don’t trust me. You know how much she means to me, Enzo. Just because you’re a piece of shit doesn’t mean the rest of us are. I’d lay my life on the line for that girl, and you know it.”
“You’re not givin’ him a fuckin’ cent,” I growl.
Chantelle looks to me. “While I appreciate you being here, this is between me and Enzo. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her back, and if you fuckers had taken care of her in the first place, we wouldn’t be here.”
“Be very fuckin’ careful,” I warn.
“Or what? You’ll get me in the shit too? I have the cash; if that’s what they want, that’s what I’ll give to them. Saskia is my best friend, do you understand, my best friend in the whole wide world. That might not mean much to you, but it’s everything to me now.” She looks back to Enzo. “I will pay to get her out. It’s up to you if you trust me or not.”
The two of them lock eyes for what seems like forever, and then he finally mutters, “Give you twelve hours to get the cash to my guy, if I find out you don’t, I will come after you, Chantelle. I know everything about you, and I will make you wish you were never fuckin’ born.”
She stares at him, then nods. “Fair deal. Give me the details of your guy, and I’ll have the cash delivered. Now, where in the hell is Saskia?”
The stupid fuck gives us the details of the men chasing him for cash, and then the details of who he wants the cash delivered to.
When we step out the door of the prison, I fall in step beside Chantelle. “You’re not givin’ him the cash, are you?”
“Oh, hell no,” she says, flicking her hair. “Enzo doesn’t scare me. He’s stupid. I knew he was stupid. It worked. You getting angry at me made it even better because he believed I was serious. Now, let’s go get my girl back. We’ll deal with him later.”
Yeah.
I think I fucking like Saskia’s best friend, too.
~25~
SASKIA
Everything hurts.
I don’t say that lightly.
It’s been one day, which, in the scheme of things isn’t a long time at all, but to me, it feels like an eternity. One whole day of sitting down here, chained up, in agony, unable to stop the pain and wondering when the next blow is going to come. No food. No water. I’m tired, but there is no way I’d dare shut my eyes. The moment I do, I’m scared of what will happen. So, I sit here, trying to think away the pain, and praying someone finds me soon.
They have to know by now.
They have to.
Chantelle would have figured it out, and she would have gone to them, right?
She’d be smart enough to do that, wouldn’t she? God, I pray that she would, but I couldn’t blame her if she didn’t. I mean, I did sit there and tell her I never wanted to see Mason or that club again. But surely, in times like this, she would think they’re the only people who might know where I am.
Maybe she went to Enzo.
I hope not, because that would get me in more trouble if he decided to cause a scene.
I wonder if the club still has Yolanda, and I wonder what they’re doing to her.
Whatever it is, I hope it hurts.
I hate to say that about my own sister, but the fact of it all is, she doesn’t care about me, not even a little. We might be two halves of one egg, but we’re nothing alike. She’s missing something. Maybe I got the emotional part of the egg, the one that cares and is kind to others, and she got the empty shell, the emotionless pit, the broken part. Because why else could someone be so cruel to someone? Especially when that someone is family.
Her twin sister.
I might dislike her, but I would have never gone out of my way to hurt her or get her into trouble.
Not ever.
My heart aches. It aches because outside of Chantelle, I suddenly feel like there isn’t a single person out there who truly cares for me anymore, and that’s an empty, rather lonely feeling.
I’m here, chained up, hurt, and so incredibly alone.
So, so alone.
That hurts the most.
The door opens, and I jerk my head up, my heart racing, my body going on instant alert. Blondie walks in, alone this time. He stares at me on the ground and narrows his eyes. “Your little boyfriend has said he’ll have the cash, and more, to me in twelve hours, so I’m going to keep you alive until then. Usually, I wouldn’t allow this, but I need the cash so he gets to stay alive, and you, for twelve hours more. When I get what’s owed to me, I’m going to put a bullet in his skull when he’s let out of prison, but he doesn’t know that, and you’re never going to get the chance to tell him, because once the cash is in my hands, a bullet is going into your brain, too.”
I didn’t know what I’d expect the day I was told I’m going to die.
You hear it in the movies—people have cancer, or an illness, and they get told that heart wrenching news—but I never thought I would hear the words.
Never.
Not me.
But that’s always the way, isn’t it? You never think it’s going to be something you hear.
It’s always something you think will never happen to you.
But it is happening to me. Twelve hours. I even got a time frame.
I’d like to go into denial and think it isn’t going to happen to me, that someone will rush in and save the day, but the fact of the matter is that twelve hours is not long, not really, and if they don’t find me in time. I know, I can one hundred percent guarantee, that I’ll die at the end of it.
These kinds of men, they don’t mess around. You’re crazy if you think they do.
I swallow the thick lump in my throat and try not to show any sort of fear or reaction, but I’m certain he can see it on my face.
“I might even enjoy you a little bit, first,” he murmurs, running his eyes up and down my body. “Really send a message.”
Vomit rises up in my throat. That thought probably scares me more than dying. Dying is quick, it’s over when it’s over and that’s the end. But torture like that when you have no control, when you can’t stop it, that’s terrifying. Having someone take control of my body and me being unable to stop them makes me physically ill.
And more scared than I’ve ever been in my life.
What if nobody finds me in time?
That reality is harsh and scarily the more likely scenario. Even if they have been made aware that I’m gone, I could be anywhere, anywhere at all, and they wouldn’t find me. Or, if they did find me, it could take them days. Even if they got a name, they’d still have to track these men down. I know how this all works, and it isn’t a process that comes quickly or easily.
My fingers are trembling, and even though they’re completely numb, I can feel it to my very core.
I’m so afraid.
And I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do about it.
I’ve always been a fighter, but how do you fight when you’re given such a short amount of time to do so?
“Scared, little girl?” Blondie laughs. “You should be. I won’t make it quick, I’ll make sure everyone knows never to mess with me. Should have thought twice before involving yourself with a piece of crap like that.”
He’s right.
I certainly should have.
But that’s neither here nor there.