by T Steele
The thought sends bile up my throat and I dry heave onto the floor.
Pain lances up my arm from not being used to the recoil, and my hand and wrist are stiff.
I insert my fingers inside the tiny crease of the elevator door after punching at the button that should have opened it. I didn’t think it would work, but I thought I’d at least try. I grunt in pain as the nails from my fingers start to peel back from the force of my movements. My muscles strain and quiver and I eventually realize I’m stuck. I’m not going to get these doors open.
My head whips back around behind me at the sound of the mafia men’s shared laughs and a shriek escapes through my lips. They’re trying to make their way up to me. The cold glass of the elevator slams into my back as I thump against it. My feet slide on the tiled floor trying to propel myself back as far as I can go. My desperation doesn’t allow me to understand logic. Doesn’t allow me to understand that I literally am cornered and cannot back up anymore.
A few of my fingers are bleeding from my nails almost coming clean off and I want to kick myself for getting on this elevator. Thoughts and scenarios and “what if’s” pop into my head, causing me to wonder if there could have been a better way. My fear has completely blinded me and clouded my brain. Everything feels foggy and my head finally falls in my hands as I sob in defeat.
It’s an awful burning feeling in the pit of my stomach. The horror and desperation.
I don’t allow myself to freeze, though, like I normally would. I cock the gun and scoot closer to the edge, trying to be careful of the broken glass shattered on the floor. When I look over, I point my gun at the closest man. My eyes are blurry from tears, but I shoot anyway. He jumps out of the way just in time and I scramble back again quickly and hear more laughter. There’s screeching noises against the floor and grunts, and I know their coming for me. I’m racking my brain for a way to escape and I see some of the glass glinting in the light. I pick it up and wedge it between the elevator doors. I keep pushing and try to use it as a lever. The door opens a small bit only to collide back together.
A sob rips out of my throat and my tears now mix with sweat streaming down my face. I insert both hands into the crack of the elevator door once more and use my foot on the other side. I pull with all my strength, and the doors start to gradually come apart, and then there’s a noise behind me. I whip around, losing momentum and see a man being hoisted up into the elevator with me. He’s sweating from his effort and his eyes are dark with murderous fury, but his lips are set in a smirk.
I fumble, grabbing for the gun and move to shoot. The man ducks, his arm coming up to shield him, but after I pull the trigger, the gun only makes a clicking sound indicating there are no more bullets. The sound that is much quieter than that of an actual gunshot seems louder in it’s finality. I keep pulling anyway. Nothing happens, but my panic has overridden any logical thought. The man laughs before cocking his arm back and striking me right in the face—causing everything to turn black.
Chapter Fourteen
John
I’d already had a bad fucking feeling at the beginning of the night. And then, when Malcolm got the call, I knew it was something terrible.
The panic in the big, bulky man’s eyes pulled at my long dead heart strings, making it come alive with fear instead of my usual rage. Ruby’s beautiful face was the first image to pop into my mind. As if it wasn’t already there. Branded into my fucking skull. The girl is a sorcerer and I’m under her spell. I would follow that woman anywhere. I would sell my soul for just a brush of her lips against mine.
Everything whirs by me in a blur as I run to Malcolm’s side. “Is Ruby okay?”
“I just got an SOS call from Ryder. We’ve gotta go now.”
I’m already running toward the exit before his last word is spoken. My feet pound on the concrete as I make my way around the casino with the echo of Malcolm’s footfalls behind me.
Fuck. Fuck Fuck! My mind is like an internet browser with of all the millions of things that could possibly be happening to Ruby right now. My fucking goddess, Ruby.
Rage boils in my veins, burning into my stomach. If anyone fucking lays one finger on her . . .
I reach my car and shove myself inside and start the ignition. The tires squeal as I peel out of the parking space and I punch my foot on the gas until it reaches the floorboard. I’m white knuckling it as my eyes fly back and forth from the road to the neon clock on the dash.
I feel like I’ve lost so much time already. Time Ruby may not have. I growl to myself in frustration, in fear, in helplessness. Willing the car to go faster.
God, why did I leave her?
After what feels like hours of driving, I pull into the driveway, and all logic flees my brain when I see the shattered glass littered on the ground from the broken window. I barely remember to put my car in park before bolting through the already open door and step inside the house. Usually, I would enter as quiet as death. Observe the situation. Check all exits and surroundings, but common sense is nothing but a squashed bug at the bottom of my boot. Especially when it comes to Ruby.
I have my guns out, one in each hand, and the weight of my knives in my pants is a comfort as I enter the kitchen.
First, I see Ryder lying in a puddle of blood. Then, I see Eli slumped over on the table with a bullet hole in his head. My chest burns because I know he’s dead, and my eyes fly around the room, looking for anyone else. The panic I feel is like a living thing when Ruby is nowhere in sight.
I run to Ryder and bend down, putting my fingers to his neck. There's a pulse, and I start shaking him. He groans and I notice a bullet wound on his arm. I don’t care. Nothing matters right now, except Ruby.
“Where’s Ruby?” My voice doesn’t sound like myself. It’s almost inhumane in it’s brutality.
I hear running footsteps and swing around, guns raised only to find Malcolm and several of our men entering the kitchen.
I’m on my feet and in front of him within seconds. My hands are around his neck and his eyes widen before stark fury enters them. I slam him into the nearest wall, my hands never leaving his throat. “You should’ve let me stay!” I snarl.
He throws a side punch to my ribs and I grunt, but the pain barely registers and I cock my arm back, punching him in the nose. Blood skirts from his flared nostrils, leaving stains on my hands.
“You selfish bastard,” I growl. “I could’ve stayed here and protected her!”
My anger is like a living thing, boiling over, and anyone who touches me in this moment will get burned.
“John,” Malcolm gasps out from bloody lips. “Get your fucking hands off me before I have someone kill you.”
“You wouldn’t fucking dare. You know I’m your best bet at finding her.”
His eyes meet mine and in my haze of fury it’s hard for me to recognize the sadness and guilt in his gaze, but it’s there. I shove him one last time before striding back to Ryder who's now in a seated position, applying pressure to his bicep.
His eyes meet mine with regret. “I fucking tried everything I could to get her away safely.”
“Do you know if she’s alive?” I grit out, refraining from sticking my thumb inside his fucking bullet wound.
“Yes, she was, and they’re not going to kill her.”
“How do you know? Tell me everything that happened,” says Malcolm, who's come to stand beside me.
“They want ranson and our share of the deal with the Tycoons. The only reason they didn’t kill me was to give you this.”
He hands the paper to Malcolm and his guilt is palpable. “Boss, I would’ve died for her.”
Malcolm’s jaw clenches and I feel myself go dizzy with even more fear. They might not kill her . . . but what else will they do?
My thoughts have me grabbing the nearest lamp and hurling it at a wall. The shrill bang followed by glass shattering onto the floor doesn’t make me feel better. I turn to Malcolm to tell him I know how to get a lead, but he’s alrea
dy staring at me.
He intends to murder me. I know this and so does everyone else. He’s been suspicious since the earlier incident in the kitchen, but now it’s confirmed. That I’m fucking his daughter. Thinking of her in that way makes me grit my teeth. I’m not just fucking her. I fucking love her. Love was something I thought I’d never feel, and I don’t know if it’s something I’m capable of. I damn sure know that I don’t deserve it, but Ruby’s climbed into my soul and ripped my fucking heart out of my chest. The little black heart that was there, anyway. It’s gone. With her. Because she is my fucking heart.
“How long?” Malcolm asks and I don’t need to be a rocket scientist to know that he’s asking how long Ruby and I have been fucking, but I’m still so pissed. We’re wasting time.
“Does it fucking matter?” I grit out. “You know I’ll get her back.”
Now, Malcolm’s the one to cock his arm back and punch me in the face. There’s a crunching noise and warm blood drips down my face.
I could’ve held him back. Could’ve stopped the punch. Could’ve fucking killed him and everyone in this room if I wanted too. But I let him have it. He deserved to give me that much. If someone like me was with my daughter, a fucking goddess like Ruby, I’d punch them too.
I wipe my nose and apply pressure to it, trying to stop the blood flow. “I’ll get some words out of Trey. He’s a snitch.”
“How do you know?” Ryder slurs. He needs medical treatment before he loses more blood. He’s only shot in the arm, I think to myself with an inward eye roll, but then again none of us are invincible.
“Because I’ll fucking make him,” I say, feeling the monster inside me wake up, preparing for violence. They call it “the killing calm” and there’s never been a more apt description for what I’m feeling right now.
I storm out of the kitchen and into the hallway. I study the broken elevator and the way it’s set up because I want to feel her pain and what she’s been through. I want to fucking see the struggle because whatever it was, these fuckers were going to experience what she went through and then some. Ten fold. No, more like one hundred fold.
I take the stairs three steps at a time until I reach Malcolm’s study. Regardless of his loud footsteps, I would’ve already known he’d be following.
I start preparing, grabbing the best weapons for slaughter, arming myself. The weight of my bullet proof vest is comforting. My fingers reach for the safe in Malcolm’s study, twisting and turning the lock until it opens. Reaching inside, I grab the bomb that’s been waiting patiently for us. The bomb we keep prepared for dire situations such as the one we’re in.
Then I sit at his desk, ignoring the glower Malcolm shoots my way. I turn on his computer, and replay the footage from the security cameras surrounding the house and I watch. Watch as those Russian fuckers break into my home and take my Ruby from me.
I can’t see any of their faces because they were all wearing fucking masks. I know Ruby must have been terrified, and I have to force myself to stand from the chair calmly instead of throwing the computer against the wall in a fit of rage.
They’re all going to die tonight.
“Is your mind in the right place for this, John?” Malcolm grits out. “I don’t want your dick controlling your emotions.” His jaw works back and forth as he starts loading up weapons of his own.
“It’s not my fucking cock making the decisions right now,” I grit out with the same furious tone. “That woman is my fucking heart. If she’s not okay, then nobody else will be, either.”
Malcolm swallows hard and I go to turn away from him, then he grabs my arm yanking me to face him.
I growl, baring my teeth like a rabid animal. “If you were anyone else, you know I would’ve fucking slaughtered you by now for putting your hands on me.”
Malcolm doesn’t let go. “Don’t forget who raised you, boy.” His voice is gruff and soft. His ‘Boss’ voice. “Once you find her, bring her to me and then you better run as far away as possible. There’s a bullet in my Glock with your name on it.”
My laugh echoes loudly as I jerk my arm from his grip and walk out the door, turning my back on him.
If he thinks a bullet will keep me away from Ruby, he’s got another thing coming. Because once I find her—and I will find her—not even the devil himself could fucking take her from me again.
The fabric of my long collar brushes against my skin as I pull it over my mouth along with my hood, leaving only my eyes visible.
My feet are silent on the pavement as I get out of my car and make my way to the door of the rickety apartment building. All of the Russian’s drug dealers and users live here. The one I was going to see was a scrappy little man. Wasn’t good for much except making the best crystal meth this side of town. Or in Michigan really. He was a duplicate, if you will, of Jesse Pinkmen.
I slide my lock picking kit out of my pocket. Anyone walking by will know me either as a locksmith or the last person they see before they die.
I wedge my curtain pick in the slit of the door, and finagle the tumbler inside. The sound of the click is a short victory that I don’t bask in. The true victory won’t come until my Ruby is back in my arms and safe.
Thankfully, these dilapidated apartments were flimsy enough that I could likely flick the door with my finger and it would open easily. But I can’t make any mistakes right now. Ruby is counting on me. Knowing that she’s alive is the only driving force keeping me calm and moving forward with the next step of the plan.
People don’t look up as I pass, too busy counting cash and or fiending for more drugs.
Anticipation floods through my body and the familiar killing calm glosses over me like a security blanket.
I’m numb, yet aware of everything as I take powerful strides up the stairs and to a door with the number 20 on it. Reaching for my lock picking kit again, I fiddle with the knob until I hear a click, and then my time to be silent is over as I kick the door open with a loud bang.
My Glocks rest in both hands like they belong there, raised in the air, aimed and ready to shoot.
A shriek leaves Trey Henderson’s lips while the girl sucking him off barely recoils.
“Leave.” I sneer down at her.
She shrugs and leaves the room, not bothering to fix her haphazard clothing.
I fire a shot to his knee cap as soon as the door shuts behind her. The beginning of a piercing scream leaves his lips, but I’m on him so fast, covering his mouth with my hand, silencing him.
“WHERE. IS. RUBY?”
My anger and fear collide together like a raging storm.
“What?” Trey whimpers.
I shove my finger into the wound at his knee. “Start talking now.”
“I don’t know anything!”
Then, I shoot him in the arm.
“I will literally shoot you in every place where you cannot die, and then drop you off at a hospital so you still can’t die only to find you again and keep having a repeat of tonight. I will not quit and you know it. Either talk or suffer more.”
“You’re just going to kill me anyway,” he gasps out.
“I wasn’t planning to, but I will if you don’t talk and I will fucking drag it out. I know you’re a nosey bastard and know exactly what they’re planning with the kidnapping of Malcolm Moretti’s daughter.”
“They took her to a safe house,” he groans when I let some pressure off of his wound. I grab him, yanking him up by the arm, and drag him out the door.
“You said you wouldn’t kill me!”
“Shut the fuck up. You’re taking me to that safe house.”
Trey Henderson was nothing but a football has-been, good for nothing except cooking drugs and snitching. So, after he’d led me to the safe house, I tied him up in my trunk and gagged him.
He’s losing blood, but that’s the least of my concerns.
He better fucking be right. This better be the house. It’s secluded. Trees surround it and it looks like a cozy, log cabin a
couple would take a romantic getaway to. A white cloud of smoke escapes the chimney, and it’s fucking cold outside, but I’m too numb to feel it.
My Ruby is in there. She’s in there and probably suffering. Probably in pain and I’m the one out here just waiting and watching.
Malcolm knows where I’m at. He’s on his way, but of course he’s not as quick. He is her father and he cares, but he knows I’m the best chance he has. No matter how much I want to pummel my fist into his face, I’m not a complete ass hat. I still notified him when I received the important info and called him and our men for back up.
Our relationship is ruined and while I know I’ll feel the loss later, I don’t feel anything right now.
There’s a dim light on inside the cabin and I see a shadow moving around. I want so badly to throw the bomb and blow the place into bits. But that’ll come after. After I find her and get her back, making sure she’s safe. If even one hair on her beautiful blonde head is in disarray, these fuckers will wish I’d sent the bomb off immediately instead of following through my plan of slow torture for them.
She better be in there, I think to myself. She has to be.
Because fuck knows what I’ll do if she’s not. Trey Henderson is a worthless piece of shit, but he usually had good info due to the fact that people assumed he was an idiot who was always high. Which he was, but that didn’t stop him from snooping. People forgot how cunning he was and that he’d come from privilege. Rumor has it that he had drugged some football player he went to school with when he was just a kid. I hate to admit it, but the fucker was conniving and sneaky and could be useful at times like this.
I recognize the almost silent engine of Malcolm’s BMW, but even still, I turn around with my weapons raised. My mind isn’t clear tonight and I’ll let nothing interfere with helping Ruby.
Malcolm and several soldiers, Frank, Todd, and Luca walk up looking like a fucking swat team and I roll my eyes. Fucking pansies.
I open the trunk wordlessly, and they blink at Trey tied up lying in a puddle of his own blood.