Family Ties

by KB Winters

  Too quickly. “Ow!” The pain in my side sent me falling backwards until the mattress springs poked at my back. “Why, Polina?”

  She growled as her voice came closer. “Don’t ever call me that! I told you to call me Tits.” Her voice calmed and she added, “Can you sit up? Slower this time, Blue Eyes.”

  I nodded and pushed myself up, breathing deeply to avoid screaming in pain and drawing the nosy ears of the other girls who would sell me out in a heartbeat to save themselves.

  “Sorry, Tits. I forgot.”

  She wasn’t supposed to get too close to the girls, and I didn’t want to get her in trouble for her kindness.

  “So, what did I do?”

  “Don’t know,” she said, appraising my wounds. “But some shit’s going to go down at the club tonight and your name was mentioned. More than once.”

  Tits scanned the room and shook her head as she pulled a pair of jeans from her oversized purse. “Put these on.” She tossed a sweatshirt on the bed beside me and I slowly started to move.

  “I thought that place was owned by the Ashby dude, Jasper?”

  Tits nodded when she came from the bathroom with a wet towel.

  “It is and there’s some bachelor party going on tonight, so the Black Jacks are outside, watching. Waiting.”

  Her words barely registered, but I nodded, my focus on my struggle to lift one leg into the jeans.

  “Shit. This isn’t working,” I said. But I knew it had to work; this was my chance to get away. To make a real escape from this life . I wouldn’t blow it because of uncooperative limbs. Because of pain. “Fuck!”

  “I’ve got it,” she said. Tits kneeled in front of me and slid the denim up my legs like my nanny used to do when I was a little girl. “What the fuck happened to you, Blue Eyes?”

  I shrugged at the concern in her eyes and let out a bitter laugh. “After Blade beat the fucking shit out of me while he fucked me, I got the privilege of having the sickest, psycho men in the world brutalize my body.”

  I hadn’t moved from the bed in hours and as Tits motioned for me to stand; I realized why.

  “Shit, honey. Can you even walk?”

  No. “Are you really going to get me out of here?”

  She looked at me, her expression truly worried and gravely serious as she turned her attention to fastening the jeans riding low at my hips. “Yes. Absolutely, but it has to be now, so can you walk?”

  “I’ll do my best. Thank you, Tits.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” she groaned, struggling to get the sweatshirt over my head. “We might both end up dead before we leave the parking lot.” She tucked the sweatshirt in the waistband to keep the pants from falling off my narrow, bony hips. “Ready?”

  No, but I said, “Fuck yes, I’m ready.”

  Tits wrapped one of my arms around her shoulder and wrapped her arms around my waist since I had about four inches on her. My legs were like overcooked noodles, too unstable to hold my weight, so Tits practically dragged me from the room.

  “Get it together, Savannah.” I said the words out loud, hoping the impact would force me into action.

  “Any help would be appreciated, Blue Eyes.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered when she opened the door and somehow found the strength to lift me over the little hump and place me on the concrete walkway.

  “You said that already. Now let’s get the fuck outta here.” She dragged me along as I barely limped my way toward the parking lot.

  “I mean thanks for pretending to not know who I am.”

  “No offense, Blue Eyes, but the less I know, the better my odds of survival are.” Her grip on my waist tightened as we drew closer to a gold-colored El Dorado with a crooked Cadillac badge on the front. “Lean against the car,” she instructed.

  My legs wobbled, but the sturdy older car held my thin frame easily as Tits ran around to the driver’s side and opened the door. She pushed the back door open from the inside and pulled me across the back seat.

  “Shit. You’re one strong woman,” I said, yielding to her arms.

  A low chuckle escaped from Tits, and I looked up at her.

  “Of course, I’m strong. I’m Russian.” She winked and arranged me in place, then slammed the back door before she took her seat behind the steering wheel. “Russian-American technically because Mama was an immigrant, but she raised me like they do in the old country.”

  I didn’t know what that meant. Our family was Irish, which meant Catholic with a healthy appreciation for whiskey and a deep respect for the men who made the rules. Priests and criminals, which it turned out were pretty much the same fucking thing. “How’d you end up here?”

  “Like I said, raised like they do in the Old Country.” Tits started the car and drove slowly out of the parking lot, slamming on the gas the minute we were on the road that would take us away from the motel.

  “Also, I have bad taste in men, a trait it seems I’m doomed to carry on.” Tits kept her focus on the road ahead, occasionally glimpsing behind her to make sure we weren’t being followed.

  “He’s the best of the bunch,” I told her sincerely. Dealio wasn’t a horrendous piece of shit, at least not directly. He knew what the Black Jacks did and supplied the drugs, but he didn’t take part in the abuse.

  Tits barked out a laugh and increased the speed a little more. “That much is true, but he’s not the kind of guy you can have a forever with, ya know? One or both of us will end up dead or in prison, eventually.”

  “But that’s your choice, and I suppose that’s what your mama wanted when she came to this country.” It’s not like I was ever in a position to judge. My life choices would have led me to the same two endings. A coffin or a cell.

  Tits laughed again. “Well, Dealio has exactly what this girl wants. A big cock, a long tongue, tons of money and an endless supply of drugs.”

  There was no regret in Tits’ words, and I envied that. It reminded me of the woman I was before they turned me into a whore. I’d chosen to stay at my father’s side and run the business, a silly notion in my head of growing up to be like Sadie Ashby, a badass bitch in charge. No, the head bitch in charge.

  “You think I’m stupid?” she asked, keeping her eyes peeled over the steering wheel.

  “No, I think you’re smart. You know exactly who he is and you accept it because you know what you want and how to get it. More women would be better off if they were honest about what they wanted.”

  “Yeah, and what do you want, Blue Eyes?”

  “Freedom,” I sighed and my voiced cracked, not from emotion but from dehydration.

  “You’re getting that honey, so think just a little bit bigger because I have to find somewhere to take you. You got somebody to take you in?”

  A bitter laugh escaped that led to a coughing fit. My ribs hurt like hell, and I cried out. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had anything to drink, and all the talking had only dried my mouth out more.

  “If he hasn’t come to get me, chances are good he won’t take me back, so no I have no place to go.”

  “Shit, Blue Eyes, that’s not what I wanted to hear. I’m already doing more than I should, but I can’t keep you at my place. It violates Green Zone rules.”

  “I know,” I sighed because I knew them well. The Green Zone was neutral, the Switzerland of the greater Las Vegas area, which meant she couldn’t do anything to help or hurt any of the crews that operated within it.

  “This is plenty,” I told her sincerely. “Just drop me off anywhere,” I said as another coughing fit took over.

  “Stay here,” she said as she pushed the gearshift into park on the old car and stepped out. “You need food and water.”

  “And smokes,” I called out to her. “I haven’t had a fix in days, and I need…something, Tits. Please.”

  “And cigarettes,” she mumbled before slamming the driver’s side door behind her.

  I sat up slowly, grunting through the pain in my side to see where we w
ere. It was a free-standing convenience store that sat just off the interstate with a duo of payphones out front. I was tempted to make a call to my father, because a small part of me wanted to believe he was still looking for me, but I knew better.

  Too much time had passed, and he’d moved on, probably gave the reins to my brother like Brendan always wanted. They’d forgotten all about me, most likely. Or worse, they didn’t want me because after all this time, I might have revealed organizational secrets to put the Rhymer family and The Crusaders in danger.

  Either way, I was a woman without a home.

  And I had to get the fuck away from here.

  Chapter Nine

  Charlie

  “You throw one hell of a party, Ashby!” It was tough to be heard over the loud thump of the bass music below, where curvy girls with big tits shook and shimmied to the music while hungry and horny men tossed one, five, and twenty-dollar bills onto the stage.

  Jasper smiled and leaned in, the amber liquid in his glass sloshing around as he did. “It’s not every day your kid brother gets married.” He shrugged it off, but he wore a wide smile, either from too many drinks or just because who didn’t like to hang out with his boys while naked women danced below.

  “Lucky Lopez is a damn good place for a man’s last night of freedom!”

  I tossed my head back and laughed at his words, true as they were.

  “No shit. There’s some hot ass down there, that’s for sure. But this VIP room, it’s the shit, Jas.”

  The room was mirrored glass on three sides so important guests could see out into the club, but no one could see inside. “It’s pretty fucking perfect.”

  “Right?” He snapped his fingers and a server in nothing but a silver thong and fuck me heels, teetered over with a smile.

  “What can I getcha, Mr. Ashby?” She blinked up at him with long lashes and a smile that said she’d be happy to get him anything he needed.

  Jasper barely paid attention to her, his gaze focused on the redhead with a wide smile serving up drinks in the corner. She had the attention of no less than four different Reckless Bastards, not to mention three of the four giants who provided security for Ashby card games.

  “More whiskey for me and another dark beer for my friend,” he said, ignoring her attention.

  Deflated, the waitress rolled her eyes and glared at me as if I was the reason she couldn’t get any play. “Well?”

  “No thanks, I’ll just have Maureen mix up something for me since she doesn’t mind doing her job.”

  The girls at Bungalow Three would never act this way toward a paying customer. They were always smiling and happy, tits poked out and lips formed into a perfect pout. Shit. Now I was thinking about the girls who’d been snatched. Again.

  So far neither Jag nor Jameson had found anything on the dark web, no evidence of our women anywhere. It really pissed me off I hadn’t been able to find them, more so that I couldn’t even enjoy Virgil’s bachelor party because I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “Hey man, you all right?”

  I looked at Jasper and shrugged. “Yeah man. Just club shit I can’t seem to turn off.”

  He flashed a knowing smile and clapped me on the back as we made our way over to the long table filled with booze. “It’s a job that has no days off, I’m afraid.” Jasper laughed and cut through the crush of men, working hard to get another of Maureen’s throaty laughs.

  “Mo, how about a shot of something strong for Charlie? And a beer chaser.”

  “Comin’ right up, luv.” She winked and turned away, a small blush staining her cheeks.

  “Interesting.”

  Jasper glared at me and shook his head. “There’s nothing interesting about Mo. Got that?”

  A bark of laugher escaped just as Maureen—or Mo—set a shot of whiskey and a long-neck of beer right in front of me and said, “Drink up, my friend. Virgil’s getting married!”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mo!” Virgil groaned out loud as a cheer erupted from every man in the room, pushing him toward the table where Maureen had lined up four shots. “Four?”

  She nodded. “The guys here think that’s how many months it’ll be before you have our Maisie knocked up.”

  He flashed a wide smile and picked up the first glass. “Thank you and fuck you all, very much!” Like a real pro, the man picked up each glass and tossed them back like water.

  “All right, boys, come and get it!” With a flourish, she tipped the bottle of Velvet Fire on its side and filled up enough tumblers for every man in the room. “Congrats, Virg. You’re one lucky bastard.”

  “The luckiest, Mo. The goddamn luckiest, and I know it.”

  Jasper grinned at the banter between Virgil and Maureen, making me wonder if she was just another Ashby employee, or something more. “One more day, and the wedding hoopla is over.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “Over it, already?”

  “No,” he sighed and took a long sip of whiskey. “But between the arson at the caterers and all the other shit that’s going on, this is a big damn distraction. Plus a wedding is the perfect time for Brendan or the Black Jacks to strike.”

  “No shit. Those assholes, at least I’m pretty sure it was the Black Jacks, took a couple of our girls.”

  Surprise flashed in Jasper’s all-seeing eyes. “Fuckin’ sucks, man. I’ll let you know if I hear or see anything. The Crusaders are still out there bringing in girls from overseas.”

  “Fuck that shit.” Before I could say another damn word, the lone door that fed into the VIP room was kicked open with enough force that it bounced off the wall. “Holy fuck!”

  “What the fuck!” Jasper and I shouted at the same time as two figures came into focus.

  Brendan Rhymer stood in the doorway with a smarmy smile on his face. The sight of him knocked me back a step as a thousand questions shot through my mind. It wasn’t my place, but I knew how the Ashby’s rolled. Same as the Bastards would if we owned this club. So, how the fuck did he and the asshole he’d brought for backup get past security?

  Next thing I saw was how oh so fucking proud Brendan was that he’d gotten the jump on a bunch of Reckless Bastards and Ashbys. “Am I interrupting anything?” he said with a smirk I couldn’t wait to wipe off his hideous face.

  It wasn’t my show, or I’d have dropped him by now. I stood there trying to gauge what would happen next? Was this a parlay? Would Jasper make a move?

  Before I could finish that thought, Brendan moved for his gun and in that split second, Jasper got off two shots before I even aimed and fired.

  It all happened so fast; I wasn’t sure I heard Jasper answer Brendan’s question. “Not anymore,” he’d said. And it was true. Jasper squeezed the trigger one more time into Brendan and we watched him crumple to the ground. The last time he’d interrupt anything.

  It all happened so fast. Before I knew it, I’d put two into his sidekick. One in the head and one in the chest took out the guy in the Black Jacks kutte.

  My ears rang, the smell of gunpowder burned in my nostrils, and the whole shit show made my head spin, but I got it together enough to ask, “What the fuck was that?”

  Jasper aimed his gun at the bodies as if it were a pointer in a lecture hall. “That’s a dead fucking Rhymer and reason enough to party,” a slow smile spreading across his face. “Always hated that motherfucker.”

  My stomach turned, and it wasn’t the food. I wasn’t sorry to see the end of Rhymer, but I didn’t revel in death, nor at the blood seeping toward my boots. Yet, from the glee in Jasper Ashby’s eyes, you’d never know he’d just snuffed out the life of his enemy.

  “Party on guys!” Jasper raised his hands, a tumbler in one hand and his nine mil in the other.

  At the same time, I knew it was Rhymer or us. “Great shot, Ashby!” I said and took a pull of my beer in his honor. He’d just saved my life.

  “Not too bad yourself, Charlie.” Jasper said and raised his glass.

  Stilettos had
laid out a silver tray with about fifteen lines of blow on it, so I strode over to her and snorted up a few lines. I didn’t want to seem greedy and still had to ride home.

  Jasper looked around, taking in the shocked, drunken expressions of the men who thought they were safe here. Jasper owned the Lucky Lopez, even though it was in the Green Zone. I wasn’t sure how many people were aware of that fact. Hell, I’d just found out today. But these guys were his people.

  “What I want to know,” he said, all trace of the party guy gone. “Is how the fuck this happened?”

  It was a good damn question. I wiped my nose, enjoying the buzz and walked back over to Jas. “We should check on the girls. And the bouncers.”

  Jasper nodded. “And whoever the fuck else might be dead down there,” he growled and motioned for me to follow, which I did. “You’re pretty badass with that piece, Charlie.”

  I ignored the smirk on Jasper’s face because it wasn’t the first time I’d heard that. I’d been on the shooting range at the MC since I was about five. “Don’t you forget it. Pass the world along.”

  The downstairs part of Lucky Lopez was business as usual with two girls stripped out of their bikini tops on the main stage. Another cat crawled her way up onto the pole, while a bunch of rowdy college boys threw money at her.

  “Shit,” he growled and stopped in the middle of the club.

  I knew exactly what he was getting at. The bouncer stood between the security doors and several burly security men were stationed around the bar. Drinks were being served while the DJ mixed music and introduced the dancers. It was just like any other strip club in the world.

  “They just walked right in?” I asked.

  “Not with guns,” Jasper said, a puzzled look on his face. “Somebody let them in.”

  “You sure?”

  “Fuck yeah, I’m sure. I’ve got the best of the best on those front doors.” His gaze darkened as he took in each of his employees with fresh eyes, wondering which of them had betrayed him. “I need a fucking drink.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s get back upstairs. We still got a river of booze to drink and two bodies to dispose of all before the sun comes up.”