Reason To Live

by C. M. Wright

  The loudest is my husband's, of course.

  “The hell you are! Get your ass over here. You're not going any damned place.”

  The flush of red quickly covering his very angry face kind of scares me, I have to admit. I've made the man mad before, no question there, but I'm not sure I've ever pissed him off quite this much in the past. Okay, let me rephrase that. I don't think I've ever pissed him off this much when it didn't concern Jake.

  Shit! He's really mad.

  Unfortunately, I'm not the type to let anger stand in my way. As scared as I am to go ahead with our own plan, and as much as I hate pissing Will off like this, I can not let someone sacrifice themselves and just stand back and watch. At least, not without trying to do something to help.

  Amanda steps in front of me, blocking Will. She puts her hands up and pushes on Will's chest in an attempt to shove him back. He doesn't budge.

  “You just stop right there. We have a plan and we'll be fine. Maybe we'll get a bruise or two, but, um...”

  I push Amanda behind me and step closer to Will when she loses her bravado. Will's deadly stare moves from her and locks onto me. I refuse to show any fear, but you can bet I'm feeling quite a bit of it.

  “Will, we can't let them go in alone. If Walker is the only prisoner, you and I both know they will kill him. He's too intimidating. We're hoping the distraction of a few more females to add to their collection will help save Walker's life.”

  I motion for Amanda to give us some space with a nod of my head and she quickly moves away. Her husband stalks toward her with a look that equals Will's, but she's going to have to deal with him alone as I've got my own pissed off husband to deal with.

  “Canada, just last night you were unsure of your ability to lead and make decisions, and you had lost about all the confidence you ever had in yourself. What's changed?” he asks me quiet enough that only he and I can hear. His eyes have gone from deadly to confused and concerned. Will lifts his left arm and gently cups my cheek. “It's the challenge, isn't it? All because I said you weren't going to do something, you just have to defy me. You can't stand being told no, and you can't stand not being in control. I'm right, aren't I?”

  I think about it for a few long moments and I know he's nailed most of it.

  “Maybe. Look, Will. I've been that way my whole life, but I've also always been the type to stand up and help when it's needed. Think about it, Will. If Walker goes in there, they are going to kill him immediately. He's too big, too much of a threat and he can't hide his fighter personality. The Krew aren't going to believe for one second that those kids captured him on their own. But... if Amanda goes too, they might believe that he's so concerned for his wife, that he's being submissive in the hopes that she won't be hurt. Maybe they won't kill him if she goes.”

  “And you? Why do you need to go?” Will asks me.

  I lift my head so that he can see just how serious I am.

  “To support Amanda. And to kill whoever needs to be killed.”

  Chapter Eight

  Will's eyes flash as he stares down at me. Finally, his body goes slack and his eyes become dull as he realizes he won't be able to talk me out of this. I'm going, and no one will stop me.

  We both turn as Walker storms over to where we stand. His face is bright red from anger, and his movements are hard.

  Yep, he's definitely pissed and his wife is definitely going!

  I look over at Amanda and see her grin of triumph. I attempt to give her one of my own, but I'm sure it comes out as more of a grimace.

  I want to do this, but of course I'm scared. Who the hell wouldn't be?

  Okay, who wouldn't be besides Walker?

  Soon, almost too soon, the new plan is distributed among our people and Amanda and I are sitting inside the truck. I press my back into the seat and wonder if I'm going to pass out from the terror as the wheels begin to move the truck out of the parking garage. We make a long detour to the Krew's building so that they will assume we've just arrived from out of town. As we approach, I catch a glimpse of two members disappear inside. Not long after, the balconies on the second floor on each side of the entrance are filled with men. More men begin to flow out of the double front doors. Most stay on the large cement porch, but a few come down to meet the truck.

  Their guns are aimed at Jade, our driver, and I can see the fear in her eyes reflecting in the rearview mirror. Sandro and Gabe have their guns aimed at Amanda, Jason and me. Mostly Amanda and me. Jason and I both have guns hidden on us, but Amanda only has a hunting knife duct-taped to her calf as that's what she requested. I too have a knife taped to my right calf, and if Amanda's legs are as unshaven as mine are – and I have to assume they are, or are even worse than mine – it's going to hurt like a bitch when we take that tape off. Assuming the Krew don't find them first.

  The truck is stopped and the driver's door is jerked open from the outside at almost the same time as the door closest to me is opened. A man's dirty face, with a much too long and filthy beard, is the first thing I see. His eyes scan the inside of the truck, searching for his leader, I assume. Surprised not to see him inside, the man looks down the road from where we came and turns back to us when he finds no other vehicle approaching.

  “Where's Carlos?” the hairy man questions Sandro with a hostile tone.

  I hold my breath as I wait to see how Sandro handles this. He has to take control from the very beginning, he has to let them know that he's the boss now and he won't take shit from anyone.

  Sandro keeps his gun aimed at us and only gives the man a small amount of his attention. “He's dead. Get these prisoners out of here and get them inside. Now.”

  His demand was met with silence, but just when I think things are going to get bad, Sandro turns his head to the man still standing at the door.

  “Did I not make myself clear, Roy?” he snarled. “Get them inside and do it now.”

  I think all three of us “prisoners” are taken back by the change in Sandro. Hell, even Jade and Gabe seem to look at him funny, but the man at the door grabs my arm and yanks me out of the truck, then slams me into the metal of the side panel. He roughly places one filthy hand across my throat and holds me against the truck as he orders Walker and Amanda out. I can still breathe, but just barely. Finally, he releases me when Sandro emerges from the truck, and the other man places himself at the side of his new boss who is now standing before us, facing us. The other men begin to crowd behind Sandro, and I'm sure any second now, someone will challenge him.

  However, I apparently underestimated the power Sandro's Uncle Carlos had over his gang. His word was obviously law, and since he said Sandro was in charge should anything happen to him, then Sandro is in charge. No questions, no challenges.

  Sandro orders the men to take us inside and lock us each in a room on the top floor. The men do so without hesitation. They lead us up the concrete steps, past the men at the top of the porch, and soon enough, we're inside the infamous Krew building.

  The lower level we enter was once the main hub of the building. This is where security would sit at the large desk in the shape of a half moon, and where the mailboxes line the wall to the right just past the two elevators. A glass door immediately to our left leads to what appears to have once been a restaurant or lounge. Further down the hall on each side are a couple of steel doors, and at the end of the hall is the stairs.

  The men walks us toward the stairs and pushes us roughly through the door. One leads us, while several more follow behind. They have made sure that any plans we might have to escape from this group any time soon, won't be happening.

  I can hear Sandro further behind us, issuing orders and refusing to answer questions of what had happened to the other Krew members and his uncle beyond the most basic of details. I hope that doesn't make the men suspicious, but Sandro is on his own now. His decisions are now his to make alone.

  We finally reach the top floor and my shaky legs scream in relief.

  Damn eleva
tors! They are only there to tease us now.

  Walker is shoved roughly inside the first room, then Amanda is tossed, almost literally, into the second. When we come to the third door, I know what kind of treatment to expect, and am able to keep my footing, but only barely, when they push me none too gently inside. The door slams behind me before I can even turn around and I hear a lock bolt slide into place on the other side.

  Not even bothering to make sure the door is really locked, I turn and take in my surroundings. I discover I've been tossed into a one bedroom apartment with a small kitchen and an even smaller bathroom. The fridge and freezer have been loaded with food and the cupboards are well-stocked. My stomach grumbles but I hesitate and venture a sniff-check before pulling out a glass bottle of what appears to be milk. I then investigate plastic bags of thinly sliced meat. Not trusting the meat, I instead take out a can of Spam from the cupboard and make a sandwich from the homemade bread I found in a breadbox on the counter.

  The milk is definitely not store bought, and I take a moment while chewing the sandwich to wonder if the Krew have access to a dairy farm somewhere nearby.

  Random and unimportant questions and thoughts keep popping up in my head until I remember I've been captured and that I should be thinking about how we were going to escape and rescue the innocent, which is the entire reason we're here. I pop the last of the sandwich in my mouth, gulp down the last of the milk from my glass, then stand and wander to the living room windows.

  I locate the building my group has taken over temporarily. Knowing my family and friends are close by helps to rebuild the determination and strength inside me.

  The sound of the lock and the door being opened spins me around. I watch warily as a man steps through with a stack of clothes folded and resting on one of his huge hands.

  He tosses them to me and I instinctively reach up and catch them, before sending him a questioning look.

  “Take your shit off and put those on,” he snarls at me. His face seems to be permanently stuck with a look of anger and I feel a chill run down my spine. I can easily see him being the type to enjoy giving pain.

  I dropped the bundle on the small table next to me, then raise the first item and shake it out. It's a thin sleeveless tank top in a bright red color. My brows raise as I look at it, wondering if the Krew realize how freaking cold it still is. I drop it and pick up the next item. This piece of clothing causes my mouth to drop open in shock.

  Hooter girls had more covering their ass than this pair of shorts!

  I snort and drop the shorts onto the discarded tank top. I look up at the man with an incredulous smirk.

  “There a problem? I said put them on,” the man glares at me, but has a knowing smirk of his own twisting his mouth.

  “You're kidding, right? It's freaking winter outside, I'll freeze to death if I wear that shit,” I snarl back at him. “And my ass wouldn't look good in something like that anyway. And besides all that, do you really think hairy legs are attractive? It's not like I have the luxury to shave like I could before.”

  The man moves toward me so fast, I only have time to take one step back. His right hand thrusts deep inside my hair before he twists it in his fist and jerks my head back. His face looms much too close to mine, our noses almost touching. I can feel the heat from his breath on my lips, and the smell of rot that pours from his mouth makes me want to gag and release the contents I'd just filled my stomach with.

  My hand moves slowly to the gun tucked into the pocket of army jacket, but just as my hand wraps around the cold metal, the man in front of me showers rancid breath and spit on my face and his body begins to sink as his hand rips through my hair. I follow him down with shocked eyes, then notice that we aren't as alone as I'd thought. Gabe is standing only a few inches behind where the man had been, a long knife smeared with blood in his raised right hand.

  “You all right?” he asks me, his voice calm and steady.

  I nod and help him as he moves the man's body to the coat closet near the now closed front door. He must have shut it when he came in, though neither the man nor I had heard a sound. We shove the dead man's body inside the tiny closet and manage to get the door to shut. Then Gabe and I lean against the wall to catch our breath.

  “Sandro ordered the men to fetch my sister. It was a gamble, as we weren't sure she was still... alive, and we weren't sure what their reaction would be if she were... well, you know, and would wonder why Carlos would have kept that from his second in command.”

  I nod to show that I understand what he was unable to say. The word “dead” is just too much when it's someone you love.

  Gabe flashes me a relieved and grateful look, then continues, “I was terrified she was gone and that it would raise their suspicions when they found out that Carlos hadn't told his nephew that bit of news. But they brought Gabriella up to his room and she looks great. According to her, they'd put her in an apartment with an elderly woman who took the best care of her. She had all kinds of nice clothes, food, and all the toys she could ever want. She missed me, of course, but she was happy enough and safe.”

  “Good. At least that has turned out better than we hoped, and I'm so happy you got your baby sister back, Gabe. Now to get her, ourselves, and the rest of the captives out safely.”

  “Yeah, we've been discussing how best to proceed. Sandro wants you and the other two brought to him, so be expecting an escort soon.” Gabe steps away from the wall and turns back to me. “I better go before someone catches me in here. See you soon.”

  “Later,” I tell him as he opens the door, peeks outside, then disappears.

  I hear the lock slide back into place and something dark moving across the floor catches my attention. Panic builds inside as I realize blood from the man we had hidden in the closet was seeping out from under the door. I rush into the bathroom and soak a towel in water. I clean up the mess, then begin shoving the towel under the closet door with my fingers, lining it up across the bottom on the inside to trap anymore blood from soaking through.

  Finished and satisfied that the floor showed no trace of the red sticky substance, I make my way to the couch, where I sink onto the cushions sideways and bring my legs up. I wrap my arms around my legs and rest my head on my knees as I try to force myself to relax. I know it's going to get crazy soon enough and I want to be on top of my game. I have to be, if I expect any chance of surviving this.

  After being in that position too long, my legs and back begin to cramp and I decide to lie down for a bit, maybe catch a nap. I don't know how long I slept, but the sound of the door unlocking wakes me instantly. My eyes flash open and I sit up so fast I have to fight back the dizziness.

  The door opens and a couple of big nasty goons enter. They stop near the door and order me to follow them. I do and expect it when they each take a side of me and grab my arms in hands as strong as vice grips. Even though I expected it, I still have to restrain myself from the instinct to fight. Up ahead, I see Walker and his wife being led by their own goon escorts.

  I gasp in shock when I see that Amanda hadn't been saved from having to wear the slutty outfit. Her butt cheeks are almost completely bare and the tiny bit of glossy material that was designated for the ass is tightly up her ass. I clamp my teeth down on my tongue to keep from laughing at the awkward and clearly uncomfortable way she has to waddle down the hall.

  Poor girl!

  I bet some men are going to die by her hand before we get out of here just for that humiliation and embarrassment alone.

  Can't say I blame her or feel a damn bit sorry for the idiots.

  We're taken to a door at the end of the hall that opens into a large apartment, much larger than the one I was in. Sandro is sitting on the floor playing with a gorgeous little girl with long black hair that curls down her back. Her big blue eyes are mesmerizing when they turn to look at the newcomers. She's dressed warmly in a soft pink sweater and black slacks with pink socks and pink tennis shoes with what looks like a female Disney c
haracter on them. A quick grin breaks out before I can stop it as I see how well she really has been taken care of.

  Bless that woman for how very well she has taken care of the little girl; and I guess I have to be thankful to the disgusting Carlos, for allowing her to live and be taken care of so well.

  Sandro stands and orders the men to tie us to the chairs lined up against the wall beside us. They do.

  Boy, do they! Damn rope is tight as hell.

  They tie our hands behind us, then strap a rope around our chests and the back of the chairs. Finally, our feet are secured to the bottom of the chairs with even more rope.

  My heart stutters when I look up and see an evil coldness shine from Sandro's eyes.

  Did we just totally screw up here? Was all the shit from before about feeling guilt and shame on his part all just a freaking act?

  Amanda and Walker must be thinking along the same lines, because I hear a sharp inhalation of air from Amanda, and can see Walker's eyes narrow as he stares at the teen.

  Sandro releases his men, who leave immediately. Sandro gently tells Gabe's sister, Gabriella, to go in the bedroom, and as soon as the door closes behind her, another door a few feet from the her's opens. Gabe and Jade exit and cross the room toward us.

  No, more like they stalk toward us.

  What. The. Hell.

  And this, folks, is where we say goodbye.

  But once the two teens stop next to Sandro, they all relax and their eyes soften.

  “I'm sorry, but I have to leave you tied up. The men always seem to find one excuse or another to come here,” Sandro tells us as he spreads his arms and shrugs.

  Then Sandro grabs another kitchen chair and straddles it backwards, facing us. Jade goes over and stands in front of the door, her eye plastered to the peephole. Gabe leans against the back of the couch, his arms crossed over his chest and one foot crossed over the other, but obviously ready to run and hide if he needs to.