by Bella Jewel
This is bad.
Really bad.
“I’m not Yolanda,” I try again, pathetically.
A gun is pressed to my temple, and my lip starts to tremble. Fear, unlike anything I’ve ever felt, rips through my body.
She’s ruined my life.
She’s taken so much from me.
And now, my sister is going to be the reason I die.
~*~*~*~
MASON
All fucking night.
Searched for her all fucking night.
Not a sign of her.
Nobody was at Chantelle’s house, and nobody had been back to my house.
I even went past Theresa’s house. Yolanda’s house. Nothing.
There is no sign of her.
Fucking wild, Malakai and I go back to Chantelle’s house to see if she’s home yet. If anyone knows where Saskia is, it’ll be her.
It’s only about six in the morning, but we roll right up and bang on her front door, pounding and pounding, calling out her name. She answers after about five minutes, sleepy, mascara running down her cheeks, looking like she had a big fucking night.
Hope sparks in my chest.
Maybe they went out and Saskia is here. Chantelle doesn’t look worried, which gives me a small sunshine of hope.
“She doesn’t want to see you,” she mutters, rubbing her eyes. “So leave.”
“So, she’s here?”
Chantelle stares at me, and then blinks. “I ...”
She hesitates. For a split second. And every ounce of hope I had, fades. She doesn’t know if she’s here. How the fuck could she not know if she’s here or not?
“Is. She. Here?” I growl.
“Keep your shirt on. We went out last night, but she left earlier than me and caught a cab home. I didn’t check when I got home, because, well, why would I?”
“Let me in, now,” I demand, stepping closer.
“Whoa there, buddy, if she doesn’t want to see you, she doesn’t want to see you. I’m not going to go against her ...”
“You listen to me, woman,” I hiss, leaning in close. “There are bad men out there, fuckin’ bad men lookin’ for her sister. Who do you think looks like her sister? I have Yolanda, which means if they find someone, it’s Saskia. They find her, she’s in deep shit. I’m not here because of what went down, I’m here to make sure she’s okay.”
Chantelle’s eyes widen. “Shit.”
She steps out of the way and we move into the house. She points to the bedroom door that Saskia should be behind, and I fucking cross my fingers. I actually cross my fingers. I don’t care if I open that door and she loses her shit at me, telling me she hates me and never to come back, I don’t care because I’ll know she’s okay and I can keep her safe.
I grab the door handle and twist it, taking a breath and pushing it open.
The bed is empty.
My eyes dart around the room, looking for any trace of her, but no one is in there. I spin around. “Bathroom, where is it?”
Chantelle rushes down the hall and pushes the bathroom door open, then steps out, shaking her head, the fear real in her eyes. “She’s not here. Oh, God. How did I not know she wasn’t here?”
My first instinct is to throttle her, but that’s not a fair reaction. The girl isn’t responsible for Saskia, and she’s certainly not responsible for checking on her every night before she goes to bed. It isn’t her fault.
“Not your fault,” I say, and the heaviness in my chest very nearly brings me to my fucking knees.
My girl is gone.
And I have no fucking idea where she is, or what’s happening to her.
All because of me and my stupid fucking mouth.
I should have given her a chance, should have let her talk, instead I went off halfcocked and caused all of this to happen.
My stupid fucking pride got in the way, and now she’s in danger.
Big time.
~24~
SASKIA
My wrists burn. They’ve tied me so tight I can’t even twist them side to side in some pathetic attempt at getting away. Even if I did get out, I’ve got nowhere to go; I don’t even know where I am. Some strange house, locked in a damned basement, with literally no idea how to get out. I have no idea what they’re going to do with me, but one thing is clear—it doesn’t matter how much I tell them I’m not Yolanda, they don’t believe me.
Which means I’m screwed, yet again, by my selfish sister.
It’s morning now; I can tell by the light coming through a window that’s far too high for me to reach. Even if I wasn’t tied down, I wouldn’t be able to get close to getting out of it. But, the good thing is, morning means Chantelle will realize I’m not there, hopefully become alarmed, and call Mason. As much as I don’t want to see him, that club might be the only people who can get me out of this.
Because I don’t know what they’re going to do with me.
I’ve seen these kinds of stories. You don’t get away with taking money from people like this, so they very likely might hurt me to make an example of what exactly it is they’ll do if they’re not paid. What better way to prove a point and get a message across, not only to Enzo but to everyone else out there who dares to cross them, then to kill his pregnant girlfriend.
Only I’m not his pregnant girlfriend.
I’m his ex-girlfriend, who had no idea the kind of man she spent so many years with.
But, they don’t know that. Why would they? They don’t care. They know Enzo owes them money, he obviously didn’t come through with it when promised, and now they’re pissed off.
I’m trying not to be afraid, but I’d like to think I’m stronger than to let fear bring me down and show weakness, but the truth of the matter is, deep down inside, I’m so scared. I’m so damned scared of what’s going to happen next. I have no idea, and that scares me more, because any second everything could change. What if nobody finds me in time? They might have absolutely no reason to keep me alive. None at all.
I twist again, but my hands are so tightly bound and so are my feet. I’m not getting out of here anytime soon.
The door opens, and my head whips up to see the blond man from the night before coming down the stairs, followed by the same two men he was with. So far, they haven’t hurt me, but I know I’m naïve in thinking that won’t change. They’re going to hurt me, probably in brutal ways, and there is going to be sweet fuck-all I can do about it.
I hold the eyes of the blond man, even when he stops in front of me and looks down, like I’m pathetic, like he could just snap me like a twig and there’d be nothing I could do about it. He’s probably right, only I’m not pathetic. I will not give in and go down with tears in my eyes. Not me. Not Saskia.
Never.
“You’ll get one chance to tell the truth before we make you tell the truth.”
I don’t say anything. I let him continue, because he’s going to anyway.
“Now, you promised us cash, a fuck load of it. Delivered yesterday. You didn’t come through, and you honestly thought we wouldn’t find you and track you down? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid girl.”
He’s right, that would be stupid.
But Yolanda would have had the cash, if I didn’t take the jewelry and give it back to Mason.
“Where is the cash?”
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 strugg
le 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.”