by C. M. Owens
Cursing, I hear the traitor answer, and tears cloud my eyes when he walks out, leaving me unable to shout. My lips move in a desperate motion, but my throat is so dry that only a tiny squeak slips free.
It’s only then that I realize my hands are tightly bound behind me, and that I’m tied to a chair, both my legs fastened to a chair leg.
The bag is instantly jerked off my head, and I blink against the blinding lights overhead as a shadow falls over me. A grinning Lathan is staring down at me, and I struggle in vain against the binds that hold me to the chair.
“Hello, sister. You’ll notice I take you a little more seriously now,” he says, gesturing to me. “Last time I never expected you to pick a lock and manage to escape. How exactly did you escape, and where were you these past several, long months?” he muses.
I roll my eyes and cut my gaze away.
He turns and grabs a bottle of water, and I struggle when he grips my chin in his hand, forcing my mouth open as I cry out in pain. Then he pours the water down my throat, causing me to cough and heave.
The water splashes on my face, up my nose, and down my neck as he pours it until its empty.
“Don’t say I never gave you anything,” he says as he flicks the empty bottle to the ground.
Nowhere close to hydrated, I simply glare at him.
“How long have I been here?” I ask in a scratchy voice as Lathan takes a seat behind a table that has lines of coke on a mirror next to a rolled-up dollar bill.
“Two days. You sort of almost died. Had to have a doctor come out and check on you since that idiot dosed you with enough sedatives to take down a horse.”
He laughs, because he’s bat-shit crazy.
“But you’ve survived. Now you’re awake. And it’s time to talk about the money you inherited. See, I’m going to need access to all Blackbird’s accounts. Last time, I was polite and asked. This time, I’m going to tear the information out of you.”
I snort derisively, and his look hardens as he stands.
Before he can make a move, Troy steps back in, and my eyes water as my heart kicks my chest.
“How could you?” I bite out.
Troy looks from me to Lathan like he’s surprised I’m awake, then his lips thin as his gaze turns cold and lands on me again.
“Troy got tired of his family always living in Blackbird’s shadow. His father is like a puppy at Blackbird’s feet, no matter who Blackbird is. And now he’s stuck being the next one in line to be your puppy,” Lathan supplies, clapping his hands together as his grin returns.
I laugh humorlessly, but the laugh turns into a painful cough because I’m so dehydrated that laughing is a terrible idea.
“Your father gets paid like a king to be Blackbird’s right hand. Not Blackbird’s puppy,” I manage to say, a smirk on my lips as Troy glares at me.
“Bullshit. I’ve seen what you have compared to my family, and it’s time to even things out,” Troy snaps.
“Smitty always did want you to work for things instead of just handing you everything,” I say with a dark grin. “Twenty years old and you got impatient, and now you’re going to die when he finds you. Because the thing he hates most is a disloyal little fuck who helped another disloyal little fuck kill his brother. Kill his family. And now you’re going to kill me—the girl he loves like a daughter. The girl who loved you like a brother. Figures you’d be the traitor amongst us. I never did have luck with brothers.”
I spit up some blood from my dry throat, and cast a glare toward Lathan, who is narrowing his eyes at me.
Then I return my gaze to a seething Troy as he says, “You never saw me as a brother, or I wouldn’t have been kept out of all the meetings. All the secrets. I wasn’t even allowed to know where you were these past few months.”
I snort again, working hard not to laugh. “Says the traitor.”
“I’m not a traitor,” he growls. “I’m just the guy who won’t be your doormat and bring in all the money that you spend while you do nothing.”
See? Misinformation leads to sociopaths lashing out. I never understood Smitty expecting his son to work from the ground up the way he did, but I’m glad he did that now.
Otherwise, Lathan would know everything the Families have been up to. As of right now, he has no clue that it’s been me behind all his little hiccups with the sex trafficking ring he’s running for Phillip.
Obviously we’d be having a much different discussion if he did know.
“Thing is, Smitty has more money than he can ever spend,” I say, focusing my attention back on Troy. “He just lives humbly because it sucks to have the IRS breathing down your neck and trying to figure out where all that cash is coming from. Well, sort of humbly. He has a brownstone and an apartment in two of the priciest areas of New York.”
He darts a look toward Lathan.
“True story,” Lathan says with a careless shrug.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Troy seethes, glaring at Lathan. “You admitted my father got pennies for all he does. That Blackbird brainwashes faithful servants into doing its bidding, then reaps all the rewards.”
“Not my fault you don’t realize how much it costs to have nice things in New York. And you’re the idiot who was easily convinced that you’d get pennies. Now go away before I shoot you, and send in Garren. I’m going to need his expertise. Obviously I’m not even sick enough to coerce information out of my sister the way he can.”
A sick feeling pits in my stomach, and Troy glares at Lathan a second longer before stalking out, slamming the door behind him.
“Obviously his brains didn’t come from his father’s side. Penelope, however, has always been a bit dense. Probably got it from her,” Lathan says conversationally.
“The Families will hunt you down and tear you to pieces for this,” I say calmly, trying to keep my emotions in check so that my threats sound a little creepier.
“They’ve been trying to find me for months,” he says dismissively.
A small grin plays on my lips. “We’ve known exactly where you were for months. We’re just waiting for you to lead us to Phillip,” I tell him.
“Not the same place I took you the last time,” he says, gesturing around the warehouse before ticking the side of his head with his index finger. “I’m not that stupid. But I do have a welcoming party waiting for them if they try to rescue you from there.”
“We know exactly where you are,” I say again, my grin staying in place, even as dread uncurls. A welcoming party? That’s not good, because they’ll go there first. Unless they figure out Lathan wouldn’t take me there and know it’s a setup.
He studies me for a second like he’s trying to decipher if I’m bluffing or not.
“Nice try, sister, but if that were the case, Ezekiel would have barged in by now and already reclaimed you.”
Damn.
Bluff called.
Still… “If you say so,” I say with a shrug, looking away as though I’m unconcerned. He’s paranoid, so I’m hoping to play on that.
My head jerks to the side suddenly, and pain lances through my face, rattling my teeth, as a loud smack resounds through the room. My cheek stings, feeling like it’s on fire, as my eyes blink, trying to steady my focus.
It takes me a second to realize my bitch brother just bitch slapped me.
“Don’t try to get into my head, Maya,” he says, his eyes finding mine with cold detachment. “It won’t work. I know you too well to let you fuck with me.”
The door opens, and a guy steps in.
“Thought I told everyone not to disturb me while I was down here,” Lathan bites out.
“Sorry, but Nicholas is here with his guys to take the shipment. We don’t know where you keep the cash, and he’s not running the drugs without cash.”
It’s pathetic the drug-running operation is just a ruse to cover up the sex trafficking, in case anyone goes rooting around for what he’s up to out here. People like Drex and them who had no idea
.
People like this Nicholas guy, whoever he is.
Cursing, Lathan walks out, leaving me behind, since there’s no way he’d trust handing money over to anyone else even for a brief moment. Still a little dazed from his slap, I look around the room, trying to find something that will help me.
Being tied to a chair limits my options.
The door opens again, and a guy steps in, his face a stone mask as he starts undoing his jeans on his way to me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I growl.
He smirks at me. “I’ve come to make you talk. Lathan sent for me.”
Garren. He mentioned a Garren.
“Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll quadruple it. All you have to do is get me out of here.”
His gaze rakes over me as he bites down on his bottom lip. “Lathan would kill me,” he says absently. “And passing you up would be hard to do.”
“Ten million might change your mind,” I offer, arching an eyebrow.
That has his attention, and his gaze sweeps back up to my eyes, suspicion pooling in their depths.
“Ten? Just like that?”
“You’re only down here to torture information out of me—apparently by really disgusting measures—because Lathan wants access to the unlimited funds I have at my disposal. Ten million is the kind of change you find in my couch cushions, if you get my meaning.”
He runs a finger over his lips. “Fifteen and you have a deal.”
“Twenty if you get me to Halo,” I go on, and a grin spreads over his lips.
“Done.”
He buttons his jeans back up, and he checks over his shoulder before pulling out a knife. I try to stay composed even as I stare at that knife.
When he bends and starts cutting my legs free, I blow out a breath of relief. He quickly moves to my hands, talking quietly as he frees them.
“Lathan will talk to Nicholas for at least an hour, filling him in on the various drops. He doesn’t let anyone handle that part of the business. And Nicholas and his club will be all over the front yard. Once we get to the top of the stairs, we’ll creep out the back. You have to stay silent.”
My hands get freed, and I alternate between my wrists as I rub feeling back into them.
“I want the money wired to me by the time we reach Halo,” he adds.
“Not a problem, but I won’t connect the full funds until I’m safely away from your vehicle. I’ll only give you half until then.”
He looks at me skeptically.
“I’m not the one who is untrustworthy. You came down here to do terrible things, and I’m paying for my freedom. Keep that in mind.”
Shrugging like that makes sense, he turns his back and moves toward the door.
Fingertips throbbing, I stand and grab another bottle of water, guzzling it as he goes to peek out the door.
He gestures for me to follow, and I do, putting the bottle down, even though I’m still thirsty.
I stay close to his back as we creep up the stairs, but as soon as he opens that door, a gunshot sounds, nearly deafening me, and I swallow down any sound that tries to escape me as something wet splatters against my face.
I look up, seeing a gross hole all the way through Garren’s head, as he slowly starts to collapse. I barely dodge his body in time as he starts rolling down the stairs, and I look up to find my brother blowing the end of the gun like it’s an old Western movie.
“Good help is so hard to find when your sister can pay them more than you,” he says on an exasperated sigh. “Guess I’ll just have to torture you myself. Obviously I’ll use different methods, since I’m not quite that fucking sick.”
I cling to the railing, wondering if he’d have the balls to shoot me and risk killing me before he could get the info. Dead sounds better than tortured, so I risk it.
With one hard lunge, I tackle Lathan to the ground, surprising the hell out of him. He cries out in pain when my knee slams into his balls with all the force I can muster, and I knock the gun away before pushing up and taking off running toward the back door, bending and scooping up the gun on my way. I never slow down long enough to try and shoot behind me, too worried I’ll miss and end up shot instead.
“Fucking stop her!” Lathan shouts through the strain.
I hear what sounds like chairs scraping the floor and shit crashing to the ground before thunderous footsteps start chasing. I practically crash through the back door, running as hard as I can toward the small canyon-like thing I can barely make out under the moonlight.
Gunshots ringing out from behind have me dropping to my knees immediately and then belly-crawling as fast as I can.
“Stop fucking shooting!” I hear Lathan roar. “If I wanted her dead, she’d already be dead! Get her!”
With that bit of assurance, I leap to my feet and start barreling ahead once again.
Bet those fuckers chasing me aren’t making fun of all my skating now—after building up my leg muscles and stamina. They might still catch me, but I’m going to make them work for it.
CHAPTER 37
AXLE
“Meet me out front in five,” Sarah says, a strange look on her face as she walks by me.
“Okay, why?” I ask, but she doesn’t answer before slipping out the back.
Shaking my head, I take a long drag off my drink, then lean back in my chair as I watch the TV from our surveillance on Lathan’s place. Sarah already returned from her solo mission.
Lathan hasn’t appeared even once.
Scratching my jaw, I take in the scene. No cars have been in or out, but the wide doors open often. There’s nothing but cars in there. No loads of drugs stashed in the corner like the last time I was there.
This isn’t where Lathan is. But for some damn reason, he’s trying to make someone think he’s there. He has so many enemies and shady alliances that there’s no telling who he’s setting up.
I glance down, realizing it’s been exactly five minutes, and I walk toward the door. Reflexively, my gaze flicks toward the camera, and I pause.
The neon yellow pole has been moved. Why? Because that pole stays in the only blind spot on the camera. It’s bright yellow, so that it’s noticed if it’s ever moved.
Just the tip of the pole is in view of the camera where someone smooth thought they’d be smarter.
Fucking Sarah.
She’d better not let whoever this fucker is kill me.
Or even shoot at me, for that matter.
Obviously, she saw the pole first.
Cursing, I reach behind the bar and grab the trash, giving myself an excuse to go out. Plus, a bagful of mostly bottles doubles as a weapon, if necessary.
“What’s going on?” Dash asks, eyebrows arched.
I never take out the trash. That’s for prospects.
I gesture for him to hang back, and he mutters a curse before drawing his gun and moving out of sight from the door.
As I toss the bag over my shoulder and shove through the door, I force myself not to look around.
The barrel of a gun is quickly jammed into the back of my head, and I consider killing Sarah with my bare hands just as soon as I survive this.
“Six days ago, Maya Black left this club in tears,” a man says, confusing the hell out of me and stiffening my spine at the same time. “She never said why. She wouldn’t talk about it at all. I let it go, because she was safe and didn’t seem hurt in any way.”
The gun digs a little deeper into the back of my skull, and I resist the urge to fight out of this before he tells me what the hell he’s saying about Maya.
“Two days ago, she was skating in her personal, private, and very secure rink. Suddenly she’s missing, and the only thing I can figure out is this club had something to do with it,” he bites out.
My stomach lurches, and I spin hard and fast, grabbing his wrist and turning the gun on him before he can adjust. He stumbles back, about to reach for a second gun, when Sarah is suddenly there, a gun to the back of his head.
<
br /> He closes his eyes before blowing out a breath, and I take in the fact he’s a beast of a man. A man who looks like he hasn’t slept in too long.
“Sorry, Smitty. Don’t go shooting Maya’s boyfriend, or she might just cut you a new asshole,” Sarah says, sounding overly enthusiastic. “And since I kind of want to get my boyfriend back, I can’t allow any of his friends to go dying.”
Her attention is solely focused on the side of his face as she walks around him, her gun inches from his skull—which is how you should hold a gun on someone instead of pressed against the skin.
But this guy is Smitty, apparently. And he’s old school.
He glares daggers at Sarah until she comes completely into focus. Then he pales.
Sarah leans sideways and stage-whispers, “Think he just realized who I am.”
Smitty swallows, and his face is a stone mask again. “You know who I am, and you know I don’t travel alone,” he tells her.
“You know who I am, and I would have noticed an entire horde of you in a city where I’m watching everything going on,” she says.
“Both of you shut the fuck up unless you’re talking about what the hell you meant about Maya missing,” I say, lifting his own gun toward him.
He narrows his eyes at me. “I haven’t slept since she went missing. My wife was talking to her one minute, and she said John had eyes on her. She went to her car and returned, only to find them both missing. She immediately called me, because Maya wouldn’t leave when she expected her back. My wife worries often for Maya, but I take each call seriously.”
“Cut the fucking story in half and tell me who took her,” I growl, moving closer.
“I thought it had to be you. No one is seen on the cameras. They were disabled minutes after my wife walked out. John was found dead in an elevator. You’re the only ones I could accuse besides Lathan. And I wanted it to be you.”
The tears teetering on his eyes and his lip wavering as he stares at us has me lowering the gun.
“I need to know everything. Now. Because I sure as fuck didn’t take her, but I am going after her. Is it just you?”
He shakes his head, and suddenly seven guys on each side turn the corners and start approaching us with guns trained on our bodies.