HURRICANE (Beasts of Prey Book 2)

by LC Lehesaho

  Side by side, whatever it takes.

  The weight on my chest grows heavier as I come to realize I can't do anything about it. I can't warn Tiger in any way. He is living in a minefield and doesn't even know it.

  When I don't answer anything, Crusador narrows his eyes to slits. "I've given you numerous chances to tell me what I want, so Anthony's death will be in your hands. How does it feel? Knowing you caused this?"

  "Fuck. You." I squeeze my fists tighter, sinking my nails into my palms to keep me in control, not showing my pain.

  Not showing how those words make me feel like I swallowed broken pieces of glass, tearing me open from the inside.

  Like I expected, Joe's backhand collides with the same cheek again, causing my head to knock to the wall behind me. My eyes go blurry, and burning pain reverberates through me. A strangled gasp escapes from my mouth from it and I can feel my eyes shimmering.

  Not from physical pain.

  I would die for you.

  I can't let him live through his vow. I need to get the fuck out of this place. The problem is I don't even know where this is. All I've seen is this basement where I spent days with Joe, and then—

  The door opens, telling me it's eight o'clock in the evening. Every day at the same time.

  "Levi, precise as always," Crusador says, slapping a hand to his knee before pushing himself off the armchair.

  The fucking psychopath nods to his boss and takes his place beside the door, leaning on the wall. He crosses one ankle over the other, those baby blue eyes on me. Levi is wearing a plain white T-shirt and light jeans with black combat boots. The latter is the only thing that has changed in his attire after he revealed his true identity. Joe walks to the door, tosses Levi the keys from his pocket, and opens the door for Crusador.

  Silas stops at the threshold, looking over his shoulder at me. "How long do you think it will take before Anthony is dead? I place my bets for tomorrow."

  At that, he walks out without waiting for an answer, Joe right behind him.

  I try to find my happy place, a memory of us together. Tiger's arms around me. Bringing back his scent to my senses. Rooting him into my retinas and my mind, so I can survive the night and wake up with the same amount of mental health I possess in this moment. Not much, but even more so, I don’t want to lose the last pieces of it.

  Because I know what's going to happen now. The last two weeks have been systematic.

  The days in the torture chamber with Joe, and the nights in a different kind of torture chamber.

  With Levi.

  Even though he drugs me every time before he releases me from the wall, I know what he does to me after carrying me to the room where he keeps me with him. The whispers in the haze. Intrusive hands groping my body. The fog in my mind thickens as he goes on, the drugs blurring the reality.

  I don't let myself think about it. I don't want to know.

  All I know is I will cut him to pieces when I get out of here. First, I need to find out how the fuck do I do that before Tiger gets hurt.

  When the door is shut, Levi lets out an exaggerated sigh.

  "Darling, you should give up. This isn’t healthy for you."

  I glare at him. "Healthy? Healthy? You sick fuck! None of this is healthy! You motherfuckers kidnapped me, torture me, and what fucking else, and you tell me this isn't healthy?"

  My rage entwines with fear, and pictures of Tiger and me flash in my mind. The strangling feeling in my throat forces me to swallow, and only then do I realize the tears streaming down my face. My stomach turns to knots when all the emotions burst out after holding them inside all day.

  Levi scrubs a hand over his face and walks to me. I force myself not to twitch as he lifts his hand and brushes the loose strands off my face. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction that he can think I'm scared of him.

  Fuck him.

  Fuck them all.

  Still, cold shivers run down my spine, and my breath catches from his touch.

  The pain Joe causes me is nothing compared to this. Beat me, fine. Cut me, fine. Drown me, fine. But this? Levi has no right to touch me there. Use me like a fucking doll. It's not fucking okay.

  I grit my teeth as I stare straight into his eyes while his fingers caress my cheek. That's the worst—he is gentle. Even when I'm at the edge of consciousness every time he's drugged me, his hands are soft.

  It's fucked up.

  "Are you hungry?" he asks, eyes roaming over my body. "You need a bath."

  "Fuck you and your fucking baths!" I growl, batting my lashes to keep the moistness in.

  I need to get out. I need to warn Tiger.

  A pair of bright eyes come up to meet mine, and Levi tilts his head. "You've never cried here before. Are you crying ‘cause of him?"

  I don't answer him. He doesn't have a right to talk about Tiger. No fucking right.

  Levi wipes my tears away. "Can you keep a secret, darling?"

  Fuck you.

  He runs his thumb on my jaw, caressing, and ignores that I don't say shit. "Tiger didn't go back home."

  My eyes widen, and my heart skyrockets. "What?"

  "Our source from the inside told us he never came back home." An amused smile spreads over Levi’s face. "He is out there looking for you and leaves a trail of bodies behind him. Silas's men haven't been able to catch him, so he needs someone to take him out so he’ll stop killing our guys. That's why he sent the picture to your daddy. Leo will do our job for us."

  "Tiger didn't go home at all?" I try to think, pull strings together, and find answers. If he—

  "No, he didn't. Your daddy has no idea where this loose cannon is roaming," Levi answers, his fingers moving now to my neck. Sliding back and forth. I want to spit in his fucking face, but I don't dare. I need more information. Usually, he doesn't tell me anything about what's going on outside.

  "Silas thinks Dad will find Tiger faster than him?" I ask, even though I know the answer.

  He nods. "I'm sure those pictures were enough motivation."

  I think so too.

  But it means Tiger has time, because if he hasn't gone home, he doesn't want to be found, and Tiger is smart. Really, really smart. Probably thrown his phone away and abandoned the Explorer. It’ll take time even for Dad to find him.

  I still have time to get out.

  Levi's other hand takes something out of his back pocket, and a cold sweat breaks out from my neck.

  "Please, don't do this." My mouth goes dry as I watch the syringe in his hand as he removes the cap. "Levi... please, don't."

  "Darling..." he whispers, taking hold of my jaw and turns my head to the side, no matter how hard I wiggle and buckle against my shackles. No matter how much I beg him not to do it, the syringe still comes to my neck. "This stings only a little. Then everything will be okay again."

  It stings more than just a little, but not long, and the fluffiness starts to fill my body. The familiar haze cocoons me and immobilizes me from fighting him. My head feels heavy. So. Heavy.

  Through half-masked lids, I see Levi crouching in front of me, opening the shackles from my ankles, and I want to kick him to the face.

  But it's not happening.

  My legs won't obey. They're practically bolted to the floor—so fucking heavy.

  When he releases me from the wall, my body is already completely limp, and he catches me, lifting me in his arms.

  With the last strings of awareness, I find Tiger from my mind. Sink into my memories and dream about us together.

  I love you forever.

  CHAPTER THREE

  "Who the fuck do you think you are?" the brat in a new Mercedes scorns as he slides the window down from the driver's door. There's only one person in the car with him—another frat boy who tries to act cool with his buddy.

  I know we're in the middle of traffic, but right now, the last fuck I gave blew out to the sky.

  "It's not about who I am, dickwad." I grab his fancy coat, loading my fist back at the sa
me time, and release it straight to his face. "It's about who the fuck do you think you are."

  His friend barks from the passenger's side, fumbling a phone in his hand, then pointing it towards me. Seriously?

  Fucking idiot.

  Keeping hold on the fancy boy's collar, I lean closer and reach inside the car, snatching the phone from his hands.

  "You fucking losers," I growl as I smash the screen on the steering wheel, then throw it straight to the guy's pale face who yelps like a fucking bitch.

  "Stop! I call the police!" a woman's terrified yell comes from the other side of the road.

  I push the bleeding fuckboy out of my hands and turn around. The Citizen of the Year keeps the phone to her ear and waves her hand toward me, babbling hurriedly into the phone. I already take a step toward her, but then the baby carriage beside her catches my attention.

  Well, fuck this.

  Cursing in my mind, I stride back to the BMW and jump in. I know I made a mistake.

  Breathe. Just fucking breathe.

  I take off without wasting time and drive around the city to get myself in order. Luckily, I don't run into cops because it would make everything way harder. Before, it wouldn't have mattered so much, but now? I can't get fucking arrested.

  It'd be pretty hard to try to find Cobra from behind bars.

  I know that every minute in there, wherever they keep her, is damaging her more—ruining her. Every fucking second. Crusador will do anything to make her break. My chest hurts even from the thought of what she is going through right now. While I'm here, grip slipping from my hands, and beating the shit out of people who don't matter at all. Brats, who don’t get me closer to her. Killing the right people does, or that's what I keep telling myself.

  I can't break under pressure, because if I do... she can too. Her seat is hotter than mine at the moment.

  We can't let them break us.

  Parking outside of Hamlet's, I grab my phone, typing the only number I've been calling for these past two weeks. After a few beeps, the line opens up.

  "Where have you been? I've been calling you, bro," Puma's rushed voice comes to my ear.

  "Well, what the fuck do you think?" I growl an answer, the familiar anger replacing every other feeling. It's good. "Gathering information, idiot."

  Puma blows out a heavy sigh. Or smoke, knowing him. "We're in the same boat—"

  "Oh, don't even think about saying that shit. You're fucking floating on a paddle board on a sunny beach smoking a blunt while I've been trying to save Titanic." I squeeze my hand around the steering wheel, wishing it was his throat. "Tell me, what are you doing right now? Smoking and feeling sorry for yourself? Let me guess, in her loft, right? Well, you know what, bro. That's not gonna help her, so get yourself together and be a fucking brother. Your sister needs you. Dig your fucking head out of your ass and stop being a victim."

  For a while, the line stays quiet, and I don't blame him. My rage crosses the borders that are out of my control, and when it happens, I'm not a fucking nice guy—not even for him. If I don't have her... I have no reason to get along with anyone. Cobra is the reason why I fucking breathe.

  Puma is closest to me after her, but he is still a lightyear behind.

  One part of me knows I'm rude, but ninety-nine percent of me doesn't care.

  Still, that one percent keeps pushing me. I fill my lungs through my nose, letting the air out very slowly, trying to find even a hint of peace out of me. "I need you too. Check out one address for me. I'll text it to you, okay?"

  "Yeah, I'll check it." His strangled tone comes through the lines, and I feel a sting in my heart. In some way, we are in the same boat.

  I suppress my feelings and focus on the mission. "It's a chick, who's been dating one of Crusador's drivers. The guy I asked questions earlier didn't know the driver's address or full name, but he said this chick visits there all the time. So, follow her."

  "You know it'd be better if you were here, and we'd all work together on this," Puma says quietly.

  He is testing my patience, just like he's been doing the past weeks. I take a look around the parking lot, my shoulders rising and falling from the heavy breathing. "Have you told anyone about me? That we've been talking?" I ask him through gritted teeth. I swear to—

  "No, I haven't. But it doesn't mean I don’t want to. It's not safe to do those things alone. You're not a superhero, man."

  I let out a sarcastic laugh. "Who said I want to be a hero? A little reminder, bro. I'll burn the whole fucking Shangri-la and the cities around it down if I don't find her in time. How heroic does that sound to you?"

  I hear him dragging in smoke, even the sizzling sound of the cherry of his joint comes through the line. Then it stops. "I know," he says, voice breathless as he keeps the smoke in. "Just don't get killed in the process. It won't help us to find her."

  "I would never leave her behind, so no, I'm not going to die."

  "Keep your phone close, I’ll call you when I get something," Puma breathes out. "And I love you, dude. I can't lose you too. I… I miss her so fucking much."

  I lean back, press my knuckles to my mouth, and try to deal with the paralyzing pain that courses through my veins. My feelings are trying to tackle me, but I can't let it happen. I need to stay strong.

  For her.

  "I'll text you the address. Call me," I retort, and hang up before he has time to start mentoring me about how I should handle things. Like he is doing it any better than me. Yeah, laying on Cobra's couch and getting high are the things that will get her back, sure.

  ~

  The skinny boy at the stage wipes his sweat-drenched hair from his face, his hands slightly shaky. His voice sounds like someone squeezes his balls in an iron-grip as he stutters his poem to the crowd.

  I let my eyes roam over the tables, taking a gulp of my Grey Goose. Tonight is clearly not the night for Crusador's men are meeting here. Everyone here looks like they are ripped from an indie movie. With my black attire, bandana on my neck, and black cap on, I am the one who stands out from the crowd.

  The boy keeps reading his poem, and I trail my eyes back to him. I know Cobra would've loved it—she enjoys all kinds of art. Almost every time I'm painting or drawing, she hangs around and watches me do it. It's the same with books. She never even tries to create anything herself; she’d rather enjoy the things other people do. It's one of the things which makes us click. I find peace when I let it all out with a paintbrush, and she finds her harmony while watching me do it.

  I need her back.

  This club was a dead end, so I hope to Satan Puma has better success. If he gets himself off the fucking couch. He better or I’ll make him regret it. This is his fucking fault for pushing Cobra to date that psycho.

  Crusador's driver must know where he is hiding, so we need to make the driver talk. Crusador has been extremely careful, so even when I've turned over every rock in the city, I haven't gotten any closer to Cobra yet. Not even a single one of his employees knew each other's last names. Clever, but for me? Not so much. I've been hitting one dead end after another.

  If we'd be in Shangri-la, things would be easier, but here in Preston? This is not our city. I'm still sure this is the city where Crusador keeps Cobra because he lives here, I just don't know where. His every business is focused within this city. It all started from Navarro's place, so after that, I went through every gas station in the area and watched their surveillance cameras. I found a trail to one of his men, and then guy after guy, questioning people, has led me here with empty hands.

  The crowd applauds, and I realize the boy finished, rushing away from the stage. He dodges the people at the tables, hurrying his way out. I gulp the rest of my drink down and follow him outside.

  "Hey," I call out for him, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The boy takes a look over his shoulder, almost flinching on the sidewalk. Quickly he glances around like making sure there is nobody else. "Yeah, I was talking to you."

&
nbsp; "M-me?" he asks, hugging his notebook to his chest.

  "You." I nod, taking a drag of smoke. "That was good shit you pulled back there. Just wanted to say..." I try to think of what Cobra would say to him. "Well, that took balls to read your poem out loud. Good job."

  Not exactly what she would've said.

  He looks like I hit him with a baseball bat and slowly, and very carefully, he looks up and down at me. "T-thank y-you." I can see his back straightening a little and chest rising like I just made him proud. I hope I did—that's what I tried to do. That's what she would've done. Her big heart always wanted to make even stranger's day a little bit better.

  I give the geek a nod. "Yeah, so keep it up." At that, I turn around and leave him wondering.

  Not in a million years, would I have said those things if she'd been here. Cobra would've said it herself. Complimented the shit out of the guy to lift his self-esteem. Now...

  It felt important to say it.

  The pressure behind my eyes grows as I walk towards the BMW, and I have to fight to keep myself breathing.

  I will get her back.

  I stop beside the driver's door, closing my eyes and rubbing my temples. Finding the right mental state from my thundering mind.

  "Tiger Hayes?" a low male voice asks, and I spin around.

  Fuck me.

  Two big guys observe me, one guy holding a gun, and the other one holding handcuffs. But the guy with the gun also has a badge in the air—and there's a cop car behind them. How did I not notice this? Fuck.

  Letting out a sigh, I tilt my head, pondering my options. "Yeah?"

  "You're under arrest." The man with the cuffs steps towards me, and I know I'm fucked. "Put your hands behind your head."

  CHAPTER FOUR

  "He should be here in ten minutes."

  "Good, I don't wanna spend my whole fucking night sitting here."

  "What do you think he's gonna do with the guy?"

  "The fuck should I know. Nor do I care. I get paid for delivering this Punisher to him, and when I get the money, he's not my problem anymore."