by Nicole Snow
The other man smiled. I didn't resist as they threw me against it, lifting my hands high above my head, waiting to get this over with.
Hell, maybe they weren't too far off. I had to be crazy to go along with this without fear turning my blood cold, right?
I always thought a person under the gun just stopped caring in the mysteries and movies. If I'd reached that stage...then I might as well start digging my own grave.
Tony took his sweet time rubbing his hands up and down my body. Closing my eyes, I waited for the disgusting sideshow to pass, still leaning on the wall when their hands were finally off me.
“She's clean,” Franco said reluctantly. “Think I should check upstairs? See if she's got a stash? We've seen these rich fucks lose it before. Usually because they're popping pills or sniffing powder.”
“Fuck that. Can't be drugs with this one. She's too fucking smart for that, unless something's really changed.” Tony grabbed me by my wrists and spun me around, throwing his weight in as he pinned me to the wall. “I'll tell ya what's gonna happen, peach. You're taking us to every goddamned computer in this house. You'll unlock them, help us find what we need, and sit with us while we take a good, long look at what the fuck you've been doing.”
“But –“
“But nothing!” He shook me, spittle flying in my face. “You'll do everything I just said, or I'll get you on your knees right now and put a fucking bullet in your head. That's probably how it's gonna end anyway, but we're nice enough to give your pretty little face one more chance.”
I wasn't out of it enough to argue. They'd find out about my total coder's block as soon as they opened my programs and saw exactly nothing over the past week. And that was assuming they'd understand any of it, and didn't just decide to kill me anyway in their confusion.
“Okay,” I said, letting out a sigh.
Tony released me angrily, giving me a push with his hand. The gun replaced his fingers, pressed against my spine. They marched me into the kitchen like a proper prisoner, their eyes raging the entire time.
Men like this didn't just kill. If they decided to murder me, they'd probably take their pleasure first, making sure I suffered for going against the Brotherhood.
I wished I hadn't lied to Dusty about hiring the bodyguard after Joker's boy disappeared. I'd given him a name I knew in Sterner security, and the background check came out clean. I hadn't actually hired the man, knowing he'd be a goner when something like tonight finally happened, but at least I wouldn't be dying alone if I'd given him the job.
God, what am I saying? I wanted to kick myself for driving deeper into crazy town, but I was too busy opening my laptop, pulling up the files that would seal my doom.
Tony snatched the computer away from me, nearly breaking it when it banged on the counter's edge. “This it?”
“Yeah. It's the only thing I use. My old desktop crapped out a few months ago. You can send Franco down to check the hard drive if you don't believe me.”
The two men shared a look. Tony clenched his teeth, taking a seat at the breakfast bar before he said anything.
“I don't trust anything this bitch says or does. Go find that fucking thing, pull it out, and we'll bring the data home with us.” Tony grabbed my neck, pinching it tight while he worked the keyboard with one hand.
Franco took off, wandering into my office downstairs. Several minutes later, I heard things breaking, and knew he wasn't going to spare anything while he pried open my poor dead computer.
I stood awkwardly next to Tony, watching his frustration mount as he quickly opened and closed documents, comparing them to the program I used for working on the app. Or trying to, anyway.
“Explain this shit,” he said, stuffing a greasy finger against a line of code I'd highlighted in red on the screen.
Small satisfaction they still needed me to figure any of this out. Maybe that would delay hot lead going through my skull, just for a little while.
“That's me thinking to myself, the part I've been trying to figure out. At first, I thought I might be able to cloak the transactions going to your accounts, just ghost them so they weren't part of anything visible at all. But as you can see from this line, it ain't so simple.” I paused, pointing at the screen. “Reworking that will mess with the payment system where the paid subscriptions run each billing period. That means I have to take down the whole thing, give it a whole new framework, or we're going to have our asses hanging out for any competitor to stumble on the money laundering scheme. Trouble is, that also means building a new billing system for subscribers, and it won't run nearly as smooth with all this extra junk up in it.”
Tony angrily scrolled through everything, pretending he understood it, for several more minutes. Then he slammed my laptop shut and pushed it away from him, sending it spinning across the counter.
“There's no fucking point to laundering more money if this thing comes down and causes a stink with its real customers. We can't lose business trying to cover our tracks.”
“And we would,” I snapped. “You don't know how addicted people get to these things. If my app isn't there anymore to play matchmaker, give them something to swipe left or right, they'll move onto the next big thing. And that means a lot less money for both of us. It's all momentum, Tony.”
“Fuck you, bitch. I'm not stupid. It's your debt. Your goddamned job to figure this out!” He slammed his gun down on the counter, slicking back his thin dark hair one more time. “Christ. Dom said you were some kinda wonder kid with this technical bullshit. I can't believe he fucked up here, seeing more than just a kid.”
Inwardly, I bristled. If only I kept the knife rack on this side of the kitchen, I might've used my anger to pull my sharpest blade, slamming it into his throat before he knew what hit him.
But that wouldn't stop Franco downstairs. I'd never win a gun fight, considering I'd passed on the range like an idiot every time Huck offered to take me.
Another missed opportunity. One more gut-wrenching regret to twist my stomach in knots during what might've been the start of my life flashing before my eyes.
Franco came up a minute later, slamming my PC's guts on the counter, next to my battered laptop. “Should we gather up all this shit and her, take them both somewhere we can get some real answers?”
Tony looked at his henchman, frustration growing in his dark eyes. “Fuck, I don't know. I need to call Dom.”
I sat like a stone while he made the call. Franco pulled a bottle of wine from my rack and pulled the cork with his switchblade, taking a long drag straight from the bottle.
My stomach turned over. I remembered the last time I'd drunk wine straight from the bottle with Dusty, and now we might never get that chance again.
Christ, my last contact with him might be the lying text I sent that morning.
After I disappeared, he'd come for me. I imagined him breaking into this empty house by himself.
He'd realize I was missing if I didn't respond for several days. He'd bring the club in on it, and they'd mount a full search. But they wouldn't find me in time if the two bastards occupying my kitchen had anything to say about it.
Plenty of girls in the club had wound up captured, and lived to tell the tale. Those were other biker gangs, though. The Sicilians were pros, never as sloppy as the Deadhands MC or the Atlanta Torches.
Odds were, I'd wind up a missing person. An empty question mark haunting everyone I'd ever cared about for the rest of their lives.
“Yeah...yeah, boss. You got it. Sure, I'll tell the fucking cunt.” Tony nodded into the phone pressed against his ear. Franco gulped more wine loudly, the sickening smack of his lips bringing me back to earth. “Forget about it. We'll do what we can here, whatever we can fix, so you don't have to see her lazy ass again.”
Tony clapped his burner phone shut. He turned around, eyeballing me and Franco. “Good news and bad news. Boss says we're supposed to keep this bitch here, and put her to work. Rough her up any way we need to until she figure
s shit out.”
Franco grinned while my heart sank. “Best fucking news I heard all day, Tony. What's the bad?”
“We've got five hours.”
“Five hours?” I cut in. “That isn't even enough time to pull down the site without major errors in backup, much less –“
“I said, five fucking hours!” Tony roared, running to me, shoving the cold gun against my temple. “Five hours, bitch. Count 'em. If you're still blue balling us without any answers by two AM, you can forget about paying back your debts or taking your next breath. Dom says you're more trouble than you're worth, and the contract's terminated. We'll take down your fucking site, empty this place out, and dump your body off in the mountains.”
That fear I'd sat on all evening caught up to me. I felt it in the gun's cold steel, his finger poised on the trigger, ready to end my life if I so much as sneezed at the wrong second.
It tugged at my throat, jerked me toward the black pit swallowing up my future, whispering in my ear.
Time to pay your debts for real, trailer trash. Did you really think you'd take off with your money, your man, your success?
People like you don't make it. They make bad moves and trip all over themselves when they try to claw their way up.
You're going to die alone with money that was never yours. Oh, and fuck your broken heart, too.
“What the fuck's the matter?” Tony whispered, tracing the gun along the tears I'd suppressed, spilling down my cheeks. “Easy, peach, before you get too upset. We're doing you a big goddamned favor, giving you this chance to sort things out. I think you oughta stop being so fucking selfish, and give us something back. Fix this, darling, and we won't have to end your life.”
Darlin'. I heard Dust's voice in my head when I reached up and wiped my tears. Tony lowered the gun as I reached for my laptop, and opened the screen, praying the bastard hadn't cracked it while he'd tossed it around.
It was still in one piece. Lucky me.
Everything inside me, that's what was shattered, and it didn't matter worth a damn.
I didn't have a miracle on its way to save me. And I'd lied away the only hero who might.
This was up to me. I had to move my fingers, work my brain, and do everything I could to save myself.
I took a deep breath, and tried to focus. Okay.
Step one – pretending the problem staring me in the face wasn't a completely hopeless shortcut to my grave.
I took a break near midnight. No closer to a solution than I'd been several hours ago, before they'd shown up and pointed a gun in my face.
They let me take a walk through the house for fresh air. Standing in front of my screen, I stared into the darkness, listening to the icy silence. Autumn meant a slow creeping decline for the bugs, the frogs, everything that reminded a person the world was still alive at night.
My heart clenched. I didn't really know why. Maybe because I thought I'd die without even nature's warmth to comfort me, much less anyone I ever cared about.
I really fucking regretted not going to the wedding now. At least if they'd burst in and killed me later, I would've had one last sweet memory to hold onto. One more round of laughter with my brother and his wife, a few more drinks with friends, a couple more fiery kisses from the man I'd never see again.
Or would I?
Something moved in the distance. When I saw the faint headlight switch off next to my gate, I reached up, rubbing my eyes.
Stop. You're hallucinating, I told myself.
I'd read about it before in a hundred true crime stories. When a person believes they're backed into a corner, they'll hang onto any hope, however crazy, wrong, or impossible.
Except it wasn't just my imagination this time. Something heavy dropped into the bushes off to the side a second later, far from the gate. My heart began racing.
It couldn't be Dusty. And Jesus, if it was him, and he hadn't seen their car...he had no clue what kind of mess he'd wandered into.
I gripped the door tightly, peeling it open a crack, straining my ears. I wished they'd tell me if this was real, or if I'd just fallen for the biggest case of wishful thinking ever.
“Hurry up. We need you back at the keyboard,” Franco's nasty voice whispered behind me, making me jump. “Tony says you've had your break long enough.”
Turning slowly to face him, I looked him dead in his evil eyes, wondering if my glance betrayed anything.
My shirt caught his blood when half his face exploded a second later, spattering me in sudden red mist.
Shock. Awe. Horror.
Franco stood for about two more seconds, as if his body hadn't realized he'd just taken a hole through the head, and then dropped swiftly at my feet.
“The fuck was that falling out there?” Tony yelled from the hallway.
I turned back to the door, my knees shaking, only catching a quick glimpse of the dark, shadowy figure outside before my knees went into overdrive. I hadn't run so hard since cross country senior year. Every muscle fiber in my body came alive, knew this was my last chance, knew I had to get the hell away from the dead man before his friend caught up.
“Sonofafuckingbitch!” Tony slurred one long curse through the screen, hurled it open behind me, and whipped out his gun.
“Roll!” Dusty's voice roared. He hit the ground, reaching for me several feet away, throwing his entire weight into his legs to crawl.
He tackled my knees, pushing me onto my butt, just in time to dodge before the gunshots exploded in a messy circle around us. Grass and dirt flew high into the air, raining down against my face.
Dust crouched on one knee, his gun drawn, holding my face against the earth with his other hand. Protecting me.
What happened next was in God's hands. I pressed my face deeper into the soft, cool grass, coiling into a fetal position, expecting to feel hot lead rip through my body any second. And that was if I didn't catch a bullet through my brain or heart first, making sure I wouldn't feel anything ever again.
Three more shots in loud succession. So fast, so angry, so deafening I couldn't tell who fired.
After the fourth shot, there was another sound. Something hit the ground, falling onto the bushes next to the door with a whoosh. Dusty's hand wasn't tangled in my hair anymore.
Slowly, I turned, halfway covering my eyes before I forced myself to look up. Dusty dashed several yards in seconds. He stood over the bushes, his lips peeled back in a hateful grin, gun aimed at the ground.
Tony's voice was faint, muffled. I couldn't understand anything.
“I ain't here to listen to you beg after you almost offed my girl, motherfucker. Shut up. Whine to Old Scratch when he meets you in the fuckin' fire.” Dusty's words were clear and savage.
Tony screamed for half a second before the last loud shot silenced him forever. Dust climbed over his body, shaking one of the bushes. He had his phone in his hand before I even got up.
“Get every prospect on duty out here right now. I need backup. No, I ain't ruining Joker and Skin's honeymoon for this. Just some fuckin' trash for the night crew to pickup. You heard me, kid.” He shoved his phone back into his pocket, staring angrily at the dead man in the bushes while he pulled out his pipe.
“Jesus, Dusty. It's a miracle. If you'd showed up a second later, I might not be –“
“Work,” he snapped, cutting me off. The sparks centered in his grey eyes glowed like steel knives catching light. “You told me work was the reason you weren't at the wedding. Hannah, what kind of fuckin' work are you doing when I show up here, and have to kill two assholes before they kill you?”
I froze, my mouth hanging open.
Words wouldn't come. Being dead suddenly didn't seem half bad compared to being caught in this stupid, reckless lie.
“Dusty...Daniel...I fucked up.” I closed my eyes, wondering if using his real name would soften him.
“Darlin', you don't know the half of it.”
“No, I do. Let's go inside. I'll tell you everything.”
“Better be the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the bald fuckin' truth this time around. If I think you're hiding so much as what you ate for breakfast this morning, I will pull down your panties, throw you over my lap, and spank you 'til you scream. Got it?”
I did, shuddering. The time for denial ended. It would've be suicide to do anything else with this crazy, beautiful bastard who'd just killed two monsters, and saved my life. He still turned me on, too.
Whether it was just his crude promises or raw adrenaline humming in my system, my panties were soaked.
Amazing. Especially when I looked down at my collar, the same place he fixed his eyes, and I realized I was still wearing Franco's blood.
“Can I change first?” I asked, my eyes slowly meeting his. “Please, Dusty?”
“Do it fast. Put that fuckin' shirt in a bag, and hand it off to me when you're done. We can't leave any missing pieces around when my boys show up to clean this mess.” Dust walked several steps past me. He ripped open the screen door, holding it and waiting while I walked past, into my home, now freed from its evil occupiers.
I ran upstairs for a quick change, careful to throw the bloody shirt into the bathroom trash, and then pull the whole thing out. I'd solved a lot of problems in my life, but I never thought I'd be dealing with accessory to murder, even if it was justified self-defense.
My eyes were red in the mirror. Too many tears, too much stress, and now they held a thousand questions.
Was there any coming back from something like this?
Sure, Dusty saved my life. I'd be grateful, no matter what happened. But he'd also picked me up and thrown me into uncharted waters.
Time to sink or swim. If I couldn't adapt, learn to forgive, and keep my head up, a lot more people were going to die.
Dom was still out there. He'd come for me when he found out what happened to his men, and he'd be after the club, too.
Face, meet palm. Everything I lied my ass off to protect was exposed.