She started wailing. At the top of her lungs. Unapologetically. She screamed about how it wasn't her fault, how she had nothing to do with any of this. She called Jasper an asshole and a dickwad and any other vaguely profane name that came to mind. She screamed at them for a while until her voice grew hoarse and her insults gradually devolved into sobbing.
And she did not sob quietly. No, she sobbed loudly, the kind of sobs interrupted by hiccups and hyperventilation. She whined and whimpered and moaned intermittently between her sobs, trying to get some reaction out of the two men stationed with her.
One of them seemed intent on looking everywhere but directly at her. The other rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath about getting stuck with “shit detail.”
Guard number two turned back to him, smirking. “Shouldn’t have called Jasper’s nephew a spoiled fatass, huh?”
The first guard’s brow crumpled in a look of irritation. “So what did you do to get stuck guarding this bitch, hmm?”
The second shrugged. “I just don’t cry and pitch a fit any time I get an assignment I don’t like.”
The first guard’s scowl deepened, but he didn’t respond, and they lapsed back into silence.
She supposed she was lucky that neither seemed too hot under the collar, and that her antics didn’t piss them off immediately. They were, after all, two enforcers working for a ruthless drug lord. She couldn't expect them to have many qualms about beating the hell out of her just to shut her up.
If that had been the case, she would have stopped immediately. She didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of actually pulling this off, but she wasn't about to invite any kind of violence against her. She wasn't willing to suffer for no reason, not when her death seemed so imminent and inevitable. And being beaten to a pulp wasn't going to help her get away any faster, that was certain.
But luckily they either had orders to keep their hands off her, or they really didn't care all that much about all the noise she was making.
Either way, her ploy was turning out to be useless. All it had accomplished was causing her to lose her voice. That, and it had started her head pounding from all the tears and strain.
If they weren't going to try to calm her down, she thought, and give her an opportunity, then maybe she'd have to try a little harder.
If she could rock the chair, and cause it to tip over, maybe when they bent over to pick her back up, one of their phones would slip out. If she could just get her hands on it, maybe she could keep it hidden and wait for the right moment to try to get a message out to Alex.
It was one hell of a long shot, but what else did she have? She could sit around and wait, or she could try to get herself out of this.
She had never really been the type to sit around.
So she started to try to rock her chair. Both her guards were looking away for the moment, still trying to ignore her because of her sobbing, she guessed. Maybe it hadn't been a total waste of energy.
Ashleigh began shifting her weight from side to side, trying to build up enough momentum to topple over. It was working, even though she kept her movements subtle.
She could feel the legs of the chair lifting beneath her as she leaned to each side, tilting a little higher with each of her movements. At last she generated enough momentum to cause her to fall off to her right, taking the chair with her.
She felt her stomach lurch as she toppled over. She hit the ground hard, landing on her arm, crushing it beneath her weigh and the hard form of the chair. It hurt like hell. The impact caused a bright, hot wave of pain to wash through her arm and shoulder. She gritted her teeth against the sensation, trying to focus her attention on assessing how bad it was. It hadn’t been enough force to fracture or break anything, she was sure.
Between the chair and the ground, she'd have a few bruises. But it was worth it.
She waited for them to come over and set her back up. And waited. Minutes ticked by.
They were going to let her just lie there. Of course. Why would they care if she was uncomfortable?
She would have cried again, but after her desperate performance, she felt as if she had no tears left in her. She’d failed. She was out of options. Hell, it hadn’t even been that good of a plan in the first place. Just something she could do so she could feel like she was at least trying to get away.
But this was just one of those situations that she couldn’t fix herself. Like it or not, her last hope was Alex. And she would just have to pray that he could somehow keep his promise to her to make it right.
Chapter 23
Cobra
Zane paced back and forth on the sidewalk. Cobra watched him silently from his bike, fighting the urge to break something. He hated this. He wanted to check the time again, but he'd glanced at his phone just seconds ago and knew that more time had already passed than he would have liked. They had maybe twenty-five minutes left before Jasper's deadline.
Cobra had ridden with Zane, Axle, and Ajax down the deserted stretch of highway that led to the warehouse where Jasper was keeping Ashleigh. He'd told all three of them that he had to go alone, and that for his plan to work they'd have to hang behind and let him walk in there on his own.
They weren't taking it well. Especially Zane, who was convinced that it would be a blood betrayal if he let Cobra risk his neck like that.
"We're going with you," Zane announced for the third time. "There's no fucking way I'm lettin’ that asshole blow your brains out."
"He's not going to do that," Cobra replied through gritted teeth. He wanted to be on the road, but he needed to know that the guys—Zane especially—would listen to him and keep their distance. Bringing extra bodies into this was just asking for trouble, and if things went wrong, they would end up throwing their lives away for no reason at all.
"Jasper needs me alive, Cobra continued. He may think that Ashleigh knows where his stash is, but he's not one hundred percent sure. Which means that he's not about to risk blowing my brains out. As long as he's still looking for his drugs, I'm safe."
"You think you're safe," Zane retorted. He folded his arms over his chest. "Fuck, I don't like this at all. Why the hell did she have to go get grabbed? I thought you told us that you had her handled? Stupid bitch—"
Cobra was off his bike and at Zane's throat in an instant, dragging the smaller man up by the collar of his shirt. Cobra pressed his face close to Zane so that his eyes were just inches from his. So that Zane could see how serious he was.
"You don't talk about her like that. Ever."
Zane backed down immediately. "Sorry, man. I didn't mean it. It's just, you know..."
Cobra released Zane. "Going out on her own was a stupid move. I know. I'm sure Ash knows that now too. And sitting here talking about how stupid it was isn't going to change a damned thing, is it?"
Zane said nothing. "You're at least carryin’, right?" he asked after a moment.
"No. If I walk in there armed, that's just asking them to hurt Ash. And I'm not about to stand for that. Besides, what the hell can I do with one gun? Jasper's probably got himself surrounded by the best in his crew. I'd get maybe one shot off if I was lucky—"
"It only takes one shot to put the sucker in the ground," Zane cut in. "And if you cut the head off the snake, the body just flops around."
"We're talking about enforcers who get paid good money to fuck up anyone who messes with their employer or his business. Guys armed to the teeth who wouldn't have an income after I take out Jasper. Not some goddamn decapitated snake. We stick to the plan, you hear? You don't move near the place until you get my signal."
Zane still looked utterly unconvinced. He glanced over at Axle and Ajax, who stood by quietly, their faces absolutely neutral. Cobra knew that those two may not have been happy with his plan, but they were willing to trust him. Or, at least, to respect his choice of how to handle this.
Zane, on the other hand, was up in arms, ready to fight Cobra every step of the way. He had always bee
n opinionated. And he was fiercely loyal, too, and unafraid to show it on his sleeve. But that wasn't always a good thing, especially not in their line of work.
Cobra knew that blood was thicker than water, and that his brothers in the War Devils were more important to him than any job. That was just how it was with them. They'd always stuck with each other, and there was nothing any of them wouldn’t do to help a brother out, even if that meant burning bridges with one of the cartels. They always had each other's backs, no matter what the price.
But Zane sometimes took it too far. He didn't see Ashleigh's life as being worth all this trouble. Cobra knew that, in his mind, she was a lost cause the moment she'd been picked up by Jasper's guys. Zane didn't see why Cobra was risking his neck in some doomed-to-fail suicide mission for the slim chance that he could get her out. In Zane’s mind, Cobra was gambling everything for a piece of tail.
Cobra didn't think he could make Zane understand. Time was running short, and he needed to go. But he needed to be sure before he left that Zane wouldn't do something stupid, like storm in, balls out, and shoot the place up in order to give Cobra a chance to get out.
Cobra drew in a deep breath. "I need you to just stick with Axle and Ajax. I'm going to be fine, man. I'm going to get my girl out of there and finally pay this bastard back for this." He indicated the scar on his cheek. "The others will get here. I know them. I just need to time this right. I need you to hang back so that you can cover me when it’s time."
Cobra saw the small shift in Zane's expression. Now he could see a trace of concession.
"Fine. But I'm not burying you. You hear that? I will never fuckin’ forgive you if you don't get yourself out of this alive."
Cobra couldn't blame Zane for trying to stop him. Zane had been with the War Devils for a lot longer than many of the other brothers, which meant that he'd seen a lot drug runs end badly, and a lot of relationships with various cartels and kingpins turn sour. It was only natural that he wanted Cobra to play it safe. Or, as safe as anyone like them could play it.
But that wasn't an option here.
Cobra hopped back on his bike and started it up. The thrum of the engine beneath him was comforting in a way. Something so familiar at a time when every nerve in his body was in full-on overdrive. He knew that his mind hadn't fully wrapped itself around what he was about to do, or the risk he was about to take.
It was better that way. He needed that protective barrier to keep his nerves in check. He had to be numb now, numb and clear-headed.
"Fuck him up, Cobra," Axle called to him.
"Give him hell," Ajax added.
Cobra directed a short salute at them. He didn't turn to Zane. He didn’t want to give him a chance to change his mind.
He gave his bike some gas and tore off down the road. He was ready.
# # #
He felt the wind rush past his face, arid and warm. He could smell the tar baking in the sun, the deadness of the landscape, as he continued to make his way toward the warehouse. He tried to take it all in.
It might be the last time, he thought to himself. And God would he miss it. There was nothing like the feeling of the road beneath him. The freedom of riding off, alone and unburdened, with no destination in mind.
That was the life he'd led with the Devils for six years. He took work when he wanted it, and when he was in between jobs he could play the nomad. He'd driven through the greater part of the Southwest at some point, and even made his way around the northern parts of Mexico. It was him and the world, no one else, and he loved that feeling like nothing else.
Except Ashleigh. Being with her was a thousand times more powerful than any one extraordinary moment of freedom he'd experienced over the past six years. When he'd first rolled back into town, when he'd first realized that it was her that he'd saved, he knew that what he'd left behind all those years ago was much greater than anything he'd gained since.
He would gladly give up every bit of that freedom just to be with her. Just to taste her lips every morning, to feel her body molded against his every night. He loved her. It shouldn't have taken him so long to put it into words, but there it was.
He had always loved her. He had known that in the lonely nights when he dreamed of her body, the days when all he could think about was going back, finding her, picking up the pieces, and risking everything he'd tried to protect her from just to be with her again.
And if he couldn't pull this off, he would never get to tell her. It was the worst cliché of them all—the tragedy of not being able to acknowledge his feelings until it was too late. But then, stubbornness had always been one of his worst flaws.
He saw the industrial yard down the highway. He would be there in a few minutes.
He couldn't afford distractions now. He had to stay completely focused. And he had to believe that this could work.
Cobra pulled up to the rusting chain link fence that surrounded the group of buildings. The fence was in even worse condition now than six years ago; large sections of it sagged to the ground, making it a completely ineffectual barrier.
Jasper had stationed two sentries out at the road leading into the building. Both were dressed ominously in black. Black jeans, black t-shirts, and black semi-automatics slung over their chests. Their faces were grim, and their hard glares locked on him as he approached. They raised their weapons in perfect synchronicity, training their barrels on him.
Cobra came to a stop just twenty feet out, shutting off his bike and dismounting. He raised his hands to show that he wasn't planning on pulling a gun out on them.
One approached him, his weapon still up, and yanked at Cobra's cut. Using one hand, the other cradling the semi-automatic, he patted Cobra down. Satisfied, he stepped back and nodded to the second sentry.
"He's clean."
The second sentry pulled out a phone and placed a call.
Cobra could hear his heart hammering in his chest. On a primal level, he was starting to doubt his plan. His body was screaming at him to get the hell out of there and to prioritize his own survival. It was a struggle to remain in place, his hands above his head.
"He's here," the second sentry informed whoever he'd called. He waited for a second. "I don't know." The sentry turned to Cobra. "Where's the goods?"
Cobra stared the sentry down, unflinching. "I didn't bring them. I want a guarantee that Ashleigh's going to get out of this first. I'm not stupid."
The sentry glowered at Cobra. His finger seemed to twitch toward the trigger. Maybe that was just Cobra's overactive imagination, though. "He says he doesn't have it."
Cobra could hear the string of expletives that whoever the sentry was talking to—likely Jasper—shouted over the phone. Then the conversation calmed for a moment. The sentry's face shifted from irritation back to a more neutral expression. "All right. Fine."
The sentry hung up the phone. "He said to send him through anyway."
The sentry at Cobra's side jabbed the barrel of his gun into his ribs. "Move," he snarled. He turned back to his partner. "You gonna search his bike?"
The other man nodded.
Cobra walked as slowly as possible, measuring his steps. He could feel Jasper's guard growing impatient with him, mostly by the increasingly painful pressure of the barrel of the gun, punctuated by the occasional jab meant to hurry him. But Cobra was content to take his time. He knew that as long as he could make Jasper believe that he knew where the drugs were, he held the upper hand. Which meant that they would be conducting this meeting at his pace.
The trek up to the area with the warehouses was a long one, at least half a mile, and all of it in the open. He could feel the blazing midday sun scorching his face, the sweat gathering against his collar. That heat, coupled with the bone-dry clouds of dust they kicked up as they made the march irritated his throat. He wished Jasper had picked somewhere with air conditioning for this fucking meeting.
As they approached the main cluster of buildings, he struggled to make out the loose half-
circle of figures that had gathered out in the empty space in the middle.
The very same space where he'd witnessed Jasper's massacre of all those men nearly six years ago. The images of that day flashed back into his mind, accompanied by the strangled screams of Jasper's victims. He saw the blood splattered across the ground again. So much blood. Pools that soaked into the soil like rainwater.
He'd grown a lot harder since that day. He'd seen his fair share of death in his days with the War Devils. It came with the work. It had ceased to move him long ago.
But today it was different. This wasn't just the possibility of seeing strangers or acquaintances strewn across the ground or dumped into shallow graves. The blood he saw in his mind's eye foretold the way this day would most likely end for him—with Ashleigh's bloody body on the ground instead of some nameless drug dealer.
BAD INFLUENCE: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 46