by A. C. Bextor
“You’re an ass,” she snaps back while sitting up.
“You walk into that place…” I tell her then correct myself. “No, you walk near that place, Em, and you won’t be free to call me names again. Hoss isn’t fuckin’ around.”
“You said it was someone above him who has her. Maybe he’s had a change of heart.”
“What?” This time, my voice bounces off the walls in fury. Moving around the room to find my jeans and boots, I talk as I dress. “Stay out of this. You’re not to go near Creed. Do you understand?”
“I want to see her,” she states the obvious, but this time with petulance.
“You wanna see her, I get it.” Turning around to her, I lean over and place both my hands on either side of her body. She freezes except to pull the covers up to her chin, reducing her already-exposed feelings. “But you wanna see her safe, which means you keep your ass out of Creed.”
“Okay,” she voices, this time nearly in tears.
I don’t have time to console her. With my ears thumping to the sound of my own blood on fire, I finish dressing, kiss her hard, and make my way out of the bedroom door. Without looking back, I head out of the apartment.
As I stand next to my bike, I grab my phone and check the time. Two a.m. isn’t a good time to call Tommy, but I don’t have it in me to hold onto this after Hoss just overstepped his fucking place. And he did it without telling me.
I need someone to watch Em and make sure she doesn’t do anything to put herself, Casey, or the plans in danger.
Jesus Christ.
Chapter Twenty-Five
After waking Tommy, telling him what Hoss had done in calling Em, and settling him down from his nervousness, he agreed to help me with what I need. He’s sending Natalie and Denver over early in the morning to help distract Em and keep her busy. He promised he’d check on her as time goes on and report back to me without her knowing his play.
I trust Tommy. I don’t trust Hoss with Em’s emotions, though, so the weight of all I’m bearing just got worse.
I stopped back by the apartment to pick up some things and before leaving, I left Em a note, not-so-nicely instructing her to stay put. Emilyn can be extremely headstrong at times, especially when it comes to Casey. It’s important she gets my point and does exactly as I tell her. I’m not sure what Hoss is up to, but judging by his already shady character, it can’t be anything good. And I’m determined to find out as soon as he gets back.
Finally arriving back at the club at four a.m., I find myself standing alone in the common room. It’s dark and looks deserted, which is good. I hadn’t wanted to talk to anyone—namely Dee Dee or Hangar—anyway.
As I walk through the dark hallway to find the room I slept in before, I stand motionless after I hear the sound of someone coming in my direction. Again, it’s too dark to make out the figure; however, the heavy sobs as the footsteps draw closer can’t be mistaken. Between the small pants of air and the continuous sobs of despair, I’m clearly able to make out it’s a female in tears.
Just as I’m about to head into the room, I’m stopped in my tracks. Once I flip on the light, it immediately spills into the hallway and shines on Dee Dee’s swollen and nervous face. Her expression isn’t one I remember her ever having, even when I held her by the throat and caged her against the wall in Casey’s room.
“What are you…”
I don’t finish my question before Dee Dee reaches out and grabs my wrist, squeezing it tightly to get my attention. “It’s bad. He really fucked-up, Max. Help!”
“Dee Dee, calm the fuck down,” I insist, but she’s not listening.
Her rambling continues. “I need to find Cilas. I really need to find Cilas, Max. He’s not in his room. Hangar’s got…”
Just as she’s about to finish, Cilas comes walking around the corner as though he heard his summons. Even in the dimmed light, his large body already casts a heavy shadow as he continues pacing in our direction.
“Cilas!” Dee Dee yells, releasing me and running toward him, her bare feet hitting the concrete floor with a smack at each pace. She grabs his arms much the same as she had grabbed my wrist. Cilas’ eyes narrow as he throws her forward and jerks his arms back from her grasp in order to free himself.
The look he’s now pinning me with, as though I did something to upset her to this degree, is menacing.
“Dee Dee, what the fuck are you goin’ on about?” I ask for both Cilas and myself. “Talk, damn it.”
Inhaling a sob, she tries to explain what she knows. “Hangar’s gone crazy! He’s got Anna!”
Cilas moves to turn around, but she stops him by grabbing his arm again. A bold move, which says enough about the degree of her urgency.
“He was drinking earlier and he didn’t stop,” she continues. “When I got back to the room, he was saying all these crazy things about Max this, Cilas that, and he kept talking about that stupid, stupid poker game. I’ve never seen him like this.”
I look down in contemplation and aim for a collective breath. It’s then I notice dark liquid, which without light I can only assume is blood, dripping from Dee Dee’s inner thigh. Her tan shorts are sticking to her leg because of it.
Acting quickly, I grab her from Cilas’ hold and pull her back to me, holding her so she can’t get away.
“You’re hurt,” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer my observation, just continues to look up to Cilas, who now towers over us both. “Help her,” she utters.
“Where are they?”
“Basement.” Once she gets that out, her body finally relaxes and she nearly falls to the ground. “She’s bad, Max. H-he…” she stutters and manages to swallow another sob. “He made me watch him…”
Shaking her in my arms lightly, knowing we don’t have time to waste, I ask, “What?”
“He made me watch. He… told me if I left, I’d get the whip next.”
Whip.
“I tried to leave, but he…”
“Enough,” I clip.
Looking to Cilas, who stands rigid in front of us radiating with fury, I yank on Dee Dee’s arm to get her to move into the room I had just thrown my bags in.
“Help me with her first,” I instruct Cilas.
With his large frame and brutal strength, he bends down, picks her up in his arms, and starts to carry her into my room like a child being gently cradled. Her crying has finally stopped, but her body is still shaking. Although Cilas is still one of many who wear the vest, even Dee Dee senses the safety of his guard.
After he walks her in and I follow, he lays her out on the bed. It’s then I give her specific instructions. “Stay here and don’t leave. Don’t open the door for anyone. Do you understand?”
Cilas quickly throws a blanket on top of her before she answers. Her body now appears weak as it comes down from its adrenaline rush.
“Yes,” she finally gets out before closing her eyes and wiping more tears.
I look up to Cilas. He nods to the door, so I follow him out.
“The basement,” I repeat what she already told us, but it’s because I’m shocked. “What’s that fucker doin’ in the basement, and why does he have Anna?” I hadn’t expected Cilas to answer, but was hoping for anything other than his continued impassive silence.
After following him through a series of twists and turns, we make our way to a set of stairs leading straight underground. For simplicity’s sake, the only way to describe the basement stairwell is as a castle’s dungeon. Lights line the side of the cement walls. Cobwebs have been spun in and throughout every fixture. Cilas takes the stairs, two at a time, without fear. I’m more apprehensive, so I hang back and wait until he gets a few steps in front of me before I follow his lead.
The scream of terror coming from the room at the bottom suddenly hurries our pace. Once we turn the corner, my stomach lurches at the sight of what’s happening in front of us.
Anna is tied up.
A brown, worn rope hangs from the ceiling, its
knots holding her in place. Blood oozes down her bare back as Hangar, looking worn-out and tired from exertion, holds in his hand what looks to be a leather whip. Judging by their current state, he’s been at her for a while.
Before Hangar is able to turn around, Cilas walks to him quietly and wraps his large arms completely around Hangar’s lanky body, stopping him from any further movement. Hangar thrashes in his hold, screaming about making someone pay. My name comes toppling out of his mouth like poison meant to kill. Cilas subdues him without issue, and he finally drops the leather piece to the floor.
With Cilas dragging him back, they pass me standing in place. When they do, Cilas’ body goes rigid. As Hangar stands in front of me, I watch as his eyes grow dark. To say he’s not himself isn’t an accurate description. It feels more as though this is Hangar, in his truest, most malevolent form. Cilas keeps hold of him tightly around the chest and waist, lifting him at least a foot off the floor.
Anna continues crying out in pain, but Hangar’s words drown her out completely. “I wanted it to hurt,” he says. “I wanted her to feel the burn.” His feet start to drag, his body losing itself to fatigue, but he’s not finished with his morbid explanation. “It’ll be the same for her,” he says, yet he’s not making sense. “Just as it was for yours. She was mine.”
Cilas has had enough. He nods in Anna’s direction and carries Hangar out of the room while Hangar’s feet continue dragging on the ground. I watch as he carries him to the door, but before walking through it, Cilas passes the cement wall and Hangar’s head hits it with a heavy thud. Cilas doesn’t stop to check on him.
Turning to Anna, I take in the full sight of her. Her soft flesh is open and oozing for all to see. The cuts, abrasions, falling skin, and immediate bruising cannot be described. If my gut has ever twisted with gore, it’s not been so obvious ‘til now.
Rushing to her side, I wrap my hand around her waist as carefully as I can to relieve the weight of her body hanging from the ropes. I’m unsure where to start dismantling her from her binds, so I reach up and start with one hand. I don’t chance another look at her.
Assuming she doesn’t know who’s in the room, I speak quietly as I work. “Sweetheart, it’s me,” I say cautiously. “Max.”
“Max,” she whispers, turning her head and giving me a full view of the extent of damage that’s been done to her face.
My stomach ties in heavy knots as I take in everything Hangar’s broken. One eye is completely shut, beaten and bloodied. Her cheek on the other side is so swollen it’s lifting the lower lid of her eye. Her lip is split, and blood, even dried, sticks to her chin and neck. Anna’s hair, which is usually a deep, dark brown, is caked with the thick of her own blood. Holding her still for just a moment, I allow myself a breath.
“Viktor,” she calls out in a whisper. “Cilas,” she beckons next.
Still using a soft voice of my own, and being as careful as I can, I reassure, “I’ll get Viktor, but I need to get you out of here first, okay?”
She doesn’t nod or answer.
“Are you with me?” I prod, hoping like fuck she’s not about to lose consciousness. Until I get her down from the binds, it’s better to know she’s awake – it tells me she’s still alive.
Anna nods only slightly, so I reach to the strap of rope holding her wrists in place. Her fingers wrap around it and she’s still using her strength to grasp it tightly, even after having the shit beat out of her.
I feel her body’s violent shakes, so I stop to offer words of reassurance that she’s not alone. “It’s okay. Cilas came with me. He’ll be back, and Hangar’s gone.”
“Viktor,” she cries out again. “He worries.”
“It’s okay,” I soothe. “I’ll get him. Let me get you down.”
I work the strap of her left wrist first. Once it’s released, she falls to her side and is left hanging mid-air by one arm. I work quickly to grab her small body and offer support to keep her standing. She cries out in pain when my chest brushes her open, bleeding, and raw back.
“Almost done, Anna. Stay with me, okay?”
“Yes,” she answers, visibly using all her strength to break out into another whisper.
The second knot is worse than the first. Her hand starts to lose color as I attempt to work it while trying to hold her without jarring her body and causing her more excruciating pain. I need help, but there’s no one around and I’m running out of time before she’s bound to black out.
“I’ve gotta grab something to help me with this,” I explain. “I’m not leaving. I’ll be right behind you. No one is coming in or going out of that door while I’m here, okay?”
Her shaky breath hitches before affirming she’s heard me. “Okay.”
Releasing her gently, I look around the room for anything I can use to help free her. I see a table with three bottles of unopened water and one bottle that’s completely empty. A beat-up grey mattress is leaning against a wall in the corner. I close my eyes and wash away the thoughts of whatever Hangar had planned to do to her next.
Finally, I find a knife set to the side, clipped into a belt. Again, I’m assuming this is Hangar’s.
My urgency to free her triumphs over the immediate rage I feel in my desire to kill him.
“Listen to me, Anna,” I whisper into her ear, feeling her jump on contact. “I’m going to get you down from here. When I do, I need you to fall against me. It’ll hurt.” I stop to let her catch a breath. “But do it and I’ll get you out of here and back with Viktor.”
She doesn’t answer as her head falls to the side. The blood dripping from her nose continues as she sucks in a shallow, ragged breath. She’s a strong woman, and this is her only way of bracing for what’s to come.
With a quick slice to the strap holding her, I maintain my composure as she drops against me in one fell swoop. The knife falls from my hand and I act quickly to ensure her now silent and still body doesn’t hit the filthy floor beneath us.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When I walk into the room where I left Dee Dee, she’s exactly how I left her. The lights are on and she’s lying on her back, covers draped up to her chin as she clutches them. She’s awake staring at the ceiling.
After closing the door behind me, I use careful steps to move toward her. With my head swimming in sadness for all those affected tonight, I close my eyes and hope she remains calm. Before I can make it to her side, her head shifts and she looks at me with shining eyes. She hasn’t stopped crying.
“Hey,” I call out, pulling out a chair from the desk in the corner of the room and moving it to sit beside her.
“I’m so sorry,” she utters while looking at me, then quickly refocuses on the ceiling.
“What happened to Anna wasn’t your fault,” I try to soothe her.
I don’t like Dee Dee. I don’t approve of the choices she’s made or the things she’s allowed Casey to be exposed to, but she’s human and she’s hurting. She didn’t do this. She had no hand in helping do what he did to her. Her fault only lies with Casey.
Releasing a sob, her hand reaches to her forehead while she covers her eyes in shame. “I knew he was...” Her breath hitches before she continues. “I knew he was up to something. With Hoss gone and his hate for Anna…” She’s vocally unable to keep going with her explanation, but her sadness says enough. “That stupid poker game. Hangar can’t handle losing.”
Reaching out and resting my hand on her forearm, I continue to help her with her guilt. “Dee Dee, look at me.” When she doesn’t, I increase my leveling tone and repeat, “Look at me.”
As her hand drops, her crying eyes turn in my direction and she takes in a ragged breath. “I may as well have done that to Anna myself.”
“Did you help him get her down there?”
“No.”
“Did you help him hurt her?”
“No, but…”
“Did you try to stop him? Talk to him before it started?
“Yes, but…”
“Not on you,” I tell her with honesty.
“Where are they?”
“Anna’s waiting for Viktor. She’s being cared for. And I don’t know where Hangar is.”
Moving her head to the direction of the ceiling, her face is deadpan, wiped of all emotion, her voice haunting. “Viktor will kill Hangar for this.”
“He would deserve it.”
Nodding in agreement, she whispers, “He would.”
“Dee Dee.” I try to be careful during my address, because I don’t know her anymore. I don’t know with any degree of certainty what she’s seen or been exposed to in this life. “What did he do to you?”
“What?” she asks, as if not understanding.
“Before he took Anna…” My eyes move the expanse of her small frame and I stop them mid-center, near her waist. “You were bleeding when you stopped me and were looking for Cilas.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
“Max, I’m so sorry,” she tells me again.
Lifting my hand to keep her from talking, I reiterate, “This isn’t on you.”
“I’m not just talking about Anna or Hangar. I’m sorry for Casey, too.”
“I’ve got Casey,” I assure her. “She’s not going anywhere.”
A breath of her relief falls between us. She starts to sit up, but a pained expression envelops her face. Using my hand at her waist to keep her still, she freezes mid-motion and falls back down.
“I’m goin’ to have someone come look at you.”
“Thank you.” For the first time in all these years that have passed, I sense her sincerity is genuine.
As I stand, I keep my eyes on her, ensuring she does what I’ve told her. Once I’m convinced she won’t move, I put the chair back in place under the desk and move to shut off the light.
“Leave it on,” she calls out from the bed. As I grab the handle to the door, she speaks again. “If I could do this all over again, I want you to know I wouldn’t be here.”
“I know. There’s still time to fix what’s been broken.”
Her eyes turn to her focal point back on the ceiling. Her voice full of pain, and her body once again shaking, she expresses, “Some things are so broken they can never be fixed. Please give my love to Emma and tell her to take care of Casey the way I never did.”