by Lily White
Diablo laughed behind me, mimicking the sound of his guards and obviously enthralled with the scene that played out before him. “You see what happens to people who try me? The only reason that poor bastard is getting it worse than you is because he killed one of my men and he isn’t worth more to me than the entertainment his death can provide.” His free hand slid softly down my spine, resting on my ass where it was planted on the ground. “At least you don’t have to worry about that. Although…considering the place where you’re going next, what’s happening to that dumb fuck right there might be a preferable fate.”
Stretched between the ground and the chains, his face was the picture of agony and I couldn’t imagine how long it would take the weight of the bike to split him in two. You would think that the pain of being stretched alone would be enough, but not to a man like Diablo.
Calling out to his guards, his voice boomed over my head when he ordered, “Let him kiss the thing he loves so much. Dirty ass fucking bikers need to see how their love of their machines can be hazardous to their health.” More laughter and his free arm came around me, embracing me from behind. I blinked for only a second and felt the sharp point of his blade poke in even farther.
Leaning so that his mouth was against my ear, he said, “Remember to keep your eyes open. You don’t want to miss this.”
I heard a second bike roar to life. When I looked to my left, I saw a guard pushing it backwards up to where the man was stretched up from the ground. When I realized what they were about to do, my head shook involuntarily, my stomach clenched in my abdomen and the taste of bile shot up my throat.
Two men reached down to lift the back end of the bike a foot or two off the ground, just enough that it was at the same height as the biker’s face. Pulling it back so that the he was close enough to kiss the tire, the guard gunned the engine and I heard the biker’s brother scream from where he was being held down 20 feet away.
When the tire was spinning so fast that the spokes were a blur and the engine screamed, they backed it against the face of the stretched biker, his scream quickly drowned out by the roar of the engine. I tried to close my eyes to what I was seeing, but the prick of Diablo’s knife reminded me to keep my eyes open. The smell of burnt flesh wafted across the space and one whiff was enough for my stomach to finally give out as I wretched all over the ground beneath me.
A door slammed open, wrenching me from my memories of Diablo’s compound. I didn’t know if it was fear or relief that I felt at that moment, maybe a mixture of both as I was torn from one nightmare only to be forced to face another.
Five men poured in, most dressed in white t-shirts and jeans, except for one who wore a pair of grey dress pants and a back buttoned up shirt. It wasn’t difficult to tell who was running the show between the five of ‘em.
The obvious leader looked me over, turning every once in a while to speak to the four other men in a language I couldn’t understand. It sounded like Spanish, but it could have been French, Italian or Portuguese for all I knew. I was too damn tired, almost catatonic from shock, and my thoughts felt thick and sluggish in my head. After a few comments, two of the men disappeared out into the halls and I barely registered the sound of female voices and screams faintly echoing within the room. Those sounds were completely silenced when the men shut the door and approached me.
“Hello Holly.”
Goddammit. It seemed like every psychopath west of Illinois knew my fucking name these days.
“You’re probably wondering who I am.”
I didn’t respond for several reasons. One, because it didn’t matter who the fuck he was. My knowledge of his name or why he had me wouldn’t save me from whatever evil intent he had. Two was because my throat was still shredded from screaming in Diablo’s backyard and I hadn’t had any water in who knows how long.
He didn’t seem to like it when I just stared at him like the zombie I’d become.
One of his men was on me within seconds, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling my head back against the wall. I whimpered from the pain, but it wasn’t that bad compared to what I’d already been through, that was until the other guy punched me in the face, most likely breaking my nose.
“You going to talk now?”
Clearing my throat, I was able to squeak out a weak reply. “What would you like to talk about, exactly?”
He laughed and the putrid smell of his breath went together well with his ugly face. Wrinkled and fat, his cheeks pudged out at the sides, the skin looking like leather from too much sun. He had beady, black eyes that seemed to stare right through me and his hair was stringy and long, the sweat and grease on his skin causing it to stick within the folds of his face.
“Well, we can start with how much you’re going to make me.”
His hand was between my legs and it burned when the salt of his skin met the tears in mine. I was numb to the fact that his finger was pushing up inside me as he attempted to gauge whatever it was he was trying to discover.
He didn’t speak again except to look up and blurt out something to his goons, once again in a language that escaped me.
Releasing my hair, the two men started to walk away as the leader pushed himself up, no longer interested in having a deep conversation. I was glad to see them leave, but somewhat concerned that I hadn’t learned exactly what it was they were planning to do to me.
It wasn’t until I tried to talk to the asshole that I realized how thirsty I was. I blamed the dehydration on the reason why I couldn’t see straight or the absolute lethargy in my body. I would have killed at that moment for something to drink.
Within another couple of minutes, the door swung again and one of the goons stepped in. By the time I was able to lift my head to see what was in his hands, I was pushed back into the wall by the spray of ice-cold water from the hose.
It felt like razors across my skin and the water entered my mouth when I opened it to scream. I realized at that moment what my mom had meant years ago when she told me to be careful what I wished for, because in this instance, I definitely got it.
Chapter Seventeen
JD
I should have kept driving east. I should have continued allowing the wind to break against my face, the rumble of the engine to power beneath me as I tore down miles of highway in search of a life where I didn’t have to worry about the MC, or Diablo, and especially not about Holly.
Those people weren’t my problem.
Not anymore, at least.
Somehow, when I was driving through the pitch black of the night sky, the long desert roads stretched out in front of me begging me to keep going and find peace at the end of wherever they took me, I stopped. Looking up, a thousand white eyes stared down at me like the heavens above were witnesses to my cowardice, my guilt and my greed.
I’d stolen her to save myself.
I’d left her to run drugs to the man who’d ordered her capture.
I was leaving it all behind, as if her life, her safety and her soul were not worth risking everything I’d worked so hard to gain.
Why was my life more important when it was my hand that put her in that place to begin with?
Kicking down the stand, I pulled my leg from over the bike and walked out into the cool breeze that blew across the dust and lowlying plants. Animals could be heard hunting in the distance, but other than that there was only the whisper of wind, carrying with it the secrets and silent prayers of every poor bastard out there who lived a life as bleak as mine. Mixed within that wind was Holly’s voice, the words she said to me before I left her to die and the lies I’d told not only her, but also myself, to make us both feel better about the situation.
I wondered if she’d taken my advice or if the fighting spirit she had inside her revived once I was no longer there to talk her down from the ledge.
I wondered if she was even still breathing.
Why had I stopped? I didn’t even know where she was and who’d taken her. Hector wasn’t a name I recognized
. I didn’t even know if it was the name of the man who now held her. Somehow, despite all the roadblocks constructed in my head and the questions echoing through my thoughts, the prayers laced within that silent wind spoke louder. Climbing back on my bike, I turned the key, listening to the engine roar to life beneath me and I turned the bike so that I was now heading back in the direction from which I’d been running.
Returning once again to the life I wanted nothing more but to forget, I rode in the direction of the one person I thought could help me weed through all of this bullshit.
When it came down to leaving everything behind, I couldn’t do it. My last act had doomed another soul to slaughter. I couldn’t ride away weighed down by the knowledge that I was just as guilty and evil as the men I never wanted to see.
I needed to right one last wrong in order to be truly free of a life I never wanted in the first place.
…
The most recognizable sound I’ve ever known is that of a shotgun being cocked. The slide of metal against metal, back and forth until you know that if you’re not the man holding the gun, you’re about to be the man blown into pieces.
I wasn’t surprised to hear it considering I was sneaking around on another man’s property on a night so dark that not even the moon could illuminate the ground where I was walking.
“Who the fuck are you? And you better talk fast motherfucker because my finger is tight over this trigger.” The low growl of a baritone voice called out over the quiet space and I stopped in my tracks, raising my hands up in surrender even though it was too dark for Henry to see me.
“It’s me. JD.” I spoke loud and clear in hopes that he wasn’t too drunk to remember the punk kid of his former best friend.
Silence hung between us, thick and suffocating like a down comforter over your body on a hot summer day.
“Don’t know if I believe you because I haven’t seen or heard from JD in over ten years. If you’re really who you say you are, prove it. What’d I used to call you?”
My lip quirked with a smile, my head shaking to think that this fucker would bring that up immediately, after not talking to me for so long.
“You called me Limp Dick.”
A soft chuckle floated over from my right and I turned in the direction of the sound. Henry was still concealed in shadow so I played along and kept my hands out to my sides.
“Nope. That’s too easy. Lots of men knew what I called you. So tell me this: Why did I call you Limp Dick?”
This time the soft chuckle echoing through the space rolled out of my lungs. “Really man? You haven’t spoken to me in ten years and that’s the first thing you’re going to bring up?”
“Sounds like you’re stallin’ to me. Think my finger here is getting tighter.”
My smile broadened at his threat and I quickly rattled off what I knew he wanted to hear. “Because I couldn’t get it up with the club slut you paid to fuck me when I turned 13.”
Silence again before he responded, “That’s not the reason.”
Goddammit. He wasn’t going to let this go.
“Because I paid her even more than you to stay in the room with me for three hours and pretend like it was the best fuck she ever had.”
More silence.
“And?”
My head fell down and I shook it in amused disbelief. “And because she took my money, still left to tell you I couldn’t get it up and I cried.”
My words were met with a burst of laughter that rumbled throughout the cool night air. “Damn straight, Limp Dick, and don’t you forget it.”
Still laughing, he stepped out of the shadow that was thick against the house where he lived. In four large strides, he’d crossed the distance between us, wrapping his large arms around me and pulling me into a tight embrace. Normally, I never allowed a man to greet me in this way, but Henry had raised me just as much as my father and I knew there was no fighting the fact that he looked at me like I was his own son.
Pulling back, he released his hold on me and his smiling laughter was replaced by an angry scowl. “Now what the fuck are you doing sneaking around on another man’s property unannounced in the dead of fucking night? I taught you better than that, shithead, so tell me why you’re trying to get yourself killed.”
“I’m not trying to get myself killed.”
“Don’t make no sense then about why you’re being so stupid.” He slapped my shoulder so hard that I stepped to the right to keep from falling over.
“Now get your ass inside where an old man can see you properly.”
We both laughed that time because the truth was that Henry wasn’t more than 15 years older than me. He’d been my father’s Sergeant of Arms, having earned that position with his skill and knowledge even though he was considered by some to be too young to hold rank within the MC. My dad didn’t care anything about age and said he’d made the decision because he knew he could protect the brothers better if he had intelligent people running things.
Once we’d entered the house, I looked around and noticed the typical decorations used by a bachelor who had no interest in anything besides guns and alcohol. Empty bottles littered the space, only broken up by the filled ashtrays that looked like they hadn’t been dumped in months. I knew better, though. Those could have been dumped yesterday, but Henry couldn’t function without a lit cigarette hanging from his mouth. Strewn over every available surface were greasy gun parts I knew that no person could match up if they tried. Henry had a way of scattering things just so he’s the only one who would know how to find the right pieces and put shit back together.
We settled into two chairs at a small, rickety table in the tiny corner kitchen and I looked at Henry in the dim light, noticing how his hair still hung down his back, but instead of the jet black it used to be, it was now broken up with silver streaks that matched the stripes in his beard.
“Damn kid. It’s been a while. You finally look like a man.” His brown eyes searched my face as his lips crinkled up into a smile. “In fact, you look a lot like your father.” He chuckled. “Which only means you’re ugly as shit.”
Laughing, I sat back in my chair. “Can’t say you’re looking much better.”
“Was that supposed to hurt my feelings? Because you missed the mark when you forgot I already know I’m ugly.” Picking up a pack of no-filter smokes, he lit one end, pulling a long drag before settling back and asking, “What kind of trouble you in?”
“What makes you think I’m in trouble?” Same ol’ Henry. Fucker always could read my mind.
“Wouldn’t be here if you weren’t.” He looked at me with a cocked eyebrow, puffing away so that the cigarette smoke damn near concealed his face.
“Do you want the long story or the short one?”
He didn’t respond, just looked at me like I was an idiot and waited for me to talk.
“Okay, I have a problem, but it’s one I’m going to handle myself. The only reason I’m here is because I need information and I think you might have it.”
His hand reached for an open whiskey bottle to the side and after taking a long swig, he handed it across the table to me. I wasted no time in swallowing the burning liquid down.
“Not sure I can help you, but I can try. What is it you need to know?”
I didn’t beat around the damn bush with him. He was a man of few words who appreciated people who cut to the point. “I need to find a girl and get her out of a bad situation.”
He groaned before mumbling, “It’s always about a bitch…”
“It’s not like that. I’m the one responsible for her being in the situation in the first place. That’s the only reason I’m sticking my neck out to do something about it. I’m responsible so I have to make it right.”
Blowing out a deep breath, he pinched the skin between his eyes with his fingers, taking another long drag from his cigarette before asking, “Who are you up against in this?”
“Don’t know, exactly. Some associate of Diablo’s.”
I remembered quickly that Henry hadn’t had much to do with Hell’s Rebellion since my father passed. He and Big John didn’t see eye to eye. When John was voted in to take over as Prez, most of my father’s crew dipped out, wanting nothing more to do with an MC that they believed was going downhill.
“He’s been the supplier for Hell’s Rebellion over the past two years. Him and John are in tight when it comes to finances, if you know what I mean.”
“Goddamn boy, your father must be turning over in his grave on a daily fucking basis. I can’t understand why you’re still having anything to do with those assholes. John never gave a fuck about the brothers, it’s always been dollar bills flashing in his eyes and I wouldn’t be surprised to find out he had something to do with your daddy’s death. We made along just fine not involving drug lords in our dealings. Can’t trust those fuckers.”
I sighed, not wanting to give him the full story as to why I owed a debt to the MC. “Yeah, well, that’s not what’s important. I was told some guy named Hector took Holly off Diablo’s hands. I need to find this Hector guy and get her back.”
Silence again and a blank expression on his face. He stared straight ahead, the gears turning in his head processing what I’d just told him.