by Zoey Parker
Tiny came over and clapped a large hand on his shoulder. “I’m proud of you for that,” he said quietly, a wide smile on his round face.
“Thanks, Tiny,” Spike said, letting out a deep breath. “I just hope I get the chance to say it to her. The things I said last night…it’s no wonder she felt like she couldn’t ask me for help. I’ve done nothing but treat her like shit.”
“You were trying to help in your own way,” Tiny finagled. “At least now you know how you fucked it up.”
“And what good does that do me if she’s already…” Spike couldn’t say it. Saying it made it a real possibility, maybe even a certainty.
“She’s fine, okay?” Tiny reassured him.
Spike looked into Tiny’s huge, clear eyes and began to calm down. “You’re right. Hey, Tiny, I got a special project, you up for it?”
“I’ll do my best,” Tiny said, nervously shifting from one foot to the other.
“You’re gonna have to be on your own for this one, so be careful, alright? If I go down, this gang needs you,” Spike warned him.
Tiny cleared his throat uncomfortably. “Are you sure this is something you want to trust me with?”
“Of course! We’re all about trust, right?” Spike said with a grin and a wink.
“Of course,” Tiny agreed with an uneasy chuckle. “So, uh, what is it you want me to do, Spike?”
Spike leaned in, his arm barely reaching around Tiny’s massive shoulders. “This is why you’re the one I want on this job…”
***
A few minutes later, the seven of them were spilling out onto the front lawn, mounting their bikes and starting the engines. Jimmy came out and stood on the front step of Satan’s Disciples headquarters, staring at the bikers with an anxious face.
“Hey there, Jim,” Spike said, coming to stand next to the young man. “What’s going on? You look a little worried.”
A shadow seemed to pass over Jimmy’s face. He turned to Spike with a determined glint in his eye. “I want to help,” he said firmly.
Spike admired his bravery, but he couldn’t help but notice that Jimmy’s bottom lip seemed to be quivering, and kind of a lot.
“We would love to have you out there with us, but I think you and I both know it’s best for you if you went home,” Spike said, not unkindly.
Jimmy hung his head, his shoulders drooping. “You’ll get Mrs. Turner—I mean, Georgia—back, won’t you, Mr. Turner?” he asked hopefully.
“That’s the plan, Jim. But I need you to go home if you want that plan to work. Your parents are probably worried sick about you.”
Jimmy looked off in the distance, away from Spike’s gaze. “Nah, not really,” he said dully.
Spike nodded. He understood all too well. “Well, if you really want to help, we could use someone to set up supplies for when we get back. People are probably going to get hurt, so if we had antiseptic and gauze and all that ready right away, that would be a great help, Jim.”
“I’m on it!” Jimmy said with such conviction, Spike practically expected him to salute.
“Go talk to Roxy, she’ll give you a list, okay?” Spike clapped a warm hand on Jimmy’s shoulder, then went to his bike and straddled it.
He started the engine, tracing the Satan’s Disciples logo on the center of his tank. The grinning, flaming skulls seemed to mock him, and he thought the welcome mat in front of the gates of Hell looked particularly inviting today.
Revving the engine, Spike took a small pleasure in the familiar feeling of the worn leather handlebar grips. It was perfectly molded to his palm and felt more like home than anything he’d ever known in his life.
He looked back at the six people he’d come to call family. He had let them down a lot lately, but like a true family, they had rallied around him. His sacrifice was theirs, and he was determined to see this ride through with them, one last time.
“Fire ’em up!” he shouted over the rumbling engines.
All around him, motorcycles roared and snarled, jumping at the bit to be let loose. Spike peeled out, thick white smoke streaming from the back tire. Six more bikes followed suit, clouding the street in a hazy fog.
Tearing down the road, the members of Satan’s Disciples hooted and hollered to each other loudly, screaming with delight at what some of them knew might be the last days of their lives. They were ready for it, though; this was how they lived their lives: ride or die.
***
Georgia slowly regained consciousness. There was a dull throbbing in her head that was persistently knocking on the inside of her skull.
“Ohhh,” she groaned softly.
She tried to raise a hand to her head, but found she could not. Something was binding her hands behind her back. Georgia bright blue eyes snapped open, wildly looking around at her surroundings.
Something moved behind her and she shrieked, startled.
“It’s me!” Felix cried. “Stop, you’ll hurt yourself!”
Georgia had been frantically attempting to get away, and she was painfully twisting the rough twine that tied the two siblings together. Hearing her brother’s voice, his living, real-life voice, Georgia calmed down and stopped trying to get away, though her heart still beat furiously inside her chest.
“Hold still,” Felix said. “I’m gonna try to get us free.”
“Where are we?” she asked, taking another look around the room as Felix pulled on the rope. It was incredibly ostentatious, with dozens of extremely expensive-looking pieces of what could be art, or maybe technology. Georgia wasn’t sure. Everything was chrome or white leather. One wall was decorated entirely with albino animal heads.
“Dammit!” Felix cursed. All his struggles managed to accomplish was giving himself rope burn. “Ivan’s,” Felix answered dully, nodding towards the metal staircase that led to a trapdoor in the ceiling. “This is his private area in the basement. Not many people know this place even exists. I only know ’cause I was still awake when they brought us down.”
Georgia tried to think back to the last thing she remembered—Yury, groping her as he pulled her to her feet, Ivan unbuckling his belt, Rocco… She gasped as she recalled how Rocco had randomly shown up and then met his untimely fate. The heavy thud of Rocco’s head striking the ground, never to rise again, echoed in Georgia’s mind. Ivan had said it was her fault—was he right? If she hadn’t attacked Ivan, would Yury have killed Rocco?
She shook her head; that was a question she would never get the answer to. Now was not the time to be punishing herself.
“Speaking of, where are they?” Georgia said, pushing the image of Rocco’s body out of her mind. She closed her eyes briefly. The ridiculous glass chandelier dangling overhead was giving her migraine a headache.
“I’m not sure. They dumped us in here, tied us together, and left,” Felix said, shrugging. The movement tugged on the rope, biting into Georgia’s already tender wrists. “Oops, sorry,” Felix said, hearing Georgia’s painful gasp. He chuckled bitterly. “I’ve been saying that a lot lately. I guess at this point it probably doesn’t mean much to you. Probably hasn’t meant anything to you in a long time.”
Georgia didn’t say anything. The truth was that Felix was right—Stacy and Spike, too. She had been bailing Felix out for far too long, and it had gotten old right around the time she had walked in on Felix using her apartment for a drug deal three years ago.
She was thankfully saved from having to come up with a reply when the trapdoor opened and three pairs of feet came down the steps.
Ivan stood in front of Georgia and Felix, Yury and Alex just behind him. Alex stared shamefacedly at the floor, unable to look either of them in the eyes.
“I told you I would have you here before the week was out,” Ivan said to his hostages, victoriously planting his fists on his hips. “Didn’t I say?” he turned to look at Yury and Alex.
Yury nodded, a sick smile on his face. “I’m so glad you were able to come back with us, Georgia.”
Georg
ia shuddered at the look he was giving her. It didn’t take a genius to guess what was on his mind. She knew this was a risk, and it was one she had knowingly involved herself in. She tried to take a deep breath to calm the panic that was threatening to overwhelm her.
“A lot of the boys upstairs were excited to see you come through the doors, actually,” Ivan added. He had a look on his face that said he was going to have his own fun before anyone else.
“I know you’re used to your pathetic boyfriend that oh so gallantly came to rescue you, and, of course, the disgusting biker, so I hope you’re ready for what is coming to you,” Ivan continued.
“What’s he talking about, Georgia?” Felix asked.
“Nothing,” she muttered.
“Oh-ho!” Ivan cried, looking at Yury. He turned back to Felix. “Your sister is a slut!” he gleefully informed Felix. “She’s been screwing Spike Turner and he doesn’t even have the yáytsa to show up for her.”
“He must not care for her at all,” Yury said. “I don’t even know if she’s worth it now. I mean, if she’s not good enough for the biker…”
Felix twisted and turned trying to look at his sister. “You and Spike?” he asked confusedly. “He’s not really your type, Georgia.”
“We needed his help, and that was the only way to convince him,” Georgia said flatly. “Fat lot of help he was,” she muttered.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Felix said, feeling hurt.
“I don’t know, Felix!” she cried angrily. “I just didn’t, okay?”
The truth was that Georgia had initially kept Spike a secret because she was ashamed—ashamed of her borderline prostitution, and then later, because she was ashamed of how much she liked it. She liked, even loved, Spike, and how he made her feel: incredibly powerful and touchingly safe, all at the same time.
But he’s not here, Georgia bitterly thought, and he’s not going to be here anytime soon either. He and his gang are probably halfway across the country by now. All I can do is hope they get bored with me fast and kill me quick.
Deep down, however, Georgia knew that between Ivan and Yury, they would make it last.
The two men stepped forward, Alex still hanging back, staring at the cement between his shoes. Yury pulled a knife from his pocket and started towards Georgia.
“Hold still,” he said, giving her a mocking warning. “I wouldn’t want to cut you now.”
Georgia briefly contemplated jerking her wrists towards the blade, thinking maybe she could cut an artery and bleed out before they had a change to violate her, when Felix let out a loud yell.
“Wait!” he shouted frantically. “Wait, one second!”
Yury looked at him skeptically. “What now?”
“I-I have the money,” Felix blurted out.
Georgia twisted back, shocked, to try and look at her brother. What the fuck is he talking about?
Ivan didn’t bother asking any questions. He simply moved—quick as lightning and heavy as thunder—striking Felix across the face. Georgia felt the blow reverberate through her body, and she cried out for her brother.
“Felix!” she screamed.
“No! It’s true,” he stubbornly insisted. “I can get it for you.”
Ivan raised his fist and punched the young man twice in the mouth.
“Stop it! Please, just stop,” Georgia said, begging for Felix’s life.
Ivan kicked her in the thigh and she moaned in pain. “Another word from you and we can go back to our earlier conversation—the one where it’s just you and the three of us,” Ivan offered darkly.
Georgia quieted immediately, biting her bottom lip.
“Now, then,” Ivan said, turning back to Felix, who was bleeding heavily from his mouth. “Felix, why do this to yourself?” he asked. “Why anger me with lies?”
“It’s not a lie. I can get the money,” Felix said assuredly.
Ivan gave him a skeptical look. “If you had this money, why didn’t you simply go get it before?” he wanted to know. “Why only now is this supposed money available?”
Felix glanced at Alex, who still had yet to look at anything except his feet. “I guess it always was, but my pride kept me from using it.”
Ivan leaned forward, intrigued. He understood pride all too well, especially the kind that developed to the point where it hurt more than it helped.
“It’s my dad,” Felix continued.
“Otva`li!” Yury cursed, moving to strike Felix in the face with the butt of his gun.
Ivan held up his hand as Felix winced, anticipating the strike. “Wait!” Ivan cried, halting Yury just in time.
Yury whipped around, barely containing the fury coursing through his body. “What now?”
Ivan arched a brow at his tone and waited until Yury took on a more respectful attitude before resuming. “Remember the first night we went to their house? The girl,” he gestured to Georgia with his gun, “she also mentioned her father. I didn’t believe her then either.”
Yury recalled this now that Ivan mentioned it, but he was still suspicious. He also didn’t see why he couldn’t beat Felix—the boy was going to die, whether or not it would be fast or slow depended on if he was telling the truth about the money.
“You said your father was out of town?” Ivan said, now addressing Georgia. “Why didn’t you go get the money from him before?”
Georgia had to bite her tongue to keep from reminding Ivan that he had restricted the two of them from leaving the area. “We don’t exactly have the greatest relationship with our dad,” she explained. “We pretty much hate him.”
Ivan and Yury looked at each other and laughed. “What is the phrase, Alex?” Ivan said, snapping his fingers. “Net der'ma.” He craned his neck to listen as Alex mumbled something under his breath. Ivan and Yury doubled over into peals of laughter once again.
“Da! No shit, Sherlock,” Ivan said, once he got control of himself again. “We all hate our fathers, as our sons will hate us. But never mind this, tell us, where is your father?”
Georgia shifted against her bindings nervously. She knew Felix despised their father more than she did, and with good reason, but was he really going to send these men after him? They would almost certainly murder him.
“I’ll only tell you where to find him if you promise not to hurt my sister,” Felix said calmly.
Ivan’s face grew hard. His large diamond earrings glinted in the chandelier’s light. “You will tell us regardless,” he demanded.
“You think so?” Felix said, challenging the much, much larger man. “Hit me and let’s find out.”
Ivan and Yury looked at him uncertainly. Georgia held her breath, waiting to see what the two mobsters would decide. She had no idea what Felix was up to, but she tried to have faith in him.
“Very well,” Ivan finally agreed. “She won’t be harmed.” Yury looked incredibly put out and swore under his breath. “Don’t worry, if the boy is lying, we will come back and then she will be for everyone,” Ivan assured him. “You are not lying, are you?”
Felix shook his head emphatically. “No, I’m not. The house I was at in Boston, it’s my uncle’s. I went there because I knew it would be empty—my uncle went with my dad on a deep sea fishing expedition. They’ll be getting back late tonight or early tomorrow morning. If you leave now, you can get there just in time to—”
“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” Ivan interrupted.
Felix stopped, nonplussed. “Why would I do that?” he asked. “You’d just come back, and then everything would be even worse for us.”
Ivan looked to Yury, who shrugged. “He has a point,” Yury agreed.
“Yes, but all the same…” Ivan walked over to a short, white dresser that held several jewelry boxes. He turned back, now wearing a large ring on every finger. “I think I would like some insurance…”
Fifteen minutes later, Ivan was being helped out of blood-spattered clothing by an extremely pale-faced Alex. A hot pit of anger bega
n to boil in Georgia’s stomach. Deep down, she knew Alex was as much a prisoner as they were, but she shoved that thought aside. Here was one of Felix’s closest friends, and he has helping the man who had Felix’s blood all over him. She wanted him to do something—anything—but Ivan’s reach was too great. The only people who could help now were the police, and Georgia had seen firsthand how well that worked out.
“Get together Boris, Dmitri, and Garry,” Ivan said, wiping his hands clean. “I’m taking them to check out Boston. You stay here and keep an eye on them until I fly back.”