by Raine, Meli
“But he didn’t?”
I shake my head. “Beat the shit out of him, though.”
Detective Knowles gives me a wry smile. “Any man would if someone did that to their woman.”
I think about Chase punching Loogie as the bike sped away.
Yeah. Any man would.
Mom says I have nothing to worry about with El Brujo anymore. Loogie says any daughter of his old lady’s is like a daughter of his, and under the protection of the Mephists.
Mom says that like I have my own Secret Service guards.
Maybe better.
I don’t know, though. The Atlas gang was ready to hand me off. The Mephists were at the compound that day for a massive drug shipment that was too big for only one gang to handle. So much of the money eventually finds its way to El Brujo. His group produces the drugs, the biker gangs distribute and deal, and the money filters back.
That’s all I know.
Whatever happened to the debt Jeff owed is still a mystery.
“You’re trying to get El Brujo, aren’t you?” I ask. My glass is slippery in my hand. Condensation makes a ring on my jeans where I set the glass. My muscles still aren’t very strong. I tend to drop things a lot these days. I applied for a waitressing job at a coffee shop within a quick walk of the apartment. I need to earn some money. Mom’s helping out, but even bikers don’t have a ton.
I’m hoping my grip will be okay by then. The raw skin on my wrists is healing enough that I hope not to draw attention to the weird bruises. Don’t want people to think I’m kinky or something.
“I’m trying to find out the truth, Allie,” he says.
He isn’t going to give an inch.
He stands, and it’s clear the interview is over. A beefy hand goes out to me, and I shake it. He’s gentle.
“I’m so sorry for everything you’ve gone through. Let me say, though, that you don’t need to worry about El Brujo. All the money and the drugs that were stolen from your house—”
“Wait. What?” I feel dizzy suddenly and sit back down.
His eyes narrow. “You didn’t know? The night they kidnapped you, all the drugs and money you and Marissa found were stolen. She had been smart enough to take pictures on her cell phone, and we were able to enlarge some to find serial numbers on some of the hundred-dollar bills. We’re been tracing those. They are being spent in an area where we know El Brujo is. We don’t know who he is, but we do know the general area where he is.”
A chill runs up my spine.
“It’s L.A., isn’t it?”
“I can’t say.”
I blink rapidly, my body crawling with fear. “And what about Chase?” I look up, hopeful.
He shakes his head sadly. “No one’s seen him. We tried to get the feds involved to do a drug raid at the Atlas and Mephist compounds but they’re deserted. Ghost towns. Everyone’s gone.”
“Gone?”
“Yes. Any idea where they might be?”
I think of the tiny shack where David and Chase did their stunts. I lie. “No.” I frown and ask, “Did Galt kill him?”
Detective Knowles jolts, eyebrows shooting up. “You have a reason to suspect that?”
I debate how much to tell, but give in. My worry about Chase is too big. “Chase tried to leave Atlas. He never wanted that life.”
“They all say that. Sob story,” he replies, rolling his eyes.
“It’s true for Chase! And he said if he left, Galt would kill him. Galt told him that.” I feel defensive and indifferent at the same time. If Chase really loved me, he’d have found me by now. I’m indebted to him forever because he saved my life. Then again, he brought me to the compound to be taken by El Brujo. My loyalty is split. I don’t know what to think.
And he isn’t here to answer a single question.
The detective takes a small notebook out again and scribbles in it. “Good to know. No bodies have shown up...” His voice tapers off as if he’s saying there’s hope.
Or not.
He’s not giving me any answers.
Maybe Chase isn’t here because he’s dead.
This isn’t the first time I’ve wondered. More like the millionth time. But having the detective from back home here, confirming what I’ve assumed, is like wondering for the first time. The dawning horror that Chase is just gone seeps in.
Like I’m in the middle of the ocean in ice water and can only hang on to a small piece of driftwood.
Driftwood the size of my heart.
Chapter Sixteen
We say our goodbyes. Marissa and Morty have been hiding out in her bedroom, and as soon as the detective leaves they come out.
Marissa gives me an enormous hug, squeezing me a little too tight. “You okay?” she murmurs into my hair. Her hot breath drains some of the tension out of me.
“Yeah.”
Morty gives me a skeptical look. “No, you’re not. I’d have shit my pants if I had gone through what you went through.”
Tears fill my eyes but I laugh anyhow. “I couldn’t do that,” I say.
“Why not?” He gives me a funny look.
“They wouldn’t give me any pants.”
We all start laughing but after a minute or so, I just can’t stop. All that hysterical laughter that kept bubbling up in me when I was held captive at the Atlas compound finally comes out of me, spewing out like a spring that’s been sprung, going on and on and on.
A gentle tap at the front door grabs Morty’s attention and he answers it while Marissa watches me, a puzzled look on her face. She knows why I’m laughing but she doesn’t really get it.
Neither do I.
The guest at the door is Mom. She turns and looks behind her. “That was a close call,” she says, a bike helmet propped under her arm. “That’s the asshole from back home. That detective.”
“Asshole?” Marissa and I ask in unison.
She snorts. “He acted like I was complicit in my disappearance! Like Jeff and I planned. it. As if I’d ever leave you two without a choice.” She starts to cry. “Thank God for Mark.”
“What do you mean?” Morty asks, his arm snaking around Marissa.
“Mark found evidence of an agreement between Jeff and El Brujo,” she explains. “Makes it clear what happened. Loogie had no idea I was Jeff’s wife. Never knew I had daughters. Jeff told me never to tell, or something bad would happen to you two. The faked death, the burned bones—that was all Jeff’s doing. Fucker never really loved me. Just used me.”
“You really believe that?” I think back to when I thought the same was true of Chase. How my heart felt like it was made of glass and dropped from the top of a twenty-story building.
“Yeah. I do. Just because he fooled me into loving him doesn’t mean I’m stupid,” she says sadly.
“Mom, I didn’t mean—” I fumble to explain.
“No, no, I didn’t think you meant anything by it, honey,” she says to me. “Besides, no one can say anything I haven’t said to myself a million times. Jeff turned you and me into currency. We were just money in the flesh for him.” She looks at Marissa, then Morty. “And he would have done it with Marissa, too, if she hadn’t been so stubborn.”
“Stubborn?” Morty asks in a fake surprised tone. “Marissa doesn’t have a stubborn bone in her body!”
My sister whacks him in the chest. “Shut up!”
We all laugh.
“You wanted to move out here and I let you. Thank God. You were eighteen already and Jeff would have—oh, sweet merciful...” Her voice trails off and she looks at me.
“You’re free now. I just talked to Loogie. El Brujo is definitely done with you.”
“WHAT?” me, Marissa and Morty all exclaim.
She shrugs. “We told him the guy who helped you escape took your virginity, and he believed it.”
I think about Mark Paulson and blush. He’s not exactly my type. Then again, he looks just enough like Chase...
“A simple lie and that’s it? El Brujo’s done?�
� Marissa asks Mom. “I don’t buy it.”
“Between all the drugs and money that Frenchie stole from the house and gave to El Brujo, and the lie—yes. It’s all okay. Plus, Loogie got ripshit pissed at what Frenchie did to me and you, Allie. Used that as leverage.”
“I am in Loogie’s debt,” I say, serious. “How can I repay him?” I gulp. Bikers take owing them seriously.
So do drug lords.
Mom waves her hand and bends, setting the helmet on an end table. “He says you’re family now. No debt owed. But he does ask for one thing.”
I knew it.
“What’s that?”
“Stay away from Atlas club members. They’re bad, bad stuff.”
Chase.
“What about Chase?” I ask, the question suddenly urgent. I grab Mom’s arm and feel my skin under the bandage pull tight. It sends shooting tingles up my arm, the pain like hitting your funny bone.
Except ten times worse.
I make a grunt of pain and Mom cringes.
“It’s okay,” she says.
“Chase is?” I ask, eager for any news.
“No, no,” she adds. “I mean your pain.”
I wave my arm. “This? This is nothing compared to worrying that Chase is dead.”
I can tell by the look on her face she doesn’t have any answers. I sag against her, and we sit down on the edge of the frayed couch. Morty gives Marissa an inscrutable look and disappears.
Marissa sits on the floor, cross-legged, and looks up at me and Mom. “We may never know what happened to him, Allie,” she whispers.
“I can’t not know!” I say fiercely.
“It’s driving you mad, isn’t it?” Mom asks. In the kitchen, familiar steam noises ring in my ears. Good old Morty. He’s making coffee. When people are suffering, brew some coffee. Sometimes it’s all you can do to help.
“Just like when you disappeared,” I say, my face twisting suddenly with agony as tears obliterate all my thoughts. For the next few minutes all I know is a loud series of sobs. Inside, I feel like a giant hole. Like an asteroid landed on my chest and killed everything close, just leaving a crater.
A crater where my heart used to be.
“Oh, sweetie,” Mom croons. “I’m so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I wanted so badly to reach out to you and Marissa back then. I wasn’t allowed for the first year. They kept me under lock and key. I didn’t even meet Loogie that whole first year. It was...brutal.” The haunted look in her eye makes me do a double-take. It never occurred to me that maybe they abused her. Or worse.
“Mom, were you—” Marissa starts to ask.
Mom cuts her off. “I’m not talking about it.” But the grim set of her jaw tells me there’s a long, sad, sickening story buried deep inside. She’s not the only one with scars.
Inside and out.
“I thank God every day for Chase, honey,” she says to me, staring deep into my eyes. “He saved you. Whatever happened to him, he did it all out of love for you. Never forget that.”
All I can do is nod.
Big Morty comes back into the living room, two cups of coffee in his hands. He gives one to Mom and one to me, his wrist and the back of his hand sprinkled with cinnamon-colored hair. His skin is mottled with freckles. Kind eyes meet mine and he gives me a small smile. He’s a huge guy and compassionate, like a gentle giant.
I burst into tears.
“Not enough cream?” he asks. Marissa hits him. I laugh through my tears.
“No,” I say, sobbing with hitched breaths. “It’s just—it’s just—you’re being nice to me!”
“Would you stop crying if I became an asshole?”
“MORTY!” Marissa shouts, whapping him in the shoulder.
“Geez,” he mutters. “Women.” But he comes back to give Marissa her cup of coffee, then departs down the hallway, his wide shoulders hunched a little.
Mom gives Marissa a knowing look. “You got a good one.”
Marissa pretends to be confused. “What—him? Oh, he’s not mine. We’re not together.”
Mom and I snort in unison.
“We’re not! We’re just...you know.”
“Together,” Mom and I say.
“Shut up,” Marissa mumbles, sipping the hot coffee.
The three of us sit in silence and stare out into space, drinking our coffee and pretending we’re fine. Just fine.
It’s about all we can think to do.
Chapter Seventeen
Two Months Later
We’re on the beach, on a thick blanket on the sand. The flannel is worn and soft, like the thin wrinkled skin of my grandma’s hands, or the soft touch of a baby’s cheek. The softness goes on forever. It cradles my skin, the wind whispering sweet nothings in my ear.
I’m completely naked and open. The dark sky is above me, the stars smiling with grace. The rush of the ocean’s waves is the backdrop for this moment, and Chase’s fingers trace lines along my chest.
“This is the map of how much I love you,” he murmurs, lips teasing a line between my breasts. My delighted eyes find he’s nude as well. The sculpted lines of his taut body look like artwork in the moonlight.
“Here are the rivers,” he says, his tongue running along my ribs, leaving a shimmery line that glistens in the sparse night glow. I shiver. He laughs. The sound rumbles through me, transmitted from his flesh to mine by our connection.
Chase takes one nipple in his mouth and I gasp. My back arches up.
“One mountain,” he says, admiring my taut nipple. He gives the other the same treatment. A fever begins deep inside me, an inner warmth that quickly becomes a hot burn. My mind disintegrates and all I can think about is coupling with him. Inviting him in. Demanding he take me.
Being his.
“Two peaks,” he says, blowing lightly on both of my now-aching breasts.
I’m wet. Instantly.
A huge wave crashes onto the shore, the churning sound wild and luscious. It makes me hot and needy. My hands reach out to stroke his tight ass, the lines of his midsection honed by hard work and stunts. He’s tanned and multi-layered, with thighs that look like stacked cordwood underneath the skin. Chase is pure power.
“Here is a lake,” he says, reaching down to slide one finger inside me where I’m so wet he’s right. Pure liquid desire has pooled inside me. I clench, holding his finger in place.
He grins and adds a second, his thumb going exactly where I need it.
“Please,” I whisper as he kisses me, his lips impossibly soft, his tongue sweeping through my mouth in time with the little waves that lap at the shore.
“Please what?” he asks, teasing me. His mouth breaks from mine as he says the words against my teeth. My hands can’t get enough of his skin. My fingers run along the edge of bone where his shoulder blade cuts his back. I count his ribs. I dig my fingernails into his pecs as he lets go and slides his fingers out of me, cutting the pleasure.
“Please,” I beg. I can’t get enough. I need so much more.
A breeze catches my hair and I look down as he licks and kisses his way, then pulls up to face me—
And he has no eyes.
They’ve gone black, like someone has plucked them out, and he is crying tears of blood.
I try to scream but no sound comes out. The call of seagulls gets louder and louder as my throat closes. All I can do is make a choking sound. I’m frozen. I can’t move, can’t scramble away, can’t kick.
Chase’s hair turns into snakes, his face grotesque and ugly.
“Who are you?” I hiss, then try to scream. I can’t.
He sits up and I see his cock is enormous. It’s the size of a baseball bat. Then it morphs, slowly, as he smiles and shows teeth that are glowing, shiny knives.
His cock turns into a hypodermic needle as big as my arm.
“I am El Brujo,” he says. “And I’m here for you to cure me.”
“Allie! Allie!” Marissa is shaking me so hard. It hurts. Why is she hurting me?
&nbs
p; “EEEEEEEEEEEE!”
Who is screaming?
“Should you slap her?” a man’s voice says.
“You only do that in the movies,” Marissa snaps. “Get me a glass of water,” she barks.
I can’t feel anything except my heart, which is being tossed around in my chest like it’s been put in a dryer at the laundromat. I open my eyes and I’m panting. My hands are claws. The sheets are curled in my fingers and my throat is raw.
Morty comes running back. He’s wearing his boxer briefs and nothing else. His wavy hair is a ginger mop on his head. He hands Marissa the glass of water.
She sticks her fingers in it and flicks the water on my face. I see it all in slow motion. I don’t do anything. The droplets fly on my face. One lands in my eye. All I can do is blink.
I take another deep breath and start coughing convulsively. I’m covered in sweat. I’m sweating so much that my thighs stick to the sheets.
My arm bandage shows spots of blood blooming through the gauze.
“You’re having another nightmare,” Marissa says slowly. “You’re safe. It’s okay.”
I’m breathing in tiny little pants, like an overheated dog.
“It’s okay, honey. It really is,” she says in a tearful voice. Morty puts his hands on her shoulders and takes a long breath in.
“I’m...where am I?” I ask. The shadows in the room seem creepy. Dangerous. Marissa and I share her bedroom now and we got a futon on the floor for me to sleep on. The landlord doesn’t know I live here. Technically, it’s illegal, but I’m contributing to the rent. Arlen and Morty don’t care. Arlen’s hardly ever here anymore, but he still doesn’t want me using his room permanently. He plans to move out in two months, though.
Then I’ll get my own room.
“In the apartment,” Morty says. He glances at Marissa, then back at me. “What were you dreaming about?”
Marissa elbows him. “Don’t ask that.” She’s wearing one of Morty’s old t-shirts. It easily covers her knees. They both look a bit dazed. I clearly woke them up out of a dead sleep. Screaming? I’m screaming in my sleep.