A New Life Series - Finisher Set

by Samantha Jacobey

  The other man agreed, making the call and then announcing he was ready to move back below. Reaching the larger passage once again, Enrique pointed out the small drawings he had noticed etched next to the entrance of the smaller tunnel. “See, Fox Tunnel,” he indicated the small red creature.

  “Holy shit,” Michael admitted, “I didn’t even see those. Fuck, man! So which way is the Raven Tunnel?!?”

  “Calm down,” Enrique directed, “I know you’re upset, but you gotta focus. Losin’ it ain’t gonna help her.”

  Michael breathed in deeply through his nose, “Yeah,” he agreed in a quiet voice, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “Ok, have you seen anything that you would call a ‘raven’? I mean, what’s it supposed to look like?”

  “I dunno,” his cohort replied, his eyes looking up at the ceiling, “I wished they left us a map… you know… like the ones at the mall. The ones that say you are here.”

  “Yeah,” Michael agreed, “That would’ve been nice.”

  Poor Man’s Justice

  Tori lifted her face slowly, searching through the dark strands of hair that hung in front of it. Peering between the waves, she could make out part of the room before her.

  “Hello, beautiful,” a voice called softly.

  Lifting her head completely, the obstruction fell away, and she could see her hands suspended above her. My God, no wonder my shoulders ache. Her wrists bound by leather straps, her body hung from the ceiling, and her feet curled on the floor in her unconscious state. Placing them flat, and standing, she relieved the strain on her joints, still unable to lower her arms completely. Shorter girls would be left hanging from this thing.

  The man laughed, teasing her, “Didn’t you think that was funny?”

  She looked around, locating the speaker to glare at him. “What’s funny?” she growled. Glancing down at herself, she realized that she was naked, briefly wondering what he had done to her while she had been out. Glaring back at him, she waited for him to respond; so this must be Rico.

  “You,” the smile disappeared. “You’re not beautiful. You’re an ugly piece of shit!” He rose from the stool where he had been perched, reaching her and slapping her across the face. At her failure to react, he lay into her for several follow-up blows.

  Tori set her jaw, closing her eyes and breathing deeply. The pain he inflicted became a part of her, and she did her best not to utter a sound. Hang on baby girl; you can’t give in.

  Stepping back when his arm grew tired, he scowled at her. “You know,” he stated bitterly, “Most girls cry when you hit them. Hurt them enough, and they all do. But not you. Why is that?”

  “Because I’m an ugly piece of shit,” she replied calmly between labored breaths, “And you gotta do better than that limp dick swing if you wanna impress me.”

  His laughter rolled again, even louder than before. “You have spirit. I like that.” He turned his back on her, making his way over to the bar and pouring himself a drink. “I have to admit; I’ve been looking forward to meeting you for a while, Tori. And you have not disappointed me.”

  Returning with his glass, he sat back on his stool. “However, it’s time for the games to end. I know that you are the one that has put us in such a bind. What I don’t know; is why. Where did you come from? Why are you here?”

  Tori stared at him, unwilling to allow him to unnerve her. “You tortured Doug. I’m sure you know why I exist.”

  “Doug? That sniveling little Fed!” he raised his glass and pointed a finger at her, then swirled his drink. “He told me you would get the better of me, but I hardly think you will be of any consequence.”

  Tori stared, an evil sneer curling her lips, “Is that so.” She flexed her fingers, willing the blood to flow. “You obviously don’t believe that.”

  “And what makes you think I don’t believe it?” anger crept into his voice.

  “You wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of retrieving me, if you did,” she hissed. Watching with an unwavering stare, she observed while he finished his beverage and stood, placing the container on the bar.

  Turning, he strolled casually up to her, grabbing a hand full of her hair. Pulling it, he forced her head back, so that her face pointed at the ceiling, her neck drawn tight.

  Panting, she waited, her mind turning how she could escape. Feeling his lips against the taught flesh that covered her windpipe, her eyes slowly closed, and she waited.

  His hands roamed over her body, sliding and grasping. She became aware that her flesh burned with fresh cuts and welts, his fingers moving to toy with her breasts.

  “You’re awfully tall, for a woman,” he breathed against her neck, releasing her hair and allowing her to pull her head up and catch her breath. “I’m going to break you, Tori,” he whispered.

  “Is that what you want? To own me? To possess… me?” she asked in a low tone, her lower lip began to quiver. When he didn’t respond, she tried again, “Why is it that you’ve brought me here? What do you have to gain?”

  “There is nothing to gain. There is no purpose. The only reason,” he clasped her nipple, twisting it until she could no longer hide the agony, “Is to punish you. To torture you for as long as I can. Either until we are found, which I doubt will ever happen… or until you die. And I assure you,” he placed his mouth close to her ear, his fingers flicking her bruised areola, “It is going to be a slow… painful… death.”

  Tori closed her eyes, his words fading into a distant murkiness. Struggling, she tried to hold on, but she could feel the darkness creeping in around her. She could hear the sound of blows landing, dimly aware of being struck. Her efforts futile, her consciousness slipped further and further away, until it had been lost completely.

  Enrique quickened his pace in an effort to keep up, “You think this’ll work?”

  “I have no idea,” Michael replied, “But at this point, it’s all we have.” Arriving at the club tunnel, they began the ascent. “When we get outside, you make the call, check in one more time and give them our location. But be quick. The bar will be closing soon.”

  At the top, Michael peered through the grating, seeing a pair of legs moving inside the stall. Waiting until they had exited, he then turned the latch and pushed the door open. Sliding out onto the floor, he stood, allowing his comrade to join him.

  Pushing through the thinning crowd, they picked their way outside. Flipping his phone open, Enrique informed the agent they were back at the bar. Listening for a moment, Michael could see him nodding, and then he ended the call. “They’ll be here soon, with a whole swarm of agents. They haven’t called in the local police, but I think they may do that as well.”

  “Great,” Michael replied. “But I’m not waiting for them. And I don’t think the local police will help. Something tells me this place isn’t a secret to them.”

  Enrique nodded, having had the same idea.

  Returning to their table, the pair took up their post as the room cleared, and only a few patrons remained. Eventually, the barkeep would turn on the lights, and begin calling out that it was closing time, and everyone would have to leave. Stepping into the bathroom just before he did so, the two men lowered themselves back into the tunnel to wait. A few minutes passed, and the building grew eerily quiet. Able to exit their hiding place, they found an old man sweeping the floors, a younger one placing the chairs up on the tables.

  “Excuse me,” Enrique called loudly, slowly easing the pistol out of his pocket and pointing it at the younger of the two, “We need to gets a little information from you.”

  Michael grabbed two of the chairs, placing them next to one another and indicating for the two men to sit. Instead, a couple more men came tearing in from the offices down the hall, and the partners found themselves in the midst of a genuine brawl.

  Using whatever they could get their hands on as weapons, often down to their bare knuckles, they each allowed their rage to consume them. Pulling her knife, Michael cut and slashed wildly, dimly aware that he co
uldn’t kill them all as he would need at least one to show him the way.

  A few minutes later, the group of ruffians had been dispensed, and Enrique grabbed at the old man, laying him out and pressing on his gaping gut. “Which way is Raven Tunnel?” he demanded.

  The old man’s eyes stared blankly, and he made no effort to respond.

  Tired of the fight, and over his need to remain civil, Michael slapped their prisoner in the head, “Talk, you old bastard! Which way do we go to get to Rico’s house! And don’t pretend you don’t know… An old geezer like you, I’m sure you know all about The Organization.”

  The brown orbs didn’t falter, “We don’t talk about it.” His face remained placid, “Talking gets you killed.”

  “Well, if you tell me, there’s a chance you get to live. Otherwise, you’re no use to me, and you will die.” Michael shifted his gaze over at his cohort, giving him a nod.

  On command, Enrique shifted his position, adding pressure to the wound, causing the old man to groan loudly.

  The old bastard is tough; he eventually had to admit, when they weren’t getting anywhere. “Get off him,” he tossed his chin into the air.

  The man doubled over in agony but wasn’t ready to give up.

  Reaching into his pocket, Michael pulled out the wedding band, shoving it under his victim’s nose, “You see this? It belongs to my wife. They took her, and I’m here to get her back.”

  Holding his gut, the blood oozed across his fingers. Pulling himself up, he snorted, “You’ll never get her back. No girls never come out of the tunnel once they go in.”

  “Just point us which way and we’ll sees about that,” Enrique challenged.

  Staring up at him, “What the hell…” he panted; “It’s your funeral. Take the turn to the left. It’s a long way down, couple o’ miles. Look for the raven, on the left.”

  As soon as he finished speaking, Enrique finished him off with a final swipe of his blade, muttering, “No loose ends.”

  Leaving the old man’s body where it lay, the pair bolted for the bathroom, sliding into the tunnel once more. They moved quickly, climbing down the narrower portion, and leaping out into the main shaft. Michael in the lead, Enrique followed, calling, “I hope we’re not too late.”

  “We’re not too late,” the other man replied, “We’re going to make it. Have to make it. And you can get your ring, and we can have our baby, and we get to have our lives; whatever we want them to be.” He focused on the path ahead of them, rocking his jaw side to side as he thought about all the things that were at stake, and how badly he wanted those things.

  Arriving at the designated tunnel, Michael stopped to stare briefly at the small black bird carved into the rock, its wings spread in flight. They climbed quickly, arriving at a normal sized door at the top. Grasping the handle and giving it a turn, Michael cracked it a small amount, peeking out to discover an expanse of grass before him. Pushing it open wider, he stepped out into a garden area.

  Turning to gaze around, he noticed that the box that housed the entrance was covered in vines, well hidden once the door had been closed behind them. Moving over, next to the wall of the estate, they remained in the shadows as they continued to peer around and formulate their plan.

  “We gets into the house over there,” Enrique pointed out the entrance eagerly.

  “Yeah,” Michael nodded. “You have any rounds left?” he inquired, recalling having heard shots back at the bar.

  “Sure, a few,” his partner agreed.

  “Alright, let’s make our way across and get inside. We kill everyone we run into, knives if we can; bullets if we must.” He held up his hand, another thought occurring to him, “Send Eli a text; tell him how to locate the right tunnel.”

  “Ok,” Enrique pulled out the phone and typed in the message, then fell in behind him as they moved, keeping to the dark areas as much as possible.

  Arriving at the sliding glass door, Michael moved the large pane inside the frame slowly, causing almost no sound. When it had opened about twelve inches, he turned to his side, and they crept in, moving across the tile floor. Looking around, he hoped to locate the security cameras if there were any, but didn’t have any luck.

  Turning down a hallway on the far side of the room, they wormed their way through the house, pausing periodically to listen to the silence of the massive structure. Finding an indoor pool, they worked their way around it, and were met by a surprised guard, who immediately attacked them.

  The pair killed the man with ease, relieving him of his pistol. Holding the weapon in front of him, Michael continued through the corridors, leading the way. Hearing the faintest of cries, he stopped in his tracks, “You hear that?”

  “I hears it,” the other man replied. “Keep going.”

  A moment later, they turned a corner, and the scream became a high pitched wail, then cut off abruptly, falling into silence. Panic gripped the two men, and they raced forward, bursting into the room.

  Tori hung from metal supports in the ceiling, her arms extended above her. The Ramirez brothers were enjoying their time with her, the sight sending her rescuers into a wild fury.

  Taking the two men by surprise, the pair unleashed their fury and flung themselves upon them. Beating them until they could no longer resist, the younger men left them laying on the floor, unconscious and bleeding out rapidly from the holes they had been given.

  “We should torture them,” Enrique panted when they were broken.

  “No, let them die,” Michael countered, standing and turning to the girl. Reaching her, he lifted her limp frame, calling loudly, “Get her down. Cut the straps or something.”

  Enrique used his blade, fighting to push it through the thick leather. When she was finally free, Michael laid her lifeless body on the floor, pushing her hair back away from her face and tracing the line of her scar.

  “She’s breathing,” he whispered, “Call and get us an ambulance. Call Eli, too, and tell him we found her.”

  Dashing away to locate a land line, Enrique placed both calls simultaneously, straining to maintain his sight on the couple. When he had finished, he grabbed a white linen table cloth and carried it over to wrap her in. “How is she?”

  “Bad,” came the reply, “She’s still unconscious. They hurt her…”

  “She’s gonna be ok, Mike. We made it. We got our justice. She’s been avenged.”

  “No, this isn’t really; poor man’s justice maybe. It cost us too much,” he adjusted the cloth around her body, noting the dried streaks of blood on her legs. “Please God, let us keep her,” he begged. Please, don’t take them both.

  Life of Choice

  Tori lay still, slowly becoming aware of the ache that seemed to reach every part of her being. Breathe, baby girl. She could hear the beeps… distant, but growing nearer. Oh dear lord, where am I? Lying still, she continued to force her chest to rise and fall, focused on surviving.

  Uncontrollably, her eyes fluttered, and she could hear the voices breaking through the darkness. The sounds of men were coming closer, her flesh burning. Allowing her eyes to open slowly, she stared at the white square tiles above her, oh my God! I’m in the hospital. She gasped loudly for air, hot tears burning her eyes and running down her temples.

  “Tori?” a male voice spoke, so close and yet so far. “Tori, can you hear me?”

  She felt his hand on her arm. Shifting her gaze, she found him. “Eli,” she breathed more than she spoke, a small amount of drool oozing from her mouth. Reaching, he brushed her cheek, wiping it away.

  “Welcome back!” he called softly, turning to speak to the other man in the room.

  Special Agent James Godfry ambled forward, taking his place on the opposite side of the bed. “Hello,” the round man said in a hushed voice, “Good to see you alive.”

  “Am I?” the girl managed, her brain continuing to pick up on more sensations, becoming aware of the hiss of the hose that ran to her nose. Lifting her arm ever so slightly, she detected
the tubes, yup; I’m a mess. “How did I get here?”

  “Michael,” Eli supplied, “And I guess Enrique gets some of the credit. They hunted you down. Found where they had taken you, and busted the place up. Literally.”

  Tori grimaced, unable to produce a real smile. “Are they ok?”

  “They’re fine,” Godfry spoke crisply. “They’re outside, along with your band, manager, and God knows who else. You really know how to draw a crowd.”

  Tori’s mouth twitched, not sure how she felt about that. Lying still, she breathed deeply for a few minutes, the two men watching her while she gathered her strength. Eventually, she tried unsuccessfully to sit up.

  “Just rest, baby girl,” Eli called softly. Leaning forward, he held his face above hers, and she caught a whiff of the gel in his hair. “All you have to do now is heal. There’s no more bad guys to tear it all apart,” he consoled her.

  “Are they really gone?” her words were ragged, her chest heaving.

  “Yes, they’re really gone,” his hand reached to smooth her hair. “You’re free, baby girl.” He paused, not sure if he could bring himself to push on, not ready to leave her either.

  “Am I still pregnant?” her voice remained low, her bottom lip picking up a tremor.

  Eli continued to stroke her, “I’m going to let the doctor talk to you about that.” He drew in air loudly through his nostrils, “I hear that Enrique has moved in with you and Michael, in that humongous house of yours in Texas.” He glanced over at his superior, recalling what he had said about the girl, and her need to be surrounded by men. “I’m sure the rest of the town will be real receptive to that.”

  “I don’t care what they think,” she countered, her voice growing stronger. “I’m so lucky, Eli. Some people spend their whole lives, searching for just one person who thinks the world of them, and I found two.”