by Amity Cross
Being the middle of the night, there weren’t many people around. I could hear the sounds of men coming and going—sexual and nonsexual—as I walked the halls. Damn orgasms. Damn Chaser!
Shaking out my frustrated limbs, I found the door to the roof and opened it. No one stopped me. If I was going to fling myself off the edge, it seemed no one was very concerned about stopping me. Glancing once more over my shoulder, I climbed the stairs.
Pushing open the door, a cool breeze wafted into my face, and I sighed. It wasn’t much, but it was better than inside. The air was clear, albeit tinged with pollution, and I filled my lungs to the brim before letting it all whoosh out. Total cleanse.
Walking to the edge of the building, I peered over the edge to the concrete below. Grimacing, I immediately moved away. Nope. Not for me.
Overhead, the sky was tinted orange by the city. Lights stretched as far as I could see, tangerine and white twinkling on a landscape I would never be a part of. All those people with their families, their fame, mundane jobs, morning commutes, and petty squabbles. What kind of life did I want? Hell if I knew. All I’d wanted was to be somewhere else other than here.
And now? After the things I’d seen… A future where I was safe. Where Chaser and I were free. That was all I wanted.
I felt his absence more keenly up here. I wasn’t sure why, but it felt like a place he would like. It was away from the chaos downstairs and more in tune with the solitude we’d had on the road. Our world was small then, more manageable. Here, it was too big to keep up with. Whatever happened next, I knew I wasn’t made for great things. Small, simple, and quiet. That was where I belonged. Kind of went against the whole leading Fortitude thing I had going on.
Angling my head toward the sky, I was disappointed I couldn’t see any stars. The moon was a quarter full, but it was all that was up there. Humanity’s mark had invaded the skies.
A hand fisted into the back of my hair and twisted, the abrupt movement taking my breath away. Gasping for air, I cried out as my scalp burned. That was when my fight mode was activated. My body had sensed a threat and lashed out big time.
I kicked backward at my assailant, and a male grunt signaled I’d gotten him in the shin. His grip loosened on my hair, and I turned. Harley. I knew this moment was coming eventually, but I was hoping it would be later. Much later.
The one second it took for me to shake off my shock was all it took for him to grab me again. He pushed me backward toward the edge of the roof, and I stumbled and fell. Letting out a scream, the wind was forced out of my lungs as I landed hard.
Harley was on top of me, his hands tightening around my neck. He squeezed, and my fight mode turned into full-blown panic as I realized my head was hanging over the edge of the building, a hair’s breadth away from a three-story drop onto the concrete below.
“This’ll teach you to mess with me, bitch,” he growled. “Who has the power now?”
My heart twisted, and panic set in. I trembled, a sob working its way up the back of my throat, but the hands around my throat caught it. Suddenly, I was back there, back behind the dumpster at Teasers, Pube Face Bailey’s knife pressed against my neck. It would be so easy to turn my head to the side… No!
“No one would ever know it was me,” Harley said with a malicious grin. “I could toss your little bitch ass over the edge, and it would look like a suicide.”
I clawed at his hands, the broken remains of the acrylic nails Sierra had given me tearing at his skin. If I could just kick him in the right place, he would let go, and I could shove him off the edge instead… I would not go slack. I wasn’t that woman anymore. I wasn’t.
Fight, Sloane! Fight!
“Eat shit,” I got out. “Eat shit and die.”
I tensed, readying myself to buck with all the energy I had left…but his hands slackened, and his head jerked to the side. He fell to the ground, his head cracking on the concrete roof.
Chaser stood over us, a plank of wood in his hands, his expression full of rage. Deadly, chilling, pulse-pounding rage.
Harley didn’t get up. He didn’t even twitch, but I knew he wasn’t dead. Chaser wouldn’t kill him.
Scrambling away from the edge of the roof, I coughed, my throat scratchy as hell. Why did men like choking so much? What a mystery to be thinking about now of all moments.
Chaser threw the plank, and it clattered to the ground as I climbed to my feet, my head still spinning from the decreased levels of oxygen.
“What did you do that for?” I shrieked, shoving him as hard as I could.
“What the hell?” His mouth fell open, and he threw his hands into the air. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“I’m trying to win people to my side!” I exclaimed. “Then you come in to fight my battles. Mine!”
He cursed, rubbing his hand over his face.
“I had him,” I said, knowing full well there wasn’t much truth in that statement. “I had him.”
“Me fighting for you is not weakness, Sloane.”
“They won’t just follow anyone, let alone a woman. I need to give them a reason to follow me.”
“By more of the same?” Chaser asked, raising his eyebrows. “By being a bigger maniac than Marini?”
I shoved him, and he stumbled, his boot barely missing Harley’s ugly unconscious face.
“If I fight for you, the man who’s—”
“Indentured to my father,” I interrupted. “You fight for him. Not me. You saved me on his orders. See the difference?”
“Be careful,” he said. “This was our battle, remember?”
“Don’t patronize me. I know what I said. I promised to get you your revenge. That didn’t include asking you to fight for me.”
Reaching out, Chaser cupped my cheek in his hand and stroked a thumb across my lips. “Don’t lose yourself to this,” he murmured. “That’s all I meant.”
I’d never seen him look this…tender. It threw me for a second, and some of my anger slipped away. Was he right? Was I forgetting what all this was about. If he hadn’t turned up when he had… I couldn’t say with one hundred percent certainty I would’ve been able to stop Harley from throwing me over the edge of the roof.
“Go get Gasket,” Chaser said. “I’ll stay here with him.”
“But—”
“Sloane.”
I hated when he said my name like that. Like I was being a naughty child. I wanted to rule the world. I wanted to be the strong one, no matter what. Maybe it wasn’t worth the cost.
“Harley needs to answer for this,” Chaser went on. “It’s not about being Marini’s daughter. It’s about defying his president’s direct orders. This attack is against Fortitude.” He gave me a pointed look. “Get Gasket.”
I nodded and rubbed at my neck before pushing through the door. Moving back into the compound, I was hit with a wall of stifling heat as I found my way to Gasket’s rooms.
I knew it was coming. Harley’s revenge. Knowing didn’t make it easier to face or to deal with the aftermath.
I rapped my knuckles on Gasket’s door until I heard thumping from within. When it wrenched open, his expression turned from annoyed as all hell to surprised in under a second. He was shirtless and wearing nothing but a pair of silky boxers. It so wasn’t the time to give him shit over his choice in underwear, but I so wanted to take a dig at it.
Gasket grasped my face in his big hand and tilted my head to the side. “What happened?”
Twisting away, I scowled. “Harley.”
Gasket’s expression turned positively demonic. “Where is he?”
“On the roof with Chaser.”
“Shit.”
His expression didn’t change as much as I thought it would as he yanked me inside and closed the door behind us.
“You know, don’t you?” I asked, my heart beating at a thousand miles per hour.
He grunted as he dressed—a T-shirt he picked up off the floor and a pair of jeans—finally putting his big feet in
to his boots.
“Gasket.”
He sighed sharply and looked at me. “You think you can rule Fortitude, but it isn’t for you, Sloane.”
“You don’t know that. It’s been a long time since we knew one another. I’m not the child you helped sneak out of the compound anymore.”
“No, you’re not. But if you think you can get away with staging a coup without your father knowing it’s coming, you’re in for a rude awakening. My guess is he’ll be waiting for you long before you work up the nerve to strike.”
I slammed my palm down on his shoulder, forcing him to face me. “He knows?”
“He suspects, which for you is not a good fucking thing right now. Those suspicions could turn into something else very easily.”
Why hadn’t they, then? My mind worked overtime, dwelling on Harley up on the roof and what Marini did or did not know. If he suspected, then why wasn’t he acting? Suspicions were usually enough for him to pull the trigger. It could only mean one thing.
“He’s got something planned for me,” I said, my eyes widening. This was the false sense of security I’d feared all along. I thought I was winning, but in reality, I was the one being manipulated.
“This is not the time, Sloane.” Gasket moved around me.
“It never is!”
“Stay here,” he ordered. “We’ll talk about this another time.”
“Gasket.”
He shook his head. “I’m not askin’, girl.”
I took a step toward the door, but his glare was enough to put me in place. He’d never looked at me like that before—like he wanted to show me what real discipline was. I wasn’t his daughter, but he sure as hell thought I was.
Gritting my teeth, I stayed put. With one last warning glare, Gasket slammed the door closed and left me alone in the safety of his room.
I didn’t want a bunch of men running off to my rescue, but here they were doing just that.
Chapter 14
Chaser
Gasket and I hauled Harley’s unconscious body to Marini’s door.
It wasn’t the ending to the night I was planning on and not the way I wanted to see Sloane again, but around here, I couldn’t choose my fate. It was all up to the roll of the dice.
Marini wasn’t pleased when he opened the door.
“What’s this?” he asked, looking down at Harley, who we’d dumped on the floor in the hall.
“He attacked Betty,” Gasket said, making a point of using her original name. Until now, he’d been calling her Sloane.
I snorted. The many faces of Gasket.
Marini made the same sound and threw the door open as wide as it would go. “Get him inside.”
Gasket and I took an arm each, and we dragged him into the room, sitting his fat ass into one of the dining chairs as Rick appeared like the bad smell he was. On call twenty-four seven to mop up his boss’s victims’ blood stains.
“Rick.” Marini crooked his finger, and the kid came running, eager to do his master’s bidding. “Get a bucket of cold water, and toss it on him.”
Gasket glanced at me, and I shrugged. I didn’t think that worked, but stranger shit had happened.
“Explain,” Marini barked as Rick left to get a bucket.
“After I spoke to you, I went to the roof,” I said. “It’s usually empty. No one goes up there.”
“Why were you?” The president’s eyes were cold.
“To clear my head. Have to after a job.”
He snorted. “And?”
“Harley had Sloane on her back, half hanging over the side of the roof, with his hands around her neck. Choking her.” I curled my lip, glancing at Harley, whose own head was lolling forward. “I would’ve thrown him off the edge myself, but I knew you’d want the honors.”
Marini’s eyes sparkled, and I expected some sadistic torture was coming. “Where is Betty now?”
“In my rooms,” Gasket replied.
“She wanted to play,” he murmured. “She wanted to be part of Fortitude. Maybe it’s time for her to see what happens to those who cross me.”
I wanted to correct him and say ‘those who pissed him off,’ but I might’ve added myself to the hit list. I’d once seen him stab a fork through the hand of the previous shitkicker before Rick. Why? Simply because the kid had accidentally put too much pepper on his steak. That was the kind of man who dealt out the punishments around here.
On cue, the door opened, and Rick came in carrying a full bucket of water. It sloshed, melting ice cubes rattling against the plastic.
“You used ice?” Marini asked, his face twisting.
“The cold is supposed to shock him awake,” Rick replied. “Makes it more confusing.”
Marini shrugged and snatched the bucket. Aiming it toward Harley, he threw the entire contents at the biker’s face. Water splashed everywhere, but with the heat we’d been suffering for the past week, it was a welcome comfort to be drenched.
It seemed to do the trick—thankfully, for Rick’s approval rating. Harley coughed and spluttered, his eyes flashing side to side as he regained consciousness. When his eyes unglazed and fixed on Marini, he looked like he was about to piss his pants.
The president smiled, taking out his executioner’s revolver, the gun Sloane had found so pretty, and waved it in Harley’s face.
“Wakey-wakey, sunshine,” Marini chortled. “Daddy’s got a surprise for you.” He reared his hand back and brought it down, smashing the butt of the revolver against the side of Harley’s head, snapping it to the side.
Harley blinked, fighting another wave of unconsciousness, and Marini slapped him awake again. Blood trickled down his face, mingling with the water and carving a deadly line across his pale cheeks before matting into his ratty beard.
“Explain yourself,” the president roared.
“Bitch disrespected me,” he mumbled. He hocked, then spat a gob of blood onto the floor.
“You put this whole club in jeopardy, do you understand that?” Marini paced like a hungry lion. “I’ve got plans for her. Big plans. Plans that will benefit the entire club. You almost fucked it up, Harley.”
I glanced at Gasket. What plans? What was Marini getting at? If anyone knew, it would be Gasket. He was second-in-command.
The big biker narrowed his eyes, signaling he didn’t know what the hell Marini was talking about. Shit, shit, shit.
“Lock him up,” Marini said, curling his lip. “Kick him around a little before you go, too.”
“What are you going to do with him?” Rick asked, eyeing the beaten up biker.
“You’ll have to wait and see.”
I raised my eyebrows, giving Rick a look that said he was a dumbass. What did he think was going to happen to the guy? Harley’s story only had one ending, and it wasn’t a happy one. If, by some miracle, Marini allowed him to live, it wouldn’t be much of a life.
We locked Harley in a disused storage closet that had been converted into a cell. It sat on the lower floor of the compound right above the basement and had all the mod cons. Slate gray feature wall, white cornices, a rendered concrete bench to sleep on, and a heavy duty lock on the unbreakable metal door. Conveniently, there was a drain in the middle of the floor.
Gasket dumped Harley on the bench, and I stood back as Rick got a few kicks in as per Marini’s orders, then locked the door behind us. I had to know what Marini was planning, and if anyone knew, it was that little piece of shit.
Glancing at the biker next to me, the man who said he cared about Sloane like a father, I didn’t need to explain to him what I was about to do. All he did was nod to let me know we were on the same page.
I waited until Rick was walking down the hall with his back to us before I sprang into action. It was past time to shake this little asshole down.
Striding up behind him, I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck as Gasket opened the door to the basement. The kid yelped as I hauled his ass down the stairs and pushed him against the side of the boiler. Overhe
ad, the door slammed closed, and Gasket appeared beside me.
“Fuck!” Rick exclaimed, scurrying across the floor like the rat he was.
He was on his feet in a flash, looking for an exit, but I shoved him up against the wall and held my forearm on his chest. Leveling my gaze, I sneered. “You’ve got a smart mouth on you. You like pretending your little dick is huge, huh?”
“Get off me!”
“What is Marini planning?” I asked, jamming my arm harder against him. “Talk.”
“He doesn’t tell me anything,” he said, sniveling like a little pig. “I just follow orders. Same as you.”
“See, here’s the thing. I know all about little shits like you, Rick. You like licking the assholes of more powerful men, believing you’ll rise to the top by eating their shit. It doesn’t work like that. Weak men lick, Rick. Weak men like you. When the blood stops running, all you’ll find out is that it was just shit all along. You ate shit.” I inched closer, triumph coursing through my veins as his pupils dilated in fear. “You’re a shit liar, too. You wanna know how I know? Weak shits like you love to press their ears up to doors and listen to conversations that aren’t for them. Like a rat scurrying through a crack. Now…are you going to piss your pants, or are you going to tell me what you know?”
“D-don’t kill me,” Rick stuttered, showing off what a big man he was. A child barely out of diapers way in over his head.
Gasket shifted behind me. “Start talking, kid, or this won’t end pretty. You know what Chaser is.”
Rick was shaking, unable to control his fear. Soon, he would be catatonic.
“What is Marini going to do to Sloane?” I shook him.
“Last time he was going to sell her to the Venturas,” he spat out. “As a whore. The Venturas like to share, you know.”
“Get on with it,” Gasket snapped. “We know this shit.”
“He’s going to sell her off again,” Rick exclaimed. “To make things go away.”