Web of Lies

by Elizabeth Knox

  I will not let this slide, Alanna thought. These men have shown no mercy. You’ll show them none! These men took you from your home. Tried to murder Peck. Hit you. Beat you. Drugged you. Get them, before they get you. Strike first, strike fast, strike the hardest. Take no shit.

  From behind her, Alanna could hear a door creak open. As Stitches strolled in the door, a cold, calculating expression oozed from Alanna’s green eyes. Glancing around her, her gaze fell upon a black fire poker that leaned against the wall.

  “The Raven wakes . . .” Stitches said coolly.

  Alanna laughed darkly as she tried to shake off her stupor. Clenching her hands into fists, Alanna spat back, “Haven’t you heard?”

  “What’s that, girl?” Stitches said with a sly smile curling from the corner of his mouth.

  Reaching out for the poker, Alanna clasped the fingers of her left hand around the cool, hard surface. She held it tightly to her leg so Stitches couldn’t see. Peering over her shoulder, Alanna smirked wickedly at Stitches.

  “You can’t kill me,” Alanna said plainly.

  Stitches laughed dryly. “Oh no?”

  “No . . .” Alanna said straight-forwardly as she turned to face Stitches, keeping the poker hidden behind her leg.

  “How do you figure, girly . . .” Stitches asked as his smile began to fade from his face.

  Alanna laughed as she cut across the room. Keeping her eyes locked upon Stitches face, she replied callously, “You can’t kill someone who’s already dead inside.”

  “I’ll give you that. You seem to have a lot more grit than most guys in South End,” Stitches said with a laugh. “I have other avenues I could take; you know. I could just shatter your little boyfriend’s kneecaps.”

  If Alanna was enraged before Stitches came into the room, she was even angrier now. Stitches had pressed the button that turned sweet, kind, understanding Alanna into a maelstrom of anger, intensity and vengeful sanction. Stitches laughed, “You should’ve heard the way he screamed. A girl like you. You’re an 8 . . . 8.5 . . . What the hell are you doing messing around with a chump like that. A douchebag that can’t even protect his girl.”

  Not giving Stitches the benefit of seeing her sweat, Alanna refrained from letting any soft emotions show. With her nostrils flaring, she peered up at Stitches’ face with rabid intensity.

  “Get out of my way,” Alanna demanded through gritted teeth.

  “No can do, girl . . .” Stitches said as he closed the distance between him and Alanna. Reaching a hand out, he placed it on Alanna’s shoulder, stroking his thumb along the length of Alanna’s chin. “See . . . We have plans for you.”

  Running his hands gently down Alanna’s neck and over her breasts, Stitches kept his eyes drilled upon her face. Then, in a forceful tug, Stitches pulled on the material of Alanna’s shirt forcing her forward.

  No mercy, Lana, Alanna reminded herself. No fucking mercy. Not again. You will not go through that again. Now. Do it now! He hurt Cris! He will hurt you, too!

  Alanna’s thoughts were screaming at her as Stitches looked at her with a seductive gaze pouring from his eyes.

  “You hurt my Cristobal . . .” Alanna said through gritted teeth.

  With a cruel smirk, Stitches nodded his head.

  Alanna’s nostrils snarled as she glared up at him. As Stitches' hands traveled across her torso, clenching his fingers around the belt loops of her jeans, Alanna’s switch was flipped. A fury so great rose from her belly and erupted through one quick flick of her wrist. A flash of insanity sparked in her eyes as she reeled back her arm. Stitches recoiled as he saw the poker coming at him again and again. Alanna sent the poker crashing down upon the man that had hurt Cris over and over again, not relinquishing, not allowing him to strike back. Stitches tried to fight back, but Alanna was coming at him fast and furious. Alanna was careful not to puncture Stitches' skin. She didn’t want to kill him. She just wanted to teach him a lesson . . . and a lesson was most certainly taught. Striking him again and again, Alanna didn’t stop until Stitches was cowering on the floor, grimacing in pain. Then, as he peered up at her, Alanna placed her boot upon Stitches chest, she glared down at him. Speaking in a cold tone, Alanna spat, “You all fucked with the wrong girl, asshole! Raven ain’t the one!”

  Then in one fell swoop, Alanna swung the poker at Stitches’ face, slicing open his right cheek. As crimson dripped from his wound, he peered up at Alanna with a horrified look upon his face.

  “Crazy bitch!” Stitches spat.

  Alanna scoffed as she released the fire poker from her grasp. It clanged to the floor with a bang. Balling her fingers into a tight fist, Alanna sent a brutal sucker punch at Stitches. Her knuckles collided with his eye socket with a sharp snap. She hit him again and again, not allowing him a second to get up. Then finally, after a sixth hit to the head, Alanna released Stitches’ shirt. She peered down at Stitches’ bloody face and snarled at him. Reaching into his pocket, Alanna gripped a set of keys, snapped her eyes off of his face, and turned for the door.

  Creeping down a dark hallway, Alanna could hear muffled voices coming from another room. She recognized Luca’s deep voice, and she immediately began to panic. Turning around in the hallway, Alanna headed towards the back door, careful to be as quiet as possible. Glancing up at the clock, she noticed it read 3:01 A.M.

  The witching hour, Alanna thought.

  Not waiting another second, Alanna gently twisted the handle and stepped out into the abyss of night.

  Hector wound through the streets of South End with a nervous edge to his gaze. As he pulled around the corner of 6th and Morris Streets, Hector’s eyes fell upon the door of Luca’s club. The metal surface of the door had a large dent where Cris’s bat had collided in an attempt to bait Luca’s boys out to face him. Hector understood why his son did what he did. If Alanna was inside the club, he was determined to help her. Although Luca didn’t have Alanna inside his club, Cris was able to get a lead on where Alanna might be. He knew that his son wasn’t dumb by any stretch of the imagination. He did what he needed to do to help Alanna. Cris knew the risks of showing up at Luca’s door baiting him and his crew into a fight. Cris took a risk. Considering the alternative, Hector was relieved that his son fared well. When it came to messing with a Kingpin’s crew, you were lucky if you walked away without a bullet between the eyes.

  The street was eerily quiet. The typically crowded corners were deserted and the only cars on the street were parked for the night. As Hector peered around at the deserted street corners and the empty sidewalks, he got the eerie feeling that he was being watched.

  Tony sat beside Hector in the passenger seat keeping a keen eye on their surroundings. His brow furrowed as a troubled look creased his brow.

  “They all scattered like roaches!” Charlie spat from the backseat of Hector’s truck. “Where are they all hiding?!”

  Peering out his window, Tony replied, “Stitches said Luca was heading to Salem Point. Didn’t think he meant every last one of ‘em.”

  Hector shook his head, “No boys. I doubt that’s true. While Luca and a few key guys might be over in Salem Point . . . I think the rest of them are lying low. The cops were out tonight. None of them want to get arrested.”

  “Yeah,” Tony said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I guess that makes sense.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think he’d ever take all his guys out of South End. He’s got too much shit going on around here to leave his club open for anyone that wants to walk up,” Charlie admitted.

  “Shouldn’t we start looking in Salem Point, then?” Tony asked.

  Hector continued peering out his windshield with a troubled gaze. Shaking his head, Hector replied in a gruff voice, “No, we have people looking over there. There is a good chance that she is still in the neighborhood. Just keep your eyes peeled. We need to cover all bases.”

  Charlie slumped back in his seat as a harsh breath rushed from his mouth. Crossing his arms over his stomach, Charlie wore
a deeply troubled look upon his face. A moment later, he softly said, “God, I hope we find her soon.”

  Brian climbed into the paddy wagon and nodded at his partner Reggie.

  “Ready, kid?” Reggie asked.

  “Yeah . . . Gotta make a quick call first,” Brian explained.

  “Make it quick . . .” Reggie barked.

  Brian dialed a series of numbers on his cell phone and held his Nokia to his ear as the call connected.

  “C’mon Lucky . . . Pick up the fucking phone!”

  “Lucky?” Reggie asked with a laugh. “Stripper?”

  Brian rolled his eyes. “God no! You’d have to pay me to watch this fucker strip. Fattest Chinese kid I’ve ever seen.”

  “Interesting name . . .” Reggie said.

  “His father owns the Lucky Dragon restaurant in Chinatown. His real name is Liang Ho,” Brian explained. Then, as the phone rang for the sixth time, Brian became a little more irate. “C’mon, HO! Pick up the phone!”

  “First a stripper name. Now a hoe? Jesus, I need a new partner,” Reggie said sarcastically as a hearty laugh broke from his mouth.

  Brian shot a glare at Reggie. “It’s his last name, you old tool!”

  Reggie smirked as he brought his coffee cup to his mouth. “If you say so.”

  Brian and Lucky had a love/hate relationship. They loved to annoy each other to the ends of the earth They hated that they each knew exactly what buttons to press. But at the end of the day Brian and Lucky were as thick as thieves. Lucky was the one that introduced Brian to Torian, Peck and Lev several years ago at a party on South Street. Now, as young adults, Lucky worked as a toll booth attendant on the Walt Whitman Bridge, while Brian tried to maintain justice on the streets of South End. They both failed miserably at their jobs. Brian was far too street savvy to be a cop. Lucky, on the other hand, had to deal with people all day long, and he had no discernible people skills whatsoever.

  Finally, on the tenth ring, Lucky picked up his phone.

  “Bout damn time!” Brian shouted. “You at work?!”

  “Yeah, I’m at work! I work every night!” Lucky shouted into his phone. “What do you want?!”

  “I need you to look out for a car for me . . .”

  “Oh?” Lucky asked, sounding as if his curiosity was piqued.

  “White Mercedez Benz. Bullet holes in the rear fender. Busted back window. Did you see anything like that?”

  “No . . . but Sam, one of the other toll booth attendants mentioned how messed up this one car was. I bet that was it.”

  “Dude, we need to know for sure . . .” Brian said. “That bridge heads straight to Salem Point. There’s probably lots of fucked up cars that pass through.”

  “Yeah, man . . . Oh, you shoulda saw this one hooptie that came flying through . . .” Lucky began but he was quickly cut off by Brian.

  “Lucky! Focus! White Mercedes Benz . . .”

  “Uh, hang on. I’ll ask.”

  Brian impatiently waited as Lucky put a call into the other toll booth operator. He could hear his buddy’s muffled voice as he talked to a man named Sam. After a few moments, Lucky came back on the line.

  “Yeah, Sam said it was a white Benz. The back window was shot out. There were bullet holes all over the back and sides of the car. The windshield was busted. Before Sam could call port authority, the car was gone, hurtling across the New Jersey state line.”

  “Fuck. Okay,” Brian growled.

  “Why? What’s up?” Lucky asked.

  “Call me if you see it again,” Brian said just before hanging up the phone.

  “What’s that all about?” Reggie asked as he gave Brian a concerned look.

  “Kingpin snatched a girl.”

  “Another one?” Reggie asked.

  “Yeah . . .” Brian confirmed. “This one is different, though.”

  “Oh?” Reggie asked with his interest piqued. “How so?”

  “This one has the potential to cause some real problems for Pin. She’s got a temper, and she’ll never go down without a fight.”

  Reggie nodded. “Good, she’s gonna need that fight.”

  “That’s for sure,” Brian said. “Til the grandmother files a report, keep this between us. You know how things go ‘round here.”

  “Yeah,” Reggie said cryptically. “I sure as hell do. First sign of cops, and Luca loses his shit. Was that his Benz you were asking about?”

  “Yeah . . .”

  “Window shot out?”

  Brian nodded his head in confirmation.

  “Who shot it out?”

  “I know my buddy Peck shot out the back window and got some shots in on the fender . . . but I have no clue who shot out the windshield.”

  Reggie lifted his eyebrows as he soaked in the information. “Well, whatever the case is, Luca couldn’t get out of South End quick enough, it seems. That could prove problematic.”

  “How do you figure?”

  “Salem Point disbanded their police force last year. It’s complete anarchy over there,” Reggie told Brian darkly.

  Reggie didn’t get the reaction he expected though. Slowly, a devious smirk curled up from the corner of Brian’s mouth.

  “No,” Brian said wickedly as his buddy Peck’s face came to mind. He perfectly recalled the flash of insanity in his friend’s eyes. “That’s perfect.”

  Reggie’s face scrunched up into an expression of disapproval. Then, glaring at Brian, he shook his head, and barked, “You know what. I don’t wanna know.”

  Brian slammed down on the gas pedal and laughed, “Yeah, Pops. It’s probably best you don’t.”

  Alanna stepped out of the back door of the row house enveloped by the darkness. She stepped into the back yard, which was overgrown with weeds that climbed to her waist. There were glass bottles and trash discarded in the weeds, and who knows what else. Alanna’s heart raced as she made her way through the brush, unsure of what was waiting for her around the next bend, unsure of how she was going to get back home. Listening carefully, Alanna could hear nothing but the crickets chirping. She took a deep breath, trying to allow herself a moment of calm. It did nothing to settle her anxious soul. Breaking off into a run, Alanna kept to the shadows of the house, careful to be quiet as she ran from her fate. She ran fast, her heart hammering in her chest, as she desperately tried to break away from the clutches of the men that were notorious for breaking people, heart, mind and soul. Curling around the west wall of the house, Alanna continued to hurtle herself forward, but when the gentle click of a lighter struck, she stopped dead in her tracks. The hammer of her heart ceased to strike. Eyes wide with trepidation, Alanna could see nothing in the dark of the yard. Slowly, she turned and peered over her shoulder. The flame of the lighter illuminated a familiar face. Alanna took in the teardrop tattoos as recognition took over her mind.

  Angel.

  But Angel Lobiondo was anything but an angel. Panic raged through Alanna’s body as she took in his face.

  “Where you think you’re goin’, girl . . .” Angel asked coolly. “Kingpin’s got plans for you, Raven.”

  A sharp breath escaped Alanna’s mouth as she contemplated what her next move would be. Then, as Angel left his place on the wall and stepped towards her, fast and determined, Alanna broke off into a run. She could hear the sounds of passing cars nearby. Racing forward, Alanna ran towards the source of the noise. She could hear Angel’s footfalls behind her, slapping hard against the dirt in an attempt to stop her from escaping. As she continued to run away, Alanna’s thoughts screamed at her.

  Keep running. Faster. Go faster. Run through the pain. Work through the exhaustion. You have to let someone know where you are! But my cell phone . . . It’s dead! Think of another way. There has to be another way! Keep going Alanna! You can’t give up now! Run! There’s a payphone on Mercier Street! Just get to the payphone! Keep going! Push yourself!

  Alanna’s pace quickened. Angel was right on her heels as she veered out of the yard and onto the dark pa
vement. She could see a car’s headlights approaching. She recognized the car immediately as the badly battered white Mercedes Benz pulled up the street. The only thing Alanna could hear was her hammering heartbeat. She couldn’t hear the roar of the motorcycle approaching. She couldn’t hear the desperate plea of Peck’s call. She couldn’t hear anything but her own thoughts screaming at her to run.

  Run as fast as you can! Get away from Rugger Avenue! 6922 Rugger Avenue. 6922 Rugger Avenue. 6922 Rugger Avenue.

  Alanna repeated the address of the house over and over again in her mind so she didn’t forget it. Get to the payphone. Focus on one thing at a time. Just get to the goddamn payphone. Worry about the rest when you cross that bridge.

  Alanna sped up as she curled around Rugger Avenue. Ignoring the barrage of oncoming vehicles, Alanna tore off. But then, in a desperate attempt to stop Alanna from escaping, Angel leaped forward, caging his fingers around Alanna’s ankle. Crashing to the ground, Alanna grimaced as her body slammed against the concrete

  “Get off of me!” Alanna screamed as she fought against Angel. Angel pressed his body atop hers in an effort to immobilize her, but as he laid on top of her, Alanna’s arms and legs fought for control. She kicked and punched and shoved Angel, desperate to get him off of her, desperate to get back to her feet.

  “Hold the fuck still!” Angel spat as he tried to hold her down.

  Then, when Alanna continued to buck and break beneath him, Angel reached behind him, and pulled his gun from his waistband.

  Peck had a vicious look in his eyes as he trailed close behind Luca’s car. Turning right onto Rugger Avenue, Peck didn’t give Luca’s driver an inch of distance. He refused to let that car out of his sight. Pulling up outside 6922 Rugger Avenue, the car idled for a moment. Peck revved his engine loudly behind the car, baiting Luca out, but when he didn’t emerge, Peck brazenly pulled up alongside the passenger side door of the car. He inched closer and closer and could see a man’s silhouette through the dark tinted car window. But then something happened that Peck didn’t expect. Ripping from the side yard of 6922 Rugger Avenue, a pair of teens were running fast. One, a teenage girl, cut a ragged path across the street, appearing desperate to get away from whoever was chasing her. The other teen, a stocky boy, ran hard after the girl, appearing out of breath but not giving up the chase no matter how exhausted he felt.