Holding Onto Hope

by L. Grubb

  Back in the bedroom, I notice my heap of clothes on the floor and grimace. Realising I don’t have any clothes to wear, I sit on the bed and contemplate. What the hell am I going to do? I have no clothes and I’m sure when they come for me in the morning, they’ll expect me dressed. I chew what’s left of my nails as I think.

  Looking towards the wardrobe, I start to wonder if there is anything in there. I mean, they anticipated my arrival as they were surely looking for me for the past couple of months since my dad passed away. No harm in looking, right?

  Getting up from the bed, I make my way around the corner of the bed and open the door to the wardrobe, noticing the loud creaking that sounds more like nails on a chalk board. I grit my teeth against the incorrigible sound and sneak a peek inside.

  My mouth pops open when I see all the clothes crammed in there, hanging down from metal hangers. Most are small, revealing dresses but there are a couple of maxi dresses too. I pick out a black, cotton one and slide it over my head and letting the towel slip from my naked body.

  The dress fits me snugly, the material soft against my raw skin. There’s no floor length mirror to look in so I twist and turn my body to make sure it fits properly. The bust is a little loose, but I do have bigger than average breasts to contend with.

  At least I have clean clothes on and I’m wiped clean from the ordeal of the basement, the kidnapping… everything. I know I can’t wash away what’s happening to me even though I wish I could. I just have to deal, get on with what they want me to do and pray for a flippin’ miracle.

  I open the drawers that are attached to the bottom of the wardrobe and find lacy knickers and socks scrambled together. That’s a bonus, I thought I was going to have to walk around commando. Slipping on a pair of black frenchies, I instantly feel more comfortable.

  My hair is still a knotted mess but I’m unable to find a hairbrush in this crappy room. I lay back on the bed, my head on the pillows and blow out a breath. What do I do now? Do I leave the room? That thought alone makes me shiver and I decide that I absolutely won’t leave unless I’m asked to. This is my life now; I better get used to it.

  Mack

  “We’ve looked everywhere, asked everyone, and we’re still no fucking closer to finding Hope,” I growl into the room. My men are sat with tense expressions. “They have to be somewhere. Going by past experiences, I’m taking a guess a them being in plain view.”

  “Plain view? If that were the case, we would have found her by now.” Ranger is angry, understandably. His sister was kidnapped at a young age and was found many, many, years later when she was sixteen. She was selling herself, addicted to heroin and a complete fucking mess. She killed herself whilst in rehab and it shattered Ranger’s family. His heart bleeds for her every day and I know it does, he was unable to save her and every time we get a situation like this, he wants to be the hero so he can rid his guilt for a little bit.

  “Don’t be a smartass, it’s happened before.” I give him a pointed look before taking a drag on my cigar. “Did anyone go to the care home to speak to her boss and colleagues?”

  “Yeah, me and Grizz did, Prez.” Crank raises his hand halfway in the air and turns his attention from his wringing hands to me.

  “What did they say?” I ask, sitting back in my chair.

  “Same as they did when we first questioned them five days ago. She left for her lunch break and never came back. Also, she usually heads to subway for her lunch according to her friend. We took the liberty of getting the CCTV from where the care home is and all through the route to Subway.” Crank coughs into his hand for a second before continuing, “Rexx is checking out the footage now, it may take a few hours, he said.”

  “Why didn’t we have the CCTV five days ago?” I will myself to stay calm. We should have had this shit already.

  “We couldn’t convince the people who look over the city to give it us. We didn’t mention Hope because you didn’t want us to, this time we mentioned a young lady had been taken and they readily gave it up.” Crank gives me the stink eye, but I didn’t want to disclose what we were doing in case it got back to those fuckers.

  “Alright. Anyone got anything else?” Everyone shakes their heads. “Dismissed.”

  The squeak of the chairs as they stand up has me locking my jaw in annoyance. Worst sound in the fucking world if you ask me. I stay sat in my chair, puffing on my cigar as I get lost in my thoughts.

  I feel like I’ve let Hope’s father down. If he’s looking down on us now, he’s probably cursing like a fucking sailor and threatening to stab me to death, either that, or a bullet between the eyes. Hope was his baby girl, even though I know they didn’t get on well until his final months. She’s also a stubborn mule. I hope to God she manages to keep her defiant nature, as her dad once told us, to a minimum. The last thing we want is for her to wind up dead.

  My head thunks onto the table and I growl into the empty room. We need to find her before it’s too late. I don’t relish in the idea of her father’s ghost haunting the clubhouse for the rest of our lives.

  “Prez? You need to see this,” Rexx says from the doorway, startling me. I lift my head and the anxious expression on his face makes me move my arse out of my chair and to the door quicker than you can say ‘club whore’. I follow him to his gadget room, we call it that because it has so many monitors and keyboards, plus other shit, that nothing else can fit into it.

  “What am I seeing? Which monitor?” His set up is confusing as hell, but it works for him and it gets shit done. Rexx is the best there is at the whole computer bullshit.

  “The big one in the middle, Prez, same as every other time you ask me that.” He laughs as his fingers click away on the keyboard.

  “Don’t be a smartass, I never know with all this bloody shit in here.” I scratch the top of my head and wait patiently.

  “Watch this.” He presses the enter button the big monitor in the middle flashes to life. I’m looking at the side of a brick wall with the sign for the Royal Bank of Scotland, nothing is happening and I’m starting to get a little agitated.

  Just as I’m about to say something, a young woman in a nurse’s uniform walks into the frame. Her straight, brown hair falls over her shoulders and the scowl on her face tells me she wasn’t in the best of moods. Usually, CCTV footage is grainy, but Rexx knows how to make it a little better and the features are easy to make out. Her small lips are pursed and her brows are almost crossing in the middle of her forehead. Even with the petulant look on her face, she’s stunningly beautiful.

  The sound of the roaring pipes of motorbikes fills the room, and Hope looks up, startled. She’s standing stock still as a bike stops in front of her, blocking the path. Others roll up and surround her and she looks fucking terrified. A pang of something hits my chest and I swallow around the lump of anger in my throat.

  The conversation that fills the air around us has me gritting me teeth, my jaw clenched shut tightly and my hands fold into fists. They knew her father, he betrayed not only Hope but us as well. He told us he only worked for us when we needed him but it seems he didn’t tell the whole truth. He was tainted, just like the rat we had all those months ago. As the guy gets in Hope’s face, I have to physically restrain myself from punching one of the high tech screens.

  As the guy turns away from Hope, I commit his face to memory, though I don’t need to. The guy stood there, right up in her grill, is none other than Lynx, president of the Devil Heads MC. I thought he was dead, I thought I put that motherfucker six feet under. How the hell did he survive the bullet I shot into him? I growl, and then roar into the room. “FUCK!”

  Rexx sits there, head hung slightly and silent. He knows not to try and talk to me when I’m in this sort of mood. He knows I’ll lash out at him if he says the wrong thing.

  Not saying any more, because Rexx is a good kid and the last thing I want to do is scare the shit out of him, I leave the room and straight to my office and ignoring Ranger who’s calling my name
. I slam my door shut, making the shelves and the window shake and rattle.

  Slumping into my worn office chair, I lean my head back and try and get my heavy breathing back under control. My rage, my own self-control, is on the brink of breaking and I’m now more determined than ever to find those fuckers. I have a feeling I know where they are now, it’s just getting close to be able to confirm without them seeing us.

  “Mack?” Ranger says as he opens the door. “What’s happened to make you look like such a pissed off bear?”

  I chuckle at that. “You were right, it’s the Devil Heads MC. But it’s who’s leading that’s got me in such a tizzle.” I scrub a hand down my face and over my stubble.

  “Who?” Ranger takes a seat on the couch in the corner of the room, putting his legs on the metal coffee table.

  “Lynx.” His name coming from my mouth makes the anger bubble that little bit more.

  “What?” Ranger’s shocked voice rings out through the room. “But you killed the fucker. I was there.”

  “I thought so too but CCTV doesn’t lie, Ranger.” I glance at him and his face is scrunched up in confusion. “I’m as clueless as you are, mate. But now I know that, I have a feeling I know where they are. Like I said in Church… plain view.”

  “Fucking hell, Mack.” The disbelief in his voice matches how I’m feeling on the inside, though rage is more prominent in me right now.

  “I know.” I cough to clear my throat before continuing, “I need two guys to go scope it out. Has to be in a car that doesn’t make them suspicious, plus, they can’t wear their cuts in case they’re spotted.”

  “Who though? They know me and you, Grizz, Crank and Rexx.” I can see the wheels in his brain turning as he thinks of who can do it. “How about Tips and Ginge?”

  Tips and Ginge aren’t high ranking members but are still brothers none-the-less. They’re fully fledged and have been with us for years. They don’t do runs unless we need people that other clubs don’t know. In other words, they’re kind of like our secret weapons. “Yeah, sounds good. Clue them in and I’ll get the address to them in about ten minutes. I just need time to calm the fuck down.”

  “No probs, Mack.” Ranger stands and leaves the room, closing the door with a soft click.

  Once again, I’m left with my own thoughts, I can hear the tick-tock of the wall mounted clock. It’s irritating me as my nerves are on edge. I’m not scared easily, and I’m not so much scared now as I am pissed off that I failed in killing that cunt.

  It’s easy to let emotions rule a decision so I will myself to calm down, taking lungfuls of air and blowing it out. I light a cigarette and puff on it until it’s finished. Light headed and a lot fucking calmer, I leave the confines of my office and head back into the main room.

  “Ginge? Tips?” My voice booms around the room, startling some of the brothers. “Can I have a word?”

  They get up from their post at the bar and walk towards me with frowns on their faces. I guess I still sound pissed off even though my heart rate is back to normal and my pulse isn’t racing a mile a minute. “Don’t worry, lads, you’re not in trouble.” I chuckle. I see their shoulders relax and shake my head. They would have known, for sure, if I was pissed at them.

  “What’s up, Prez?” Ginge asks, raking his hand through his longish, red hair.

  “I need you and Tips to go on a stake out for me. You can’t wear your cuts and you have to be as inconspicuous as you possibly can. You cannot be seen, do you understand?” They both nod but don’t say a word as they wait for me to continue. “I’ve written down the address for you. I need to know when they’ve all left the building at one time, I need to know their routine. Understood?” I hand them the notepad paper with the address on. I suspect it’s where they are anyway.

  “Understood, Prez. Shall we go now?” Tips asks. I give them a look to tell them they’re completely stupid. “Okay, we’ll leave now.”

  They turn on their heels and hurry away, removing their cuts and placing them on the edge of the long bar. I watch as they leave through the main doors and blow out a much needed breath.

  Ranger comes up to me and pats me on the back. “We’ll get Hope to safety, don’t you worry.”

  “I’m more worried about what else we’ll find when we get in there. We both know these men don’t fuck about and we also know where they make the majority of their money.” That being said, a shiver races down my spine. Child trafficking is frowned upon by MC’s, well, most of them. There’s always that one club that likes to do what the fuck it wants and think they can get away with it. We know though, they did it before I attempted to kill Lynx, there’s no telling what they do now with their system being clean for a long while.

  Ranger’s face contorts in anger at the mere thought. “I hope to fucking God they haven’t been doing it again. I’ll get Rexx to hack into the security systems for Scotland Yard, see if there are any missing kids.” I nod at him and he walks off to the gadget room, disappearing behind the door.

  This shit just keeps getting worse and worse. A shit storm is coming and we better be ready.

  2 days later.

  “What d’ya have for me, boys?” I ask as Ginge and Tips enter my office. “Please, let this be good.”

  “They all leave around midday, Prez. Not sure where to, but no one seems to be left behind. Even their prospects go. They return about two hours later,” Tips says around chewing his gum.

  “Okay. Thanks, lads. Go have a beer and some sleep.” I shoo them away with a wave of my hand and they leave without another word.

  I tap my fingers on my desk, lost in my own thoughts. Why would they all leave and not leave someone there to protect their assets? Assets being the girls and whores or whatever. Are they really that confident that no one will find them? They’re fucking idiots if they think that.

  Heaving myself from the chair, I leave my office in search of Ranger, finding him with a whore pinned against the wall. “Ranger? Need a word.”

  He whispers something in the girl’s ear and moves away, winking at her. I roll my eyes because he does this with all of them and they all fall for his charm. “Wassup?”

  “Ginge and Tips just came back and told me Devil Heads always leave at midday for around two hours, including prospects. Round the men up and tell them we’re heading out at eleven-thirty sharp. I don’t want any fucker late, make that clear.”

  “Sure thing.” He salutes me and wonders around the room to everyone, telling them our plan. I head to the room I have here for some shut eye. No point in going home when I have to be here in the morning anyway.

  Hope

  I’m an awful stripper, so I’ve been told. I’ve mentioned more than once to these people that I have never stripped or danced in my life and to cut me some slack. I got a back-hander for speaking to the members like that and I’m still sporting the bruise on my cheek. Learning to keep my mouth shut is so hard when all you want to do is throw a raging bitch fit at these people. Fear of getting hurt helps me bite my tongue, especially after the hit I took yesterday.

  “Come on, darlin’, you can do better than that!” An overly obese man shouts from the front row. He has grease staining his shirt and food in his beard. I fight to keep the bile from rising up my throat. His dirty grin and decayed teeth make me want to retch. I close my eyes and picture myself in a different place, gyrating my hips and swirling around the pole. My dress is already off and I’m left in stockings, thong and a nude bra that doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

  Most of the guys tonight are fully fledged members of this atrocious club; they’re all slimy in their own way and they all give me the creeps. They shout obscene abuse at me and I have to take it like a ‘good little girl’ as Lynx would say.

  I feel dead inside, the ache in my heart from my own father deceiving me hurts like hell and seems to be the only emotion I have left. My stomach clenches every time I leave the confines of my room; not knowing what’s going to happen is the worst sort
of surprise, and I don’t like surprises at the best of times.

  The song ends and the relief that washes over me makes my legs want to buckle. I gather my clothes from around the stage and head behind the makeshift, shitty curtain into the crappy little dressing room that has two vanities and a clothes rail for the slutty clothes we’re made to wear.

  I should be grateful that I’m the lucky one. The other girls are like ten years younger than me, the girl that showed me to my room was fourteen, I found out. She’s made to sleep with all the men when they want to and you can see the fight and life has left her; her eyes are dull, hair limp. My heart aches for her, it really does.

  I quickly get back into the dress I came out in, hurriedly might I add… it’s not unusual for the men to come back here to try their luck. They did last night.

  Hurrying out of the back room, I speed walk across the main room floor and up the stairs. I throw myself into my room and lock it before letting out the breath I held the whole way up here. My heart is beating against my ribcage, threatening to break free. My head is banging from the awful music I had to dance to.

  I can still feel the bass of the music from downstairs, vibrating the floor I stand on. I’m in a desperate need for a shower, to wash away the looks those awful men gave me. I can still feel their eyes raking over my body as I wiggle about on stage in stupidly high heels and in my undies. I’m mortified, I don’t think it will ever get easier. Enduring the ordeal is all I can do though, whether I get rescued from this hell hole or not is a question the lingers in my mind. I don’t really have friends and all my family are no longer here. I have no one who will notice my disappearance, except work. I sigh as I wash myself with the flowery scent of shower gel and tears stream down my face. I don’t know how long I can keep going in this place, I’m not sure I’m strong enough to endure the stares, the talk and the catty bitches that walk around, eyeing me like I’m an intruder and in some ways I am. I don’t belong here. I don’t want to belong here.