by April Lust
“Nod if you know who I am,” he told her.
She nodded.
“Do you want to live?” he asked her.
Fiona nodded again. Her throat was dry with fear, and she knew if she tried to speak, her voice would crack.
“Then put your hands up slowly and turn to face me,” he ordered.
Fiona did as he said, wobbling from one knee to the other as she turned around.
If he had seemed like a giant outside, up close, on her knees, he was colossal. His massive, hulking shoulders loomed over her, and Fiona instinctively cowered a little, frightened by his emotionless expression. His gun, which was only a few inches away from Fiona’s face, took up the rest of her view. Suddenly, Fiona felt disastrously foolish in thinking she would be able to talk her way out of this without suffering dire consequences.
“Wh-what do you want?” she finally managed to stammer out.
“You know what I fucking want,” he said brusquely. “Where’s your brother going?”
“I don’t know,” Fiona said, far too quickly.
“What do you think, Vlad? Do you believe her?” Alexei said, speaking to the man who had appeared in the doorway behind Fiona.
Vlad stepped forward to stand next to Alexei. Fiona noticed he had a bad patch of road rash on his cheekbone, marring his porcelain skin. She mentally cringed, knowing she was probably going to pay for that, despite the fact that it was technically Niko who had knocked him down. Fiona doubted the man would see the difference.
Vlad turned his black eyes to Fiona. He seemed to delight in seeing her on her knees. “I think she’s a lying little bitch. Tell us where he is,” he commanded her.
Fiona said nothing.
Vlad let out an impatient sigh, softly tapping his shoes on the tile floor. Alexei reached one arm forward and, holding the gun in the other, grabbed Fiona by the wrist, physically dragging her to the living room as she vainly struggled against him. He dropped her, and Fiona pulled up her shirt to see several angry-looking scratches. Vlad may have had road rash, but Fiona’s midsection was covered in carpet burns, which, to be fair, could also sting pretty badly.
Fiona started to sit up, but Alexei kicked her arm out from under her, and she landed hard on her elbow, bruising the bone. “Tell me where Niko is going,” he repeated.
“I told you: I don’t know,” Fiona said through gritted teeth, cradling her arm.
The boot came out of nowhere, hitting Fiona squarely in the stomach. All of the air rushed out of her lungs, and she lay on her back on the floor, her breath hitching in small gasps. Tears welled in her eyes and slipped down her cheek to pool in her ears.
Alexei squatted down on his heels next to her. “Do you want to tell me now?” he asked, his cold voice settling on her chest, squeezing out what little breath she had. Even if she could speak, she would have said nothing.
Alexei waited a minute for her to catch her breath, but he quickly realized she wasn’t going to talk no matter how much time he gave her. He stood up, circled around and kicked Fiona twice in the back.
She cried out, pain racing down every nerve in her body. He pulled out his gun and shoved it in her face, but Fiona refused to flinch. She forced herself to raise her blue eyes to match his and stare him down.
“This is foolish,” Vlad suddenly said, his oily voice sliding over Fiona. Alexei stepped back to allow Vlad to glide over to her, his long limbs making it appear as though he was almost floating. “Why are you protecting your brother?” Vlad asked her. “He abandoned you here, all alone. He took your car and destroyed your home,” he said, gesturing imperiously to the garage door that lay in the street. “You’ve been cleaning up after him your whole life; don’t let him drag you down with him,” Vlad said pleadingly.
Fiona saw his black eyes gleam with something she very seriously doubted was concern for her well-being. Sizing him up, she pursed her lips, took aim, and spit square in his face.
Vlad immediately transformed from a “caring, nurturing friend” to a rabid animal. He snarled and savagely backhanded her across the face, splitting her lip.
Fiona spit again, this time spraying blood as well as spit.
“Look out there,” Alexei said, grabbing her by her bicep and pointing out the window. Fiona saw the man who had been in the grass earlier—the man she had inadvertently set aflame—still lay there. He hadn’t moved. “You killed one of my men today. You don’t know where your brother is, or you’re not going to tell me. Either way, you have proven yourself to be completely useless. Give me a reason not to kill you now.”
Fiona expected to feel sick when Alexei told her she had killed a man. She had envisioned herself throwing up in shock over the news, irreparably traumatized by what she had done. But what she felt now could be likened to perhaps a small glimmer of pride in having been able to protect her family.
“Did you hear what I said?” Alexei asked, prodding her sharply in the side of the head with the muzzle of his gun.
Fiona snapped out of her reverie. She took a deep, calming breath. She had practiced for this question. Doing her best to ignore the gun, which was still warm from all the recent firings, she answered. “Because right now you’re out at least thirteen thousand dollars, and I can get that for you.”
Alexei watched her, his face unreadable. Vlad was looking at her with a greasy smile that made Fiona want to shower.
“If you had thirteen grand, you would’ve given it to your brother and he would’ve handed it over to me,” Alexei said finally.
“No, no, I have it,” Fiona insisted fervently, “I just need a couple of days to get it.”
Alexei gave her a long look. His eyes flicked to Vlad and he arched an eyebrow at him, flicking his gun in Fiona’s direction.
Vlad stepped forward. “Either women truly are the weaker sex when it comes to the sciences, or your brother failed to properly explain things to you. His debt has a daily interest charge of ten percent, a generous offer,” he explained condescendingly. “If, and that is a very hypothetical if, we were to allow you this extra time to get your money, your brother’s debt would be seventeen thousand dollars, not thirteen thousand.”
“I can get it,” Fiona said without hesitation, trying her hardest to overlook Vlad’s patronizing air and misogynistic undertones.
“Why should we give you this extension? What makes you special?” Alexei said skeptically.
“Well, it’s not really an extension if you told him he had a week to get the money together in the first place,” Fiona shot back, her temper getting the better of her. She was rewarded with a swift kick to the upper thigh. Fiona felt her leg go dead and she toppled onto her side, literally biting her tongue to keep herself from screaming out.
“She’s a spicy little pepper, isn’t she?” Vlad said, grinning wildly. He seemed excited by Fiona’s outburst. His constant mood shifts confused and terrified Fiona, but she supposed perhaps that was the aim.
“You had better watch that attitude. At this point I’m nearly ready to shoot you dead and leave you here for your brother to come back to.” Alexei raised his gun to Fiona’s face once more.
“I’m sorry,” Fiona immediately replied, panting as she tried to push her thick hair out of her eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?”
Alexei gave her a long, hard look. “Not sorry enough,” he decided.
As his fist flew towards her, his huge, platinum, diamond-encrusted watch filling her vision, Fiona wondered if she truly was going to die tonight. Alexei hit her in the side, and she thought she heard something crack. This time, there was no stifling her cries; she screamed in pain, and her vision instantly began to tunnel and darken. She was going to pass out.
Alexei squatted down next to her again, Vlad standing just behind him. “Bring Niko back in four days’ time with the seventeen thousand he owes. You do that, and maybe I don’t bring you back to the club as a new toy for the boys,” Alexei said before standing up to leave. He stopped abruptly and turned back to her. “The money th
at you supposedly say you can get? I hope it’s not far. Because you’re not allowed to leave town, understand?”
Vlad bent down and gently brushed a lock of Fiona’s hair out of her face. She was fading fast. He leaned in close, whispering in her ear, “You’ve got a lot of fight in you, Fiona. It almost makes me hope Niko doesn’t return.” He smiled, and his black eyes were the last thing Fiona saw before she finally fell unconscious.
***
Fiona woke up with a gasp, letting out a soft cry. Her side was screaming in agony. She looked around the house. It was a little hard to tell, since the place had already suffered major damage, but it looked as though someone had trashed the place while she was passed out. The coffee table was smashed, and they had thrown all of the food from the kitchen onto the floor.
She slowly tried to sit up. It took her the better part of a minute to get to her feet. She cringed as the night’s events came back to her. How was she going to get the money from their father if she wasn’t allowed to leave town? There was no way Nathan would ever make the trip out—Fiona might have been able to lie or guilt him into giving them the money if she were right in front of him, but getting him to care enough to make an eight-hour ride to Chicago? Never gonna happen.
Even worse, now that Niko had taken off in her car, Fiona had to figure out how to make an extra four grand to replace the money she had been expecting to get from the car.
She only had one option left, it seemed. Ace. How the hell am I supposed to get a gang leader to help me? One who is a complete stranger, to boot, Fiona wondered. They had no money, nothing of any value. Borrowing the money from Ace would most likely mean they would just end up in this same situation in six months’ time, except instead of being tortured and killed by a Russian mobster, she could be tortured and killed by a fat, unwashed biker.
She needed to figure out something else, but nothing was coming to her. Her brain was completely tapped of ideas. It ran sluggishly, endlessly repeating one question: how was she going to convince Ace to take care of Alexei for her? Fiona kicked her leg out in frustration, striking a cupboard door. Pain shot up her leg where Alexei had kicked her, and bled into her side. She bit her lip against the hurt.
Suddenly, Fiona’s eyes flew open. Melanie. If Fiona knew anyone who knew anything about bikers, it would be Melanie. Fiona scrambled over to her phone as fast as she could. Thankfully, it had withstood most of the damage Alexei and his men had done to the place, and there was only a small crack in the screen. Fiona quickly dialed Melanie’s number.
“Hello?” Melanie said groggily, finally answering after what seemed like an eternity.
“Melanie!” Fiona cried. “Thank god you answered. I need your help.”
Fiona heard Melanie fumbling around in the background. “It’s two in the fucking morning, Fiona. What could you possibly need my help with?” In a quieter voice, away from the phone, Melanie told someone to go back to sleep.
“Please, Melanie, just know it’s important,” she pleaded.
“Okay, okay,” Melanie grumbled. “I’ll be right over once I get rid of this guy.”
Fiona hung up and looked around her place. Was there any point in trying to clean up before Melanie came over? She tried to bend over and put her standing plant upright, and her ribs felt like they were on fire, so she quickly stopped, dropping the plant back down to the ground.
She fell onto the sofa, and a million little bits of fluff flew into the air, shooting out from the two or three dozen bullet holes that peppered the couch. Fiona dozed fitfully until she heard a car pull up. She sat up, ignoring the pain as best she could, then gently laid back down when she realized it was Melanie.
“The door is open,” she called, hearing Melanie walk up the drive. It was pretty easy to hear everything due to all of the front windows being shot out.
Melanie entered slowly, astonishment written all over her face. “What the goddamn fucking hell happened here, Fiona?” she cried. Seeing her friend on the couch, she rushed over, trembling when she saw Fiona’s bruises. “Oh my god! Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Fiona told her, wincing as she sat up again.
“You are clearly not fine,” Melanie said, watching Fiona struggle. “You need to go to the hospital.”
Fiona shook her head furiously. “No. No hospitals. It’s okay. I got off light, relatively speaking.” She looked out the window and noticed the dead man in the street was now gone.
Melanie looked at her. “Light? You’re telling me that whatever happened here,” she said, gesturing around her, “you got off light?”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” Fiona said firmly.
“Then you’d better fucking tell me what happened,” Melanie said. “Now. Or I’m calling you an ambulance.”
“Please don’t do that,” Fiona begged her. “I’ll tell you, just…let me catch my breath for a minute.” Everything had happened so fast, it was difficult for Fiona to put it together chronologically.
Finally, she cleared her throat and gave Melanie the long and short of it, trying to downplay her brother’s role in the situation as much as possible. She didn’t want another lecture from Melanie about how Niko was bad news.
“So, you want to walk into the home of the second baddest guy in town, empty-handed, and ask him to take out the first baddest guy in town as what? A favor to you and your idiot brother?” Melanie said sarcastically. “Is that it? Do I have the gist? Are you fucking crazy?”
“Hey!” Fiona snapped, tired of being attacked for her risky plans. “If you have a few grand lying around that you’d like to donate to the cause, or an idea, you should have said something. Otherwise, maybe stop being so goddamn critical and help me!” Pain stabbed at Fiona’s ribs as she yelled. She winced, holding her side.
Melanie sat next to her on the couch, quiet. “Okay, no,” she admitted. “I don’t have any better suggestions, and I’m broke as fuck. So how can I help?”
Fiona bit her lip, thinking hard. “I don’t know,” she confessed, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “I don’t know what to do, Melanie! I can’t think of anything! How can I convince this guy to help me?”
“It’s all right,” Melanie said soothingly, hugging Fiona gently, taking care of her injuries. “We’ll come up with something together, okay? If nothing else, I’ll be right there by your side when you walk into the lion’s den.”
Fiona sobbed into her friend’s shoulder. “I’m so scared, Melanie. They’re going to kill us.”
“Hey,” Melanie said, reaching down to pick up a towel scrap that was on the floor, using it to wipe Fiona’s tears. “That’s not going to happen. We are going to figure this out.”
Melanie stood up, holding both of her hands out to Fiona. “Come on. I think I have an idea. But first, we need to clean you up.”
Fiona took Melanie’s hands, gingerly pulling herself up. Melanie helped her to the bathroom and cleaned her cuts as best she could. Fiona had a split lip, and what looked like the beginnings of a black eye, as well as an impressive array of bruises that covered her midsection. The spot where Alexei had kicked her in the ribs was already turning black.
“I’m really worried that you have internal bleeding,” Melanie said.
“You’re wasting your breath,” Fiona told her as Melanie dabbed hydrogen peroxide on her cuts. “The hospital is going to ask too many questions. They’re going to get the police involved, and I already told you why that can’t happen.”
“Okay, okay,” Melanie muttered. “No hospital. But if you pass out, I will call an ambulance. There,” she said, stepping away from Fiona, “you’re all patched up. Excluding your fractured rib and probable concussion, of course,” Melanie added mockingly.
“Thanks, Melanie. I feel better already,” Fiona said, smiling gratefully at her friend. “So, what’s your idea?”
“It depends,” Melanie said, looking Fiona up and down. “How much leather do you own?”
Chapter 3
Ace lea
ned back in the wooden chair and rested his cold beer on his thigh. The Crabtree was packed tonight, and the room seemed to practically vibrate with energy. The number of gangs in the area, and the number of members themselves, had dropped considerably since the Russians had come to town, but you wouldn’t know it looking at the place right now. The music thudded in his ears as he watched The Hell Brothers enjoy themselves.
“Look at Smalls,” Katie said next to him, nodding towards a large man with a long blond-gray ponytail.
Smalls’ cheeks were ruddy; he was in a drinking race, his massive paw gripping the base of a pitcher of beer as he gulped down its contents, tiny rivulets running down his long, greying beard. He took his last swallow and won, laughing as he held the glass pitcher aloft. Smalls slammed the glass down on the table in victory, sending cracks all through the pitcher’s base.