HOT as F*CK

by Scott Hildreth

  My eyes fell closed.

  Give me the strength to let go, Lord. That’s all I ask.

  He took a step back and nodded toward my feet. Before I had a chance to resist, pull away, or say anything, the hammer came crashing down onto the top of my right foot.

  My back arched, my mouth shot open, and I screamed like a newborn baby.

  The pain was unimaginable.

  I gulped a few breaths, and then looked down.

  He’d missed my toes, but hit the top of my foot so hard the skin was split wide open, revealing a snow-white sliver of bone.

  I began to blubber and sob.

  I was done. I couldn’t take another moment of torture. I inhaled a choppy breath, closed my eyes, and tried to get my sobbing under control.

  I was going to die, and I needed to die like a man.

  As I sat with my eyes closed and prepared to die, my right foot felt like it exploded into a million pieces. Then, a more horrendous pain consumed my entire body.

  My eyes burst open.

  I looked down.

  Upon seeing what had happened, my entire body tensed, extracting what little energy I still possessed straight from my soul.

  The big toe of my right foot was mangled into a bloody piece of unrecognizable meat.

  I tried to clench my jaw, but my lips were quivering in spams.

  After a moment of collecting my thoughts and channeling what little composure I had left, I fixed my eyes on Tattoo and shot him an evil glare.

  “I killed…I killed those piece of shit drug dealing fucks,” I said through my teeth. “And, just so you know I’m the one who did it, one had Calle 18 tattooed on chest, and an eyeball on the back of his fucking head. Then I set the girls free. On my way out, I took the money…”

  I turned my head to the side, spit on the floor, and then met his wide-eyed gaze. “And I gave it to the fucking police. Go talk to detective Watson. He’s waiting for you to come claim it. Pudrete en el infierno, Maricon.”

  I knew my statement would cause him to realize there was no way to get his money back.

  The last thing he’d do was go to the cops.

  My telling him in perfect Spanish to rot in hell, asshole would let him know he’d beaten on me for two days without breaking my spirit. I was sure it was enough to get him to kill me, and that’s what I wanted.

  It was over.

  They could beat me to death with the hammer, but they could never hurt Alexandra, and that was all that mattered.

  Take care of Alexandra, Lord.

  I closed my eyes.

  Now. Please, set me free.

  Chapter One Hundred Two

  Lex

  Peyton was Crip’s girlfriend, and Tegan was Pee Bee’s. Together, the three of us sat in Pee Bee’s home, talking.

  They tried to comfort me, but there was little that could be done to settle my nerves completely. Each passing hour brought along with it a reminder that the chances of Adam ever coming home alive were less and less.

  “It’s midnight,” I said. “And we haven’t heard anything since they left. Nothing.”

  Peyton, full of nervous energy, was pacing the floor. When she spoke, she talked a thousand miles an hour, but everything she said made sense. For the most part.

  Tegan, on the other hand, was slightly more reserved, but still outspoken. She seemed to think a little more before she spoke.

  “They won’t call until it’s over. And then, maybe, and I mean maybe, we’ll get a call,” Peyton said. “And they won’t text, either.”

  “Why can’t they just give us an update?” I asked.

  “Too much risk. No calls, no texts. If they do call, it’ll be a one word cryptic statement. We’re just going to have to keep waiting.”

  My heart hurt, and I felt like I needed to remind myself to breathe. Over the course of the night, it became worse, and worse.

  As the dull thud of pain pulsed from my chest, I looked at Peyton. “I feel like I’m going to die.”

  She stopped pacing and looked at me. “Cops find criminals all the time, but not because they’re gifted. Believe me, I’ve researched more cases than you can imagine. Do you know how they solve most crimes?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Snitches,” she said. “Informants. Someone outside their force.”

  “Okay,” I said, not quite following whatever point she was trying to make.

  “Okay. So, if cops solve crimes by talking to informants, and not from actually finding facts on their own, it means that anyone with the ability to extract information from the public could do the same, right?”

  I nodded. “I suppose so.”

  “Crip’s a former Navy SEAL. He’s the real deal. I know earlier you said you thought he was a dick, and you’re right. He is. But he’s a dick that cares for his brothers like they’re his flesh and blood. If Cholo can be found, he’ll find him. He will.”

  “And when he does, you can bet Pee Bee will crush whoever is in the way,” Tegan said. “He’s the protector of these guys, and he takes his position of Sergeant-at-Arms to heart.”

  “I get that. I do,” I said. “They’re trying to find him, and when they do, there’s going to be hell to pay. I just…”

  I let out a sigh.

  “What?” Peyton asked.

  “I think it’s too late. They’ve had him for, what? Maybe almost two days?”

  Peyton looked at Tegan.

  Tegan took a breath, let it out, and stood up. “I remember when I met Cholo. We went to Palm Springs to a rally. There were like, I don’t know, a thousand bikes parked in a field, and people everywhere. I don’t know, maybe more.”

  Peyton nodded. “There was 5,000.”

  “Okay, 5,000,” Tegan said. “Anyway. I wanted to go down on Pee Bee’s cock right there at the rally, and I didn’t care who saw it. Cholo was standing guard over the bikes, you know, making sure nobody fucked with them. So, anyway, Pee Bee asked him to keep an eye out for us.

  So, I sucked Pee Bee’s dick right there on his bike. The entire time, Cholo stood and glared out at the sea of motorcycles. Believe me, I was watching.”

  She paused and put her hands on her hips. “So, afterward, Pee Bee turned to Cholo and thanked him for keeping an eye out. Cholo looked at us, nodded his head, and went right back to mean-mugging the crowd of people. Well, while we walked up to the tent to get some barbeque, I thought about how much he was protecting, and what everyone was risking by leaving their bikes parked out in that field.”

  I liked hearing her story, and imagined Adam flexing his muscles at anyone who passed by, but had no idea why she was telling me.

  “He was watching a hundred bikes,” she said “At $20,000 each, that’s $2,000,000 worth of merchandise. And, I wondered why would someone allow one person to be responsible for the well-being of two MILLION dollars’ worth of bikes. After I got to know Cholo, I realized why they chose him.”

  I liked her story. I grinned for the first time of the night. “Why?”

  “Because Crip might be the best trained. And Pee Bee might be the meanest. But, the toughest? The pit bull of the club? That one guy that nobody wants to see get mad? That man is Cholo. He’s the toughest one of the bunch. Believe me, Cholo will never, and I mean never give up.”

  I looked at Peyton.

  “True story,” she blurted. “Cholo’s one tough son-of-a-bitch. Toughest of the entire fucking club. And not to go on and on about my job, but if there’s another thing I’ve learned in my research, it’s that in circumstances like these, giving up is dying. Those who don’t give up? They get through it. He’s going to be just fine, because he’ll never give up.”

  My lower lip started to quiver. “Do you…really? You really think so?”

  Peyton opened her arms. I stood up and stumbled toward her.

  “He’s not a quitter,” she said. “He’ll hold on until they get to him.”

  I felt like a child, but I couldn’t help myself. I fell into
her arms and sobbed on her shoulder until my muscles ached.

  I wanted Adam back, and I wanted everything that I didn’t have the courage to do with him to happen. I wanted to make love to him, and I wanted him to kiss me. I wanted him to make me tacos, and I wanted to go see Maria again.

  I wanted to sit on his bike in the garage and make my tears go away.

  The sound of Tegan’s phone ringing caused me to tense. She ran to the kitchen, pulled it from her purse, and while Peyton and I stared at her with open mouths, she looked at the screen.

  “It’s Pee Bee!” she shouted.

  She swiped her fingers across the screen repeatedly, and finally answered it.

  “Hello?”

  She held the phone against her face with a shaking hand. In each other’s arms, Peyton and I walked toward her.

  Tegan didn’t say another word, she just listened.

  As we stepped in front of her, her eyes went wide. Then, then phone slid from her shaking hand and hit the floor with a clank.

  And she burst into tears.

  Chapter One Hundred Three

  Cholo

  “Kill thees mother fucker,” Tattoo said. “Slow. Shoot him in the legs, then the deek. Then shoot his stomach. Then…”

  I opened my eyes. I wanted one more glimpse of the son-of-a-bitch who was going to kill me, so whenever he showed up in hell, I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd.

  In my second life, things were going to be different.

  After I burned an image of him in my brain, I closed my eyes. I heard the metallic click of a weapon being taken off safety. The end was mere seconds away.

  I love you, mother.

  And, I love you, too, Alexandra.

  I clenched my jaw and prepared to die.

  A few seconds passed. The rifle fired, making a terrible explosion.

  And then, another.

  And, another.

  But I felt no pain.

  The sound of being shot had deafened me, but somehow, I was conscious. It felt like a dream. I’d read about people being killed, and that although the amount of time it took for the brain to register that the heart had stopped beating was short, the eyes could still see for that instant.

  I opened my eyes.

  Through the smoke, I saw soldiers. They were all crouched down no differently that I’d seen them in movies. Methodically, they advanced toward me, each armed with a rifle.

  Tattoo fell at my feet. Then, one of the two sick bastards who’d tortured me fell. Then, the other. The soldiers grew closer, and closer...

  I was dreaming.

  In my passage to wherever God was sending me, I was being saved. At least in my mind.

  I felt a tug on my arm. Then, through my ringing ears, I heard a voice.

  “Don’t touch him, Tree Top!” I heard someone yell. “I’ll get him.”

  I looked up. A tall soldier towered over me. His helmet and goggles came off and dropped to the floor at my feet.

  I blinked.

  The angel was Pee Bee.

  He shouldered his rifle, and then parted his quivering lips. “What…what’s shakin’…mother…fucker?”

  Upon hearing those words, I exhaled a light laugh and smiled for the first time in two days.

  God had a sense of humor.

  I felt myself being lifted from the chair. I looked around. Another soldier took off his helmet.

  “Where’s your pants, Brother?” he coughed.

  Crip?

  “Building’s clear!” I heard someone shout. “Three tangos, KIA.”

  The ringing in my ears had lessened, and was now down to a low roar. The door at the end of the building was getting closer, and closer. It felt as if I was being carried toward it.

  Confused, my eyes darted around the building. Then, I looked to my right, at the man carrying me. A tear rolled down his cheek.

  “Am I…” I blinked a few times, and then stared. “Is it you, Peeb?”

  “It’s me, Brother,” he said.

  “Am I…Am I…alive?”

  “You’re one tough motherfucker,” he said. “You look like fuckin’ hell, but, yeah. You’re alive.”

  I looked to the left, and then the right. A van with two soldiers standing beside it was waiting in front of us.

  I realized I was, in fact, alive. My brothers had saved me. A feeling of euphoria filled me, and along with it came a pulse of energy. As the two soldiers took me from Pee Bee’s arms and lowered me onto a gurney, I raised my hand.

  “Where’s…where’s Alexandra? Is she…” I pressed my tongue to the roof of my swollen mouth. “Is she okay?”

  He nodded. “She’s with Tegan.”

  “Call…her,” I said. “And hand me the phone.”

  Chapter One Hundred Four

  Lex

  Tegan bent down and picked up the phone. She wiped her tears with her arm, and then met my gaze.

  It was bad news. I was sure of it.

  I began to sob.

  She shook her head and extended her arm. Through her tears, she forced a smile. “It’s…it’s for you.”

  I reached for the phone.

  “Hello?”

  “Alexandra?”

  Hearing his voice caused all my muscles to tense. My heart rose into my throat. “Adam?”

  “They didn’t kill me,” he said. “But they made me realize something.”

  Warmth shot through me. I bit against my lower lip to keep it from shaking. “What…what’s that?”

  He sighed. “I need you.”

  “I need you, too,” I blubbered through my tears.

  Chapter One Hundred Five

  Cholo

  I’d never been confined to a hospital bed before, but then again, my list of nevers had diminished significantly in the last few days.

  While I prepared to tell another part of my tale, detective Watson came through the door.

  I looked at Crip. He nodded his head once and patted me on the shoulder.

  “Thought they had a limit on visitors in these places,” Watson said.

  “They do,” Crip said snidely. “And with you, we’re over the limit. Make your visit quick, cop.”

  “Take it easy, Navarro,” the detective said, his tone flat. “I come in peace.”

  Watson glanced around, grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, and sat down. After opening his notepad, he looked up.

  “As you might suspect, I’ve got to take a statement. I read your admission form, and I’ve seen the doctor’s reports. I need a sworn statement from you.”

  “I’m on a morphine drip,” I said. “But I think I’m ready.”

  He lifted his pen to his mouth and tapped it against his lip. “Is your name Adam Wesley Downey?”

  “It is.”

  “Do you reside at 42031 N. 14th Ave., in Oceanside, California.”

  “I do.”

  “Can you describe to the best of your ability, in detail, the events that transpired which led to your being hospitalized?”

  “I can do my best.”

  He stopped tapping the pen. “Begin.”

  “I was in bed asleep, and something woke me up. By the time I got my eyes adjusted, some fucker was asking me where his money was. I had no idea what he was talking about, and tried to explain myself, but he pistol-whipped me and took me anyway.”

  “Took you?” he asked.

  I nodded. “Kidnapped me. Abducted me. Whatever you want to call it.”

  “Continue.”

  “They took me to a building, duct-taped me to a table, then burned me, pulled my teeth with pliers, and then smashed my toes with a fucking hammer.”

  “Jesus.” He winced. “Over the course of how much time?”

  I looked at Alexandra.

  “Roughly forty-eight hours,” she said.

  He let out a long sigh. “Continue.”

  “Well, he reached a point that he realized I didn’t have his money, and he told the other two to shoot me, and then--”

&
nbsp; “He being whom? He realized you didn’t have his money. Who is he?”

  “Don’t know what his name was, but I called him ‘Tattoo.’ You know, in my mind.”

  “Why did you call him that?”

  “He had a number 18 tattooed on his neck.”

  “Front or back?” he asked.

  “Huh?”

  “On the front or back of his neck?”

  “Front.”

  “Continue.”

  “So. Let’s see. He told them to kill me, and I closed my eyes. Then, I heard some sounds. Like, pop, pop, pop. I opened my eyes, and that’s when I saw him.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Tattoo?”

  “No, a different him. A Hispanic male I didn’t recognize. Someone new. He had a rifle in each hand, and he was shooting at my captors. In the shootout, Tattoo pulled a pistol and shot the guy who I didn’t recognize in his leg. He fell to the floor, fired one last shot, and killed Tattoo. As Tattoo fell, the pistol discharged, shooting the guy in the other leg.”

  “The man you didn’t recognize had two weapons?” he asked.

  “Yep.”

  “One in each hand?”

  “Best that I could tell, yes.”

  He coughed a laugh. “Sounds like a Quentin Tarantino movie.”

  I cocked my head to the side and smiled. “Seemed like one.”

  “What happened next?”

  “Well, I realized the gun was out of his grasp, and somehow I got up. After kicking the weapons into a pile, I stumbled outside the building, and out into the street.”

  Alexandra squeezed my hand.

  Shit.

  “No, wait,” I said. “After I kicked the weapons into a pile, I called 911 and reported the crime. Then, I stumbled out into the street. Then everything went black.”

  “So, during your time in captivity, you had a phone?”

  “No. I used the phone on the table beside Tattoo.”

  He nodded. “When the police arrived, you were gone. How were you transported here?”

  “I came out of my unconscious state when a guy was loading me in the backseat of a car.”

  “Another Hispanic male?”

  “Nope,” I said. “White dude. Executive type. Dressed in a suit and driving a BMW sedan. He brought me here. In fact, he signed the admission form.”