by M Dauphin
Holy fuck.
I pick up the small object and the minute I wrap my hands around it, I want to scream with joy.
A phone! A fucking phone!
Why the FUCK would they leave a phone next to me??
Who the fuck cares right now?
With shaking fingers, I dial Eddie. Not knowing what time of day it is there, not knowing where he is or what he’s doing… Fuck, it’s been killing me.
Not hearing his voice, though… that’s been even worse.
“Hello?” He answers and I almost break down. I want to spill everything to him, I want him to know I’m ok… but I can’t. “Red?” I stop a sob from forcing its way out. That name. I’ve missed him saying that name. A tear slips from my eye before I’m able to make a sound and he screams, “Red?!” Eddie’s voice is a peace I need right now. As soon as I take a breath to talk to him I hear the door open and my heart drops.
Fuck, I can’t let them see I have this phone right now. Whoever it belongs to, I know I’m not supposed to have it.
I drop the phone to my side and listen, praying Eddie can hear this, as Zeke fights for me. His father is adamant that I will be fighting tomorrow, but Zeke… he’s pissed and keeps telling him I need more time. He’s fighting for me, which makes my stomach turn. He needs to hate me. He needs to not care about me. The fact that he wants me to get better means he’s probably itching for more money and I’m a main source for him. If I get better he’s just going to put me back in the ring against people I can’t win over. I can’t do that. I can’t let my body take this many beatings. I have a family I need to get back to.
“She’ll be good as gold in the morning, Z.” Another voice growls. A voice I’ve never heard before “Fuck, you always were a dramatic boy,” he chuckles.
“Dad, she may have internal damage.”
Dad?
“Gwynn!” the man barks.
Fuck!
In a panic, I end the call and shove the phone into the only place I can right now and try not to think about it. I have about four seconds until they round that corner and see me so I have to make quick work of hiding it. Having a phone shoved in these tiny shorts pressing firmly against my clit at this moment, isn’t the most comfortable of feelings; but neither is the thought of being caught with the phone.
I groan and pretend to be just waking up.
“Get up, girl,” the man sneers from above me. I open my eyes to see him glaring down at me, wrinkled, tanned skin, silver hair and the same damn fucking jawline of Zeke.
Dad.
“I can’t,” I groan, attempting to, but failing miserably when pain sears through my side.
“See, she’s talking, she’ll be fine.” The man walks away and I turn my head to see Zeke, watching with an emotion in his eyes I haven’t seen this entire time he’s had me.
Worry.
“The fuck you glaring at?” I blurt, sitting up through the pain.
He narrows his eyes at me and pauses, taking a breath like he’s about to say something before his dad walks back in.
“Now, Zeke,” his dad blurts, nodding at me.
“Get up,” Zeke demands, storming over to me and taking my arm. “Before he really gets mad.” He helps me up, practically yanking my arm out of its socket to get me up. I hiss after the first step but soon adjust to the pain.
That’s what being a fighter has helped me with… I have a huge pain tolerance.
I’m not certain what’s broken on me, I don’t know if anything is collapsed or cracked, and I’m scared to look in the mirror, but I do know I’m not about to be able to step in a ring for a few days.
We make it to the car and I slide in with a groan. Sitting straight up in a vehicle while the driver takes as many bumps as he possibly can makes me want to cry, but I hold it back, channeling it into anger and saving it for later when I destroy the two men in this car right now.
“Take her back to the Hit,” the father says.
The Hit, I’ve learned, is what they call the building I’ve been sleeping in. I’m ok with going back there, because at least it means I’ll be left alone and be able to get this phone out of my hoo-ha.
“She’s going to my place,” Zeke announces to the driver and looks over at me with a grin on his face.
Fuck to the no.
My eyes go wide and I start to shake my head.
“Oh yes, Gwynn. You didn’t think I was kidding today, did you?” He winks at me and I start to shake; whether from fear or pain I’m not certain.
“Please don’t,” I whisper, not even recognizing the pleading tone that just escaped my lips.
A low chuckle comes from the front seat and it’s all I can do not to cry right here.
I can’t let them see me break.
Eddie
I keep replaying the phone call as I wait for Tatum. It’s been an hour since the call dropped. An hour of tracing names and numbers and trying to ping cell towers.
Do you know how big the state of Texas is? Fucking huge. It’s huge, and there are a fuck ton of people using cell phones at the same time here, making it a long process of tracing lines and cell towers.
I ran downstairs to Sarah’s room when the call ended and woke her up. We’ve been sitting here working for an hour. She’s not near as smart as I am on computers, but she picks it up fast. While she searches the database for every connection the Diaz family had and currently has, I’m pinging cell towers like crazy.
“Anything yet?” Tatum asks, entering the room with two cups of coffee in his hands and one tucked between his arm and chest. He hands one to Sarah, then one to me before taking a sip from his.
“Fuel,” my sister sighs, standing to head to the kitchen.
“So?” Tatum pulls up a chair and spins it, sitting backwards in it and leaning down to watch what I’m doing on the screen.
He’s an amazing man, but technology was never, and will never be, his strong suit. He’s better with a weapon or his own two hands once we get the assholes. That’s what he’s best for. Kicking ass. And I’m going to need all the ass-kicking help once these fuckers are in my grasp.
“Nothing yet. Still have three areas I want to focus on, though.” I click through the screens and pause, glancing over at Tatum “You guys remember this family?”
“Fuck yea we do. I told my dad and he remembered it like yesterday. Said the son kind of took over things after we sent Dad to jail, but also said he hasn’t heard anything from them in the last year or two.”
“Yea, it’s like they just disappeared,” I mumble, going back to clicking through the screens. How the fuck does someone make themselves disappear from me? From authorities, sure, but not from me!
This explains why I’ve had such a hard fucking time finding her… whoever is running their ship knows a fuck ton about hiding.
A fuck ton.
My sister walks back into the room shortly after and goes back to work on her laptop on the couch. This office isn’t that big, and what extra space I typically have has been built into more desk space for extra hardware.
“Hey, Ed?” she says not five minutes after getting back to work. “Have you been looking solely in Texas?” She looks up at me from her laptop and takes a sip of her coffee.
“Yea, why?”
“Did you know they have family in Honduras?” She spins the computer and shows me a street-view camera image of mother fucking Zeke Diaz and his fucking father.
“How the fuck did you get this?”
“I’m not as stupid as you think.” She grins, holding out the laptop.
I grab it and study the image in complete and utter disbelief that there’s a possibility they took her out of the country. “Mother fucking… Fuck!”
“Jesus, Eddie, quiet!” Sarah hisses, standing up and closing the door. We all sit in silence, staring at the baby monitor on the screen behind the couch, waiting for Dax to fall back asleep.
“You need soundproof walls, man,” Tatum whispers.
“We h
ave them in the bedroom,” I quip, earning a gagging noise from my sister.
“Gross. Stop, go back to work.” She sits back on the couch.
“For real?” Tatum asks after I’ve turned around and started realigning all my searches with fucking Honduras.
“Yes for fucking real,” I growl. “I’ll let you come over and babysit the kids after I get her home. We have some making up to do.”
“Nice,” he chuckles.
“No, not nice. Eddie, get the hell to work. I’m going to get more coffee.” Sarah stands and stretches before grabbing our two cups off the desk.
“Grab me some too!” Tatum holds his cup out to her and she grumbles something about pretty-boys being entitled, which makes me chuckle.
“I don’t really have the typical affect on your sister, man. It’s so damn different.”
“That’s good. She’s happily married with kids. I’d be worried if she were swooning over the playboy.”
“Hey now, I resent that. I’m married with a family too!”
“Right, but you’re never going to stop making the ladies swoon.”
“Ha! Screw you, man.” He slugs me and leans back in his chair, grabbing his phone and most likely texting Molly.
Fuck, my eyes are so goddamned tired. Eventually I’m going to need to make a stopping point and take a break just so I can keep my brain focused, but I’m not there yet. We finally have something; I need to see this to the end.
After finally making sure all the coordinates are corrected in the computer, I hit enter and lean back in the chair, watching the computer do it’s magic.
“What’s going to happen if I can’t find her, Tatum?” Jesus, the words are so hard to say.
“You don’t give up, man.”
“Right… and I never will… but at what point do I accept defeat and tell the kids they won’t ever see their mom again? What happens if we find out where she is and it’s a dead end? What if she’s already dead?”
“Good lord, man, get the fuck out of your head. She’s not dead; she’s a fighter. You’re going to bring her home, Eddie. Promise.”
“You shouldn’t promise things like that, Tatum,” I mumble, watching the numbers on the screen run their course.
“I know, Eddie—”
“Fuck yes!” I yell as I watch the screen change. Finally! The number stops and a bright red dot starts flashing on the screen. I hit enter to start to zoom in, standing at my desk with my hands on my head as the dot blinks faster and faster, pinpointing the phone to a more exact location.
“Holy shit.” As it zooms in on the location my stomach drops. “No.”
I’m staring at the screen at the city of San Pedro Sula, Honduras which was most recently named the most dangerous city in the world, home to drug lords, human trafficking hubs, and all kinds of illegal activity. Not to mention the death toll there rises by the hundreds every month. “Fuck no,” I growl, staring at the little red light on the black and white screen.
I work at pulling up the exact coordinates on a separate map and soon I hear Tatum on the phone.
“Dad. Get the jet ready. We found her.” I spin and watch him, his eyes lock on mine and I see the pity. Fucking pity! “She’s in Honduras, Dad.” Tatum’s jaw twitches and he nods, sighing before he hangs up the phone.
“Wheels up in an hour, Eddie.”
I nod and stare at the screen, a knot growing in my stomach. The news report on that part of the world wasn’t pretty and the whole time my girl’s been in the middle of it.
Shit.
We make arrangements for Sarah and John, along with their kids, to stay with my kids while I go find and bring home my Red. My sister’s eyes tear up when we tell her, but she stays strong for me and for that I’m thankful. I can’t do emotions right now. I’ve never been good at them, but someone fucked with my Red and if I’m going to have any emotions right now they need to be pure rage so I can rip these men to shreds.
Though I used to have an overnight bag always packed for last-minute trips like this, I haven’t had one for a while now. Things have been relatively calm around here.
It should have been a sign that things weren’t going to stay that way. It never stays simple. I throw some necessities into a bag along with some shit for Red when I find her and we’re out the door in twenty minutes.
Planes always freak me out. I’m not a good flier, even though I’ve never said anything to Red about it. When we flew to Vegas I was just excited to be bringing a hot piece of ass to fuck in Vegas; I didn’t have time to think about all the bad shit that could happen when flying.
Now, here I sit; in the Savage jet, flying to a privately-owned airport in Honduras.
“All set for takeoff,” the cabin attendant announces.
We have just less than three hours until we land. I lay my head back and try to think of something other than the negative. I feel like I’ve done nothing but whine and fucking bitch this whole time, all because things weren’t going my way and I wasn’t doing a good job finding her, but now that I know where she is I can’t help but think about what she’s going through and feel like a complete tool for only being whiny that I wasn’t smart enough to find her.
Fuck.
“You ok, man?” Tatum asks from across the small table we’re sitting at.
“What do you think?”
He nods and takes the clue that I don’t feel like talking.
No, I feel like thinking of better times. Back when all I had to worry about was video games and my family.
***
"I fucking love you, baby,” I growl, admiring her new tattoo on her shoulder. The matching butterfly tattoo to my new addition on my hip. Fuck me this woman will be the end of me. There are only a few things that make me go weak in the knees, and new ink on her beautiful skin is one of them.
Turning, she smiles up at me and pushes her body to mine, grinning when she rubs against my hard-on for her.
"I'm glad," she whispers. She locks eyes with me and runs her hands over my recently shaved head. Her lips press against mine while her nails trail down my neck, sending waves of pleasure straight to my dick.
"Jesus, Red." I growl and lift her easily, letting her wrap her legs around my waist.
She’s grinding on me, but I’m not one to complain. I’m painfully hard at the moment but having her wriggle against me is never something I’ll fucking complain about.
"I thought you were busy," she laughs, looking towards the TV where the 'pause' screen’s waiting on my new game, all while grinding on me.
"That shit can wait. This is way more fucking important,” I growl, locking my lips to hers.
I carry her back to the bedroom where it takes us no time at all to strip the layers of clothes between us. Her eyes locked on mine, I’m hovering over her and her fingers instinctively go to the tattoo on my pelvis.
“I like this. A lot,” she whispers.
“I know. You fucking jumped off a roof for it.” I smirk and she grins.
"I love you, Eddie," she says tracing the lines of the tattoo.
"I love you too, Red." My fingertips find her chin and lift her gaze to mine. "Ropes tonight?" A smirk appears on her lips and I feel the blood pumping to my dick. That fucking smirk gets me every time.
“Please," she whispers, biting her lip.
I groan and press my lips to hers for a long, drawn out kiss before leaving her alone on the bed to grab what I need from the closet. Walking across the room holding the purple triple-braided silk rope I got her last month as a 'just because' gift. Braided into the rope is a thick strand with knots tied into it every few inches, adding to the pressure points it hits.
"I particularly like this one," I whisper as she lifts her hips and I start wrapping it around her. The purple a brilliant contrast to her pale skin. The pressure denting softly into her supple skin.
Fuck she’s beautiful.
Stretching a piece up to the headboard, I hook it to a discreet hook that was installed once w
e moved in, enabling me to tie her without worrying about hurting the furniture at all. Sometimes things can get a little rough between us. I'd hate to have to explain why there's rope burn marks on our furniture.
"Why's that?" She pants as I slide the rope over her nipple, watching the goosebumps rise as each small knot of the rope flicks over her pert nipple. When I finish with that loop, I back away and watch her squirm. Fuck that’s hot.
"Ah, baby," I lean in and whisper in her ear, then nip gently. "This rope makes you squirm the most out of all of them, and that's so fucking sexy." I back away a bit and grin at her, eyes locked on mine as I trace the rope across her nipples again.
"Shit," she sighs, closing her eyes and arching her back.
I chuckle and lift her leg, crossing the rope over her stomach and around her thigh, pulling it tight enough to put the smallest amount of pressure where I need it most. Where she needs it most.
It's not enough, though. It’s never enough, but it’s just enough to drive her crazy.
When I repeat it on the other leg, she’s so fucking turned on her pussy is swollen and wet; just like I fucking love it. My hands twist and tie until the last of the rope has been used and her arms and legs are officially useless. She couldn't move them if she tried, which is a huge fucking turn-on.
"Goddamnit," I growl as I back away and study my work. "Fuck, Red." I start stroking myself and I see the wetness between her legs start to drip. Jesus Christ. All it takes is one fucking rope to turn her into a puddle at my fucking feet.
"How'd I get so goddamned lucky?"
"I could say the same thing, baby." She moans shifting against the rope to get the friction she needs most. I chuckle and she opens her eyes to me watching her with amusement on my face.
"What? It's not fair you get to touch yourself but I'm left here all alone. And cold. And... empty.
And that's all it takes.
In one stride, I’m between her legs, my favorite fucking place, and sucking on her clit so fucking hard.
"JESUS, EDDIE!" she screams.
"Quiet the fuck down, Red," I growl, landing a slap on her ass. "You'll wake Angel, then all this fun will have been for nothing."