by K. L. Savage
“Because I noticed the man who took me. I haven’t seen him in a long time, and I have no idea what he’s doing here, but it’s him. I don’t doubt it.”
“Who?”
“At the time he was just a prospect for the MC. He helped dispose of…”
“Logan’s dad’s body? Yeah, he told me.” I hit my head against the wall, and a cold breeze comes through the cracks in the cement foundation, and I shiver.
“Well, it’s him and my damn dead’s husband stepbrother. I’m not too sure what the hell they want with Logan, but it’s some serious shit. I’m worried for my boy. He’s strong, but he has carried revenge in his heart for an awfully long time. If he never finds us, he will blame himself.”
“He’ll find us. My dad will find us. He’s the—” A door opens in the distance, and the clink of metal reverberates around us as voices get closer. “That’s him. That’s—” I feel hope swell in my chest when I hear my dad’s voice. “Dad! Dad! Help us! We’re over here,” I shout with relieved tears pouring down my face.
“Your dad is the sheriff?”
“Yeah.” I nod enthusiastically, knowing we are about to get out of here.
“Juliette, I hate to tell you this—” Whitney is interrupted when my dad stands in front of the jail cell with another guy who has a scar down the left side of his face. He’s staring at me with hunger as he licks his lips and grabs his crotch.
My dad wraps his hands around the bars and leans in, allowing the hallway light to shine on his face. It’s the same dark look he gave me when I moved out. “Dad? What’s going on? Let us out.” I tug on the cuffs, but it’s no use. They aren’t going anywhere. I’m sitting on an old stained cot on one side of the room, and Whitney is on the other cot.
Dad groans in frustration. “Stop calling me that. God, I’ve waited so long to say that. Raising your ass was fucking exhausting.”
I almost don’t understand the words coming from his mouth. They hurt too much. “What are you talking about?”
“You. You were just some crack baby that a whore I fucked had. I wanted nothing to do with you, but then she came up with an amazing idea. We would raise you and at the right age, sell you.”
My mouth drops open, and I barely get to the edge of the bed before I puke. “No!” I shake my head with denial, and Whitney pulls against her cuffs to try to get to me, staring at me with pity.
“Leave her alone,” Whitney barks, and my dad gives her a look that could kill.
“She deserves the truth. Listen, pumpkin,” he laughs at the nickname he has called me for the last twenty-five years. “You were never even supposed to be born. I promised a guy that he could have you for the right price on the stipulation that you had to remain a virgin, but you didn’t fucking do that. You had to go and be a damn whore, pumpkin. What did I tell you about doing that? What did I tell you about whores?”
I turn my face into the wall and cry, my heart shattering until I feel like I can’t breathe or think. My entire life was a lie just to prepare me for my dad to get a big payday.
“That fucking biker ruined everything, and that’s when I knew I had to make my move. And you know what’s even sweeter, pumpkin? That bastard’s father was my stepbrother. Logan deserves this for driving a screwdriver through my brother’s head.” The man who used to be my father grabs a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and puts a long white smoke between his lips. “It’s poetic, kind of, right? That we have the bitch who wasn’t a good wife, the bastard son who loves my daughter, but he isn’t allowed to.”
“What do you want?” I ask, not really caring what he has to say. It doesn’t matter.
“What do I want? I want to fucking ruin Logan’s life like he ruined mine. Luckily, Ziggy here was willing to give me all the information I needed to set Logan up. We all go way back, ya see, so I promised him the payday once we sold you, and then he could do the honors of killing Logan. To think I almost did this right before Logan happened, but then I started to think smart.” He taps the side of his head. “I can’t believe how good this worked out. It’s like it was meant to be or something.”
“Why wait until now?” I ask him, tasting tears on my lips as I cry.
“I wanted to wait until I had the means to do what I needed to do. I had a few people lined up to set Logan up for murder along with this little operation we have going on here. Since you fucked him, I can’t sell you. That’s what happens when I wait too long, but I can make money off you. We have a few fights tonight, pumpkin, and the winners will get to fuck you. Hell the losers can too as long as they pay. I really don’t give a fuck.”
“I want to go first,” the guy next to the man who shaped my future to be a nightmare growls.
“Then fight,” the sheriff says, slapping his friend in the chest.
“Don’t do this,” I beg. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”
“It does, though, because I’m tired of you. I’m tired of the Ruthless Kings thinking they can get away with whatever they want. I’m tired of my stepbrother’s killer walking around as if he’s allowed to be. It took a long time to become Sheriff, but now I can be untouchable. I can get away with anything I want, and the first thing on my list is Logan.”
“Doesn’t make sense.” Whitney rolls her head back and forth, trying to understand the crazy man’s logic. “If you hated him so much, why not just take him out and do whatever you wanted with Juliette?”
“Because,” he says darkly, lowering his voice, and the evil trembles wrap around me. I can hear the smile in his voice as he continues. He blows out a puff of smoke first, “Because revenge is sweeter when the execution plan is detailed. It was sheer dumb luck that Juliette and Logan found each other. Ah, love, it’s a stupid fucking thing, isn’t it? Well, lay back, ladies. Get comfortable.”
“All those times,” I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut when I think about all the birthday parties, presents, kisses on the forehead. All of the moments he showed me love, it was fake. “All the times we spent together; you really didn’t care about me. You’re okay with your daughter getting used for your own gain? What kind of Sheriff does that make you? What kind of father?” I spit, yanking with all my might against the cuffs in hopes I can launch myself at his disgusting, lying face.
“Pumpkin, I only ever cared to be one of those things.” He flicks the cigarette at me, and it’s still hot, glowing red at the end. It hits against my stomach, burning a hole in my shirt until it singes my skin. I cry out and roll out of the way, then kick it off the bed until it falls into a puddle on the floor, extinguishing instantly. “Come on, Zig. Money is waiting.” My dad—not my captor—turns around with an evil twist to his face, a face only the devil can love, and walks away.
His friend turns to me and leans his head between the bars. “I’ll be seeing you later, Juliette.” His laughter is menacing, a true villain wanting to ruin the fairy tale I have planned for my life. Their footsteps get farther away until the door slams shut, locking us inside what damnation must look like.
“Logan will come for us,” Whitney says. “I know he will. I’m sorry about your father. That entire family was terrible when I was married to Logan’s father. I’m thankful Logan killed him, or I would have been used for the rest of my life. I never thought that day would come back and haunt me with a vengeance. The prospect then, Ziggy, if I remember correctly, was with Brass that night. Ziggy was a backstabber then, and the club kicked him out. It makes sense that his stepbrother found out what really happened. I bet Zig told Derek about his brother’s death out of retaliation for the club kicking him out. You were just a little girl at the time…” Realization dawns on her face. “oh my god.” Whitney closes her eyes, and a tear rolls down her cheek. “I remember you. I met you once when you were just a little girl. That bastard came over, and Logan watched you when… It doesn’t matter. But you guys have been a part of each other’s lives a lot longer than you think.”
“We … aren’t related, are we?”
She snorts. “No, your dad is just my ex’s stepbrother.”
“Oh, good. That’s good. That would have been awkward if I ever saw him again.” If I ever see him again.
“You’ll see him. We will get out of this.”
“How do you know?” I ask, losing hope with every word I have to speak.
“Because I’ve seen Logan protect the people he loves. He will go to every extreme to protect the people he loves.”
Will it be too late, though? Will we get used up and tossed aside with our lips stitched shut? Will Logan will be pinned for murder?
I only want to see Logan’s face again and tell him I don’t care that he killed his dad.
And I don’t care that he has to kill mine.
Have fucking at it. Just let me be in his arms again.
19
TOOL
I’ve been to her dad’s house, and there’s nothing there that tells me where he is. He isn’t at the police station. No one has seen him since yesterday. I’m on the verge of completely losing it. I don’t care if the person is innocent or not. If they get in my way, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.
I’ll kill them along with everyone else who took my little sparrow. I’ll save her and make sure her wings are never clipped again. Juliette will only ever know freedom when I have her again.
Right now, I’m in the basement, interrogating a gang member who is very familiar with that house I saw the sheriff at a few nights ago. “Tell me what I want to know,” I say, flexing my fingers to release the ache. I’ve punched for a few hours and have maintained a tight grip around my screwdriver.
“I ain’t telling you shit.” The guy wheezes but gives me a cocky smile that I want to annihilate from his face.
I’ve been going at him for about an hour, but he won’t say shit about that house. I rip my screwdriver from his thigh and plunge it in his gut next, twisting and turning so the metal wraps around all of his organs. He screams until he nearly passes out, and that’s when I pull out the weapon. He tries to take a deep breath. “Is that so? Alright, then. Tongue? Do your worst,” I tell my MC brother, and he steps from the shadows with a glint of excitement in his eyes.
“Wait, what’s he do? Who is that?”
“He’s going to make sure you never speak again.” I wipe my hands on a rag and notice how ruined and fucked up my knuckles are. His face is worse; that much I can say. His eyes are swollen, cheeks are busted, and his lip is bleeding. Even Knives got in a few hits with his Ninja Star, and the guy still won’t talk.
“What’s that mean?” The guy shakes, his naked body trembling when Tongue takes a step closer. I have to say, I’d be freaking the fuck out too if Tongue walked close to me with a knife, planning to slice out my own tongue.
Tongue grips the guy’s chin, tilts his head back, and brings his face down until Tongue is almost kissing him, turning his head left and right. It’s almost like he’s debating on turning this into something dirtier. He bumps the guy’s nose and grins, then brings his mouth to his ear. “I’m going to slice your tongue out and feed it to the coyotes,” Tongue says in his typical slow drawl. The tip of the knife hits under the guy’s chin, and Tongue runs the sharp edge down his chest. He cuts a shallow wound on the man’s skin that goes from his chin to the middle of his chest. “And if you don’t drown from swallowing your own blood, my friend Bullseye is going to play darts with your heart. And then my Prez is going to reach in”— Tongue licks his lips as he swirls the knife over the guy’s nipples—“and take your beating heart from your chest.”
The smell of piss fills the air, and our captive shakes his head. “I’ll tell you. Fuck, I’ll tell you what I know. I swear to god, don’t cut my tongue out.”
“But I want to,” Tongue pouts.
“Tongue,” I say his name with an extra bite, telling him to back away. Tongue sighs, then takes a step back.
“I never get to have any fun.” And like a toddler, he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Talk,” I say.
“The house is where a lot of the fights happen. People off the street looking for an extra buck or high go there. Tonight, there’s a special prize for the winners. They have girls there willing to fuck, but I swear to god that’s all I know. I swear.” The man pisses again, and the drain gurgles as it sucks in the dehydrated body fluid.
That’s pretty good information. “Why didn’t you tell us this earlier?”
“Because my crew goes there all the time. I can’t snitch on my crew, man.” Spit gathers on the man’s chin and drips down on the metal floor. His spit is tinted red with blood, and seeing him beaten and broken has power surging through my veins, strengthening me for what’s about to come.
“Tongue, finish him off,” I give the order, and Tongue gives me the biggest smile as he pushes off the wall with his boot.
“What do you mean? I—I told you. I told you what you wanted to know. No, man. Don’t. Please. Oh, god,” the man cries, snot dripping from down from his nose to his lips and chin. It’s disgusting.
Tongue wraps a hand around the man’s jaw, bringing the knife to his lips and play bites the air, causing the man to jump. I throw the rag on the floor and right as I leave, Tongue says to our captive, “God doesn’t live here.”
Painful, soul-wrenching screams resound in the devil’s playroom, followed by Tongue’s wicked, victorious laughter. Blood gurgles as the man chokes and tries to live.
“Someone stich his lips up and deliver his body to the house. I want a message being sent.”
“Can I stitch his mouth together with his own tongue?”
“I don’t give a fuck how you do it; just do it,” I sneer and kick the door open to find Doc standing between the bed Moretti lays in and the young deputy who is barely hanging on. Just a fucking kid. His lips are swollen, blood red dots decorate his top and bottom lips, and his eyes are shut from being so swollen. Doc had to drain the sides of his face from all the blood gathering, and it looks like he might have to do it again.
Sarah is between the beds, rocking in a chair and reading a Harry Potter book aloud. She thinks it helps them heal when they can hear a friendly voice. She even does different voices for all the characters. Reaper always stares at her with love in his eyes as she reads, but I know who she really wants to do this for. A baby. Her baby, but it might not happen, and that’s why she’s reading to the guys who are hanging on to life.
The young deputy, crybaby, as we call him now, is also in a coma, medically-induced, but Doc thought it was best considering all of his injuries.
“Swish and flick,” Sarah reads in a higher pitched voice that’s not her own. She sees me and marks the book, closing it softly as if she’s afraid to wake either men beside her. “Anything?”
I nod and place my hand on the rail that leads up the stairs. “Yeah, I’m going to go tell Reaper now. He has a clubhouse full of bikers who want an update.”
“You’ll find her, Tool. You deserve good things, no matter what you think.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say quietly.
“I’ve heard you, having nightmares, you know; screaming at the top of your lungs. It always sounds like you’re fighting someone. That person isn’t around anymore, Tool.”
My face burns with shame. I had no idea people heard me.
Sarah opens the book again to start reading, but Reaper bellows from the basement door. “Get up here. Now. Get Tongue and Bullseye too,” he shouts before slamming the door shut.
“I’ll get them. You go ahead,” Sarah says, laying the book on the nightstand and rocks forward to stand.
“Thanks,” I reply, needing to get the hell away from her before she tells me any more secrets. As I climb up the steps, I think about how fucking tired I am of living my life in a void, and how Juliette is the only one who’s been able to pull me from its darkness.
I open the door, but I don’t bother going to the main room because it isn’t big enough to ho
ld a hundred plus bikers. The auditorium is a huge basketball court, and Reaper had a pool installed too for Sarah because she loves to swim. I pass through the kitchen and dining room and open the door to another hallway. It’s nothing special. The hallway itself is pretty plain and still smells of fresh paint.
The plain industrial doors that one finds in a school comes to view, and I push the door open to see a wave of black cuts on the bleachers. A lot of the chapters are staying here, wanting to camp out to be close to base while most of them are staying in a hotel on the strip. I wish my club was done being renovated and all this shit wasn’t going on, then we would be having a good time. My girl can be the singer, the main attraction with a voice like hers, and I’ll be the lucky sonofabitch who doesn’t deserve her but gets to take her home every night.
I rub the ache in my chest, and not the one that Reaper made, but the one that missing someone makes. It’s that hollow, helpless feeling, the one that makes the body feel heavy. I’m back in that damn void, and I’m afraid if I don’t find Juliette soon, no one will be able to pull me out.
I’ll need to inflict pain on people, and I don’t want that for myself, but it’s the only way to alleviate the edge and anger inside me .
“Tool.” Reaper gets off the bottom bleacher and meets me halfway. “We have someone who really wants to help.”
“Reaper, listen, Caster and that entire New Orleans chapter are loyal to the fucking bone, but they fucking creep me out. I can’t be next to Caster. Don’t make me work with him.”
“You scared?”
“Of shit I don’t understand. Like fucking voodoo witchcraft, psychic reading bullshit? Yeah, Reap. That freaks me the fuck out, and I’m afraid I’ll kill Caster with how edgy I feel.”
Reaper nods and puts his hand on my shoulder. “That’s not who wants to work with us.” Reaper steps to the side, and damn if the kid doesn’t look grown.