by BT Urruela
Robbie had chosen radio duty last-minute, staying back with some of the less experienced members, something Dimitri wasn’t told. The dilapidated safe house where Annalise was being held acted as a tactical operations center for the meet-up with Senator Hale. They had a generator running radio communication with every man, and live video feed from a drone circling the meet site. Of course, Robbie wasn’t interested in the radios, nor the mission at hand. He had other devious things pulling at his attention—a beautiful girl in a cage down the stairs.
When Hale drove to meet the bikers, he had cursed himself over the predicament, for ever getting involved with the likes of a motorcycle club. He had wanted to get the bastards locked up for good, but knew that along with their downfall would come his own. He had worked with them for many years, asked of them terrible things. He knew the dirt they held and wouldn’t risk ruining his own reputation over them. It’s why he had shuttered his wife from the public for the most part, and his daughter completely. It was the real reason Annalise and her mother had stayed behind in St. Louis. His reputation meant everything to him. It was the only thing.
Hale had grown to appreciate the dancing once the notoriety finally came, but things weren’t always so. Dancing was supposed to be just a hobby. A way for his daughter to get some of her energy out, and to get her out of his hair. The senator hadn’t paid all that money for private school and tutors so she’d turn around and throw it all away once college came around. That fight had been their biggest. He wanted her to attend an Ivy League. She just wanted to dance. And the beatings changed nothing.
He wanted to strangle her then. It wasn’t the first time the thought came, but it was the most consuming. He felt betrayed by her complete disregard. He wanted her to pay, just as he wanted her mother to. They both had disrespected him and disregarded him and soaked up every bit of the hard work he put in, without putting anything in themselves.
Ronald had thought about letting the club kill Annalise. Of course, he hadn’t told his wife as much. She was, if he were being completely honest with himself, the only reason he was seeing the whole thing through … well, that, and all the dirt those bastards had on him.
He’d only told his best friend, millionaire entrepreneur Thomas Kuch, about the situation and his meet-up with the club members. Only Kuch had the ability to get the money they were sure to ask for, and to do so undetected. Thomas had told Hale to meet with the Sinners, and to do as he was told for the time being while he figured some things out.
Ronald, for the first time in his life, was truly scared. Not for his daughter’s predicament, but the possibility of his career being brought down to its knees—twenty-five years of public service, gone in the blink of an eye.
He wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t. He would do whatever it took to keep his reputation clean.
As instructed on their last phone call, Ronald parked his car a couple blocks from the abandoned gas station and walked the remainder of the way, positioning himself behind it, and out of sight from the road.
The two of them waiting, dismounted their Harleys, removed their helmets, and approached him.
“How ya doin’, Ronald,” Preach said, tipping his imaginary cap. “Beautiful morning, ain’t it?”
“Can you tell me what exactly I’m doing out here?” Ronald Hale crossed his arms, his frown deepening. “Out in the middle of God knows where, for what?”
“Well now, Senator Hale, I need you first to understand you were trailed all the way here, we have very bad men with very big weapons just waitin’ for my word.” Preach’s gaze shifted to the sky and he searched for a moment, before he located a drone. Hale searched too, saw the drone and rolled his eyes.
“If you’ll look-see, we have all our bases covered,” Preach continued. “If you’re plannin’ any funny business, be well aware, we are both prepared and heavily armed, and we are ready to blow you to hell. We don’t wanna see that happen here today, but I need you to know, for your own sake … We have record of a good deal of terrible things on you, and you know that. We’re already prepared to send every bit of communication between you and us to the big news stations, our names redacted, of course. How do you think those headlines would read, Senator?”
Hale shuddered, gritted his teeth. “Okay, I get it,” he said, waving Preach off. “For Christ’s sake, save your breath. I’m not planning anything. Just tell me what the fuck I’m doing out here.”
“You will deliver duffel bags filled with one million dollars in unmarked bills to a destination you will receive exactly twenty-four hours from now, to the phone you’re about to be given.” Preach glanced back toward Dimitri, who had the phone already held out for him. “Thank you,” he said with a smile, taking it from Dimitri and handing it over to Ronald.
Hale let out a heavy sigh as he took the phone, scrutinized it, and then stuffed it in his pocket.
“What’s with all the games?” he asked.
“Not games. Precautionary measures. Don’t underestimate our abilities or our reach. Not at any point in time, or you, and whoever is involved, will be sadly mistaken.”
“Is that so?” Hale asked, his arms crossing yet again and his chest puffing out.
Dimitri stepped forward and put a hand up to keep Preach from talking. “It is absolutely so, you spineless fuck,” he growled, staring at him intently, hungrily. “We will kill anyone you bring, and leave you alive, just so we can make your death the most excruciating thing you can imagine,” he said, gritting his teeth.
Hale eyed him, his expression unchanged, still arrogant, but he knew what the man in front of him was capable of, knew better than to push his luck.
“No need for threats, gentlemen,” he said, letting out an annoyed huff. He smacked his lips. “Now, I’m curious about something …”
He let his words linger as he tapped a pointer against his chin smugly, his eyes on the sky before he looked back down at them. “How in the fuck is a senator supposed to get a million in unmarked bills without someone noticing? Huh? Thought that one through?”
“You answered it yourself,” Preach said with a shrug. “You’re a senator, therefore, you have the means to do whatever the fuck it is you please. I know that. And you know that.”
Ronald took a step forward, his pointer aimed at Preach. “You don’t touch a hair on my daughter’s head, you hear me?”
Preach smirked and crossed his arms. “As long as you do as we ask, and you don’t try anything funny, she will return home, unharmed and happy. Let’s just make sure we understand each other completely here, Ronnie. I don’t wanna hurt this girl, not one fuckin’ bit.” He took a step forward himself. “So don’t force my hand.”
Hale nodded. “Nothing funny on your end either, motherfucker,” he hissed, and then he stormed off toward his car.
Once Hale was gone, Preach checked in with each unit on the radio to tell them to link back up at the safe house, and that’s when Dimitri realized something was off.
“Am I wrong here, or were Pyro and Dalton supposed to be back at the safe house, manning radios?” Dimitri asked.
Preach let go of the button on his mic pack and looked toward Dimitri. “They were supposed to be, but Robbie and Greyson grabbed it instead.”
“What the fuck, Preach!” Dimitri yelled, and he ran to his bike and snatched his helmet from the seat.
“What?” Preach looked around, confused.
“Don’t be fucking daft, Preach,” Dimitri growled, straddling his Harley and starting her up. He sped away before Preach could even reach his own bike or speak another word.
He had a hard time keeping up, as Dimitri sped like a bat out of hell. Preach hadn’t thought anything of it when he was told of the change earlier that morning, but he was overwhelmed by the mission at hand, and hadn’t been thinking straight. He knew well by the time he fought to keep up why Dimitri was so upset, and he, too, worried about the girl left in the cage, with Robbie only a set of stairs away.
Thirteen
<
br /> The room was cold and dark the moment he left. The click of the door echoed off the concrete walls and Annalise was alone for the first time in her ordeal. A shiver went over her as she studied her surroundings. A light bulb flickered in the center of the room, illuminating exposed joists of the floor above. Her basement prison offered no clues to the outside world. The pungent odor of ammonia drew her attention across the concrete floor to a large central drain. She was definitely not the first occupant of these illustrious accommodations. How many people had he tortured or, dare she imagine, killed down here? Were the men upstairs as bad as he made them out to be? Could she really believe him?
Taking her own life had seemed like the best way out. She had no desire to go back to the way things had been, but this fresh hell brought fear of the unknown. As much as Annalise hated it, the devil she knew was at least predictable. She knew nothing of this group or what they may be capable of. The mat on which she found herself was frayed and stiff. She wondered about the last occupant and what they had done to deserve such a fate. She imagined her father or mother sitting here and how that would have turned out. Her father would have sold everyone he knew right down the river. Her captor was right, they would have killed her mother within the day.
Just outside the bars lay a neatly folded pile of clothes, that the debt collector had offered her just before he left. Carefully, she pulled them through the bars, thankful for something other than the thin stained robe to put on. He must have grabbed the warmups from her dressing room. A small pair of joggers, panties, and a gray t-shirt. It was better than that robe. Quickly, she let it fall and put on the clean clothes. She couldn’t explain why the small gesture elicited so many emotions or why the tiny semblance of familiarity made her long so much for a home she once hated.
As she collapsed back on the cot, her body ached all over and exhaustion plagued her consciousness. Still, Annalise fought to stay awake. Fear was a powerful motivator. She could hear heavy footsteps on the floor above her. Who was up there? If the debt collector had gone to meet her father, then who was that? Briefly, she imagined she was on some kind of Punk’d show and her family could see her on a closed-circuit TV. Maybe her suicide attempt had been discovered and this was some sort of extreme therapy. Tears stung Annalise’s eyes as she knew those were just pathetic fantasies.
The reality of the fact she was sitting in a heavy metal cage on a concrete floor returned, weighing on her like a tidal wave on an unsuspecting shore, crushing the air out of her lungs. She desperately wanted to scream but found no breath, as if she had plunged into the depths. Alone in this prison, she began gasping for air. Panic set in and a fresh wave of nausea wracked her body. Annalise’s heart pounded furiously as her tiny body began to heave. Suddenly, the sobs came without warning, loud and full-bodied. She was unable and unwilling to control them. All her life, she had remained calm, kept everything hidden, and where had it gotten her. All this time, walking the line and now she lay curled on the cold, hard floor, paying for someone else’s crimes.
The stairs groaned as the leaded footsteps descended toward her. Annalise cupped grimy hands over her mouth in an effort to contain the sorrowful outbursts that betrayed her. She fought to hold her breath as the door creaked open, revealing a mountain of man who eyed her like a lion about to devour his prey.
Annalise swallowed hard and squared her shoulders. She forced herself to sit up straight, though her body continued to shake all over. The drugs leaving her body had not been kind. He didn’t say a word, just laughed at her pathetic display. After a few moments of admiring his prize, he entered the room.
Unlike the debt collector, this man wore no mask, only black sunglasses. His dark, burly beard stuck out of the sides of his red bandana, but she could still see the edges of the smug smile splayed across his lips. He was enjoying every minute of this and had no desire to hide it.
Instinctively, Annalise shrunk back, away from the edge of the cage. For the first time since waking up, she was thankful for the bars that separated them. He laughed harder now, his lips snarling, getting off on her fear. He grabbed a stool and drug it slowly across the floor, emitting an ear-splitting screech as the metal legs abraded the concrete. Annalise winced and pulled her arms tightly around her shoulders, rocking ever so slightly.
Whatever comfort she felt with the debt collector, even unconsciously, was gone, and she was suddenly vulnerable and exposed before this man. There was no trace of kindness or compassion in his demeanor. His expressions and movements were almost animalistic. Annalise fleetingly imagined what Jeffrey Dahmer’s victims must have seen in their final moments but pushed the thoughts out of her head. Her heart thumped loudly in her ears and she struggled to maintain a calm exterior.
“Welcome to your fuckin’ nightmare, darlin’,” he growled.
Annalise sat, wide-eyed and unsure of how to answer. One wrong move and God only knew what he would do. She believed the debt collector when he said he didn’t want to hurt her, but this man had no such morals. He laughed again and it echoed off the walls.
“You don’t want to talk to me? Daddy’s little princess too good for a biker? That it, baby? You too good for me?” He set the stool just inches from the bars and he took a slow seat, his eyes locked on her.
Annalise sat frozen like a deer caught in the headlights of the semi-truck barreling down on it. There was no way out. Nowhere to run.
She held her breath and watched him. No personal tragedy or hell could have prepared her for what he had in store. Annalise just shook her head no. “Please.” The word barely escaped her lips and instantly, she knew it was the wrong answer.
A demonic grin formed as he drank in the power of her plea and submission. “I’ve been watching you for a long time, princess. Do you have any idea how much trouble I’ve gone through to get you here? How many times I’ve pictured exactly what I’m going to do to you?” He scooted the stool closer to the cage and grabbed a hold of the metal bars with both hands. The sudden movement caused Annalise to jump back, sucking in a sharp breath. Her fear was palpable, and he seemed to be eating up every drop.
Annalise glanced toward the door, silently hoping, praying, the debt collector would return. Someone … anyone, to stop him.
“He’s long gone, princess. No one is coming to save you now.” His glare was evil and made her think of the serial killer documentaries her mom always binge-watched, the same look of malevolent glee, of a man who had done awful things.
“I … I spoke to my father like you asked,” Annalise blurted. “He said he would do whatever you wanted. He’s meeting the debt collector now. He will give you the money.”
“You think I don’t know that? That’s why I’m here. Don’t you worry, darlin’, we’ll get our money. It’s the pound of flesh I care about.” He leaned in closer, his face tight against the bars, and lowered his voice to a deep hungry baritone. “You know where I can get my hands on a pound of sweet flesh, princess?” He sat back, laughing at his own mockery. “Did you really think you would make it out of here unscathed. No, no, no. I’ve been waiting far too long to let you slip through my fingers now.”
“If you hurt me, you won’t get anything,” Annalise offered feebly, trying to reason with him. “I’m sure with the amount of money he is paying, you can afford a ton of flesh.”
“Smartass. I like it.” He cackled, the spittle flying from his lips repulsing her, bringing her back further against the cage. “I don’t want fucking whores when I can have my very own fucking princess. You’re out of the ivory tower now, darlin’, and all mine.” He stood tall and walked around to the edge of the cage, then tugged at the door. The smile on his face faded immediately when it didn’t budge. He gave it a hard jerk and then another. Nothing.
He eyed a padlock on the hatch handle, keeping it from moving, and he thought for a moment, a hand to his chin. “Now where’s that fucking key.” He stomped around the dim space, overturning boxes and searching in vain around the cage for any sign of th
e key. He returned to the bars and hit them violently with his fists, then gave them a swift kick and the steel bars rattled.
Annalise pinched her lips together to hide a grin. He looked like the big bad wolf, huffing and puffing as sweat ran down his forehead and dripped off his nose. “Well engineered,” she observed dryly, and knew by the scowl on his face she would pay for it.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he shot. “I will get through these bars. I promise you that.” He picked up the stool, hurling it at the bars. It bounced off of them and back toward him, smacking against his shins before clattering to the ground. “Fuck,” he growled, bending over and working his hands against his legs.
Annalise stayed low and in the center of her safe prison, just out of arm’s reach. She didn’t know where the keys were, but she had a good guess. She couldn’t imagine why the debt collector would help her if he did, but she was thankful. Any ally she could get at the moment was greatly appreciated.
The large man stared down at her, his muscles flexing, his eyebrows twitching. Then, as if a light bulb came on in his devious mind, the wicked smile spread wide once more. “You feeling safe in your little cage?” He smirked and pulled out his gun. Slowly, without saying anything, he began to clink it back and forth against the bars, watching the color fade from her face.
Fresh fear gripped her body. The bars may keep him out, but they certainly wouldn’t stop a bullet. She had no idea just how crazy he could be, but judging by the look on his face, long-term consequences were of no concern to him at the moment. “If you kill me …” she started, but he didn’t let her finish.