King's Ransom: South Side Sinners MC

by BT Urruela

  “‘A lot?’” He chuckled, nodded. “Yeah, something like that. And no, I rarely speak with the people who are down here. I guess I’ve just been a little concerned about this particular captive. Wanted to make sure she was okay.”

  “I kinda feel like a bug in a jar and when the sun comes up, someone’s gonna pull out a fat magnifying glass and fry my ass. But, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you checked in on me. Thanks for saving me twice in the last twenty-four hours.” Annalise yawned, her eyes growing heavy from the whiskey.

  “I’m glad I did too. Best conversation I’ve had with somebody in a long time.” He eyed the bars between them again and smiled. “Too bad it took a cage to find it. Probably says a lot about my conversational skills.”

  “Safety in what you can’t touch and can’t touch you.” She smiled, wishing the bars were gone. “Easier to be open from a distance, I guess.”

  He stood slowly, stretching out his back with a groan. “You gonna be okay in there for a few more hours? I’ll be asleep right upstairs. My guy will be up the rest of the night if you need anything.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she said in the same tone she had answered about the stitches. She would sleep, though for the first time in her life, she wished it wasn’t alone. The thought of laying her head on his chest as she drifted off was … Shit, the whiskey was stronger than she realized.

  “Night, Dimitri.” Her mouth spoke, but her eyes begged him not to go.

  “Night, Annalise.” He turned and crossed the room, and she watched him as he disappeared up the stairs.

  Sixteen

  Dimitri was the first to wake when four a.m. came calling—Knuckles, Trigger, and Jacoby were splayed out on the ground around the radio table beside him. After waking the others up, and then dressing and cleaning up as best he could in a house with no running water in the middle of fucking nowhere, he intended on seeing if Charlie kept up his end of the bargain and stayed awake to watch her, or if an ass-kicking was in order.

  He shuffled down the stairs, and when he reached the bottom step, Charlie perked up from a slouched position against the basement wall. A worn book sat to his left, and one was spread open in his hands.

  “Is that two books in one night, Charlie?” Dimitri asked.

  Charlie shrugged, yawning as he stood slowly. “Almost. I’ve got about a hundred more pages of Catcher and the Rye to finish.”

  “What’s this, like, the hundredth time through that one?” Dimitri chuckled.

  “Try thousandth, my friend.” Charlie grinned and motioned toward the cage. “Not a peep from her all night.”

  “Glad she got some rest. I’m sure she needed it.” Dimitri headed toward the cage, but paused for a moment, and turned his head back toward Charlie. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her, man, and for staying awake.”

  “Too easy, boss.” Charlie passed him a thumbs-up, and let out another big yawn. “I’m going to eat some chow real quick, and then I’ll help Trigger get the vehicle in order.”

  “Thanks.” Dimitri barely heard him. Not because of the stiff throb between his temples, or the groan of his turning stomach, but because of her, and how she seemed so completely at peace when she was fast asleep.

  He cleared his throat as if it had any chance of bringing her from comatose. He squatted down and leaned his head against the bars. “Pssst, Annalise … Rise and shine.”

  The dim room provided little difference from night to day as Annalise began to open her eyes. She was not as startled as she was the last time she woke. His voice was with her all night in her dreams and now there he was, luring her back to the land of the living.

  “Hey …” she mumbled sleepily, her head in a fog. She shook her head and tried to wake up fully. “That … um … whiskey.”

  She struggled to get the words out. For someone who never drank, two nights of alcohol in a row proved a little too much to handle. As soon as she could focus, she followed the sound of his voice to find him kneeling by the bars.

  “Real kick in the dick your first time, isn’t it?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “It was my old man’s favorite kind. So, naturally, it was my first introduction to alcohol.” He caught her mid-yawn, her arms stretched out above her head. He fought the urge to look … or to be caught looking at the very least. “You, uh, you gonna be good to go in ten?”

  Annalise arched her back, arms over head, legs straight out in front of her, and toes pointed. She held the dancer’s stretch, just as she had done every morning for the last ten years, letting out all the tension of the night, then exhaled a soft moan and relaxed. She looked up at Dimitri, suddenly embarrassed by the way he was staring at her. For a moment, she forgot she had an audience.

  “Sorry, habit,” she babbled in the awkward silence. She watched him apprehensively and wondered how much of the way he was with her last night was the whiskey and how much was really him. What will he be like today? “Well, let’s see. I have all these bags to pack, and I was considering a long, hot bubble bath.”

  He grinned, clicking his teeth. “Damn, looks like we just ran out of hot water.”

  “Well, in that case, would there possibly be somewhere I can pee?” She raised her eyebrows hopefully with a half-grin. She had been so dehydrated the day before, it hadn’t been a problem. But by that point, the whiskey demanded to be released.

  “Holy shit, you held it like a pro.” He stood straight, and wandered toward the back of the cage. “So, there’s really only two places to go, on account of having no running water.” He pointed behind the cage, out of her sightline. “A bucket back here”—then toward the stairs—“or outside. I’m not sure which is the better option for you, to be quite honest. It’s still pretty dark out there, at least. No neighbors for miles. And, well …” His eyes lingered on the bucket, and he grimaced. Kicking it lightly, he said, “This thing has seen quite a bit of use over the years.”

  “Well, I don’t actually have to sit on it. I can squat wherever at this point,” she answered, rocking her foot back and forth at the urgency. “I can see you’ve never had to be in a tutu for eight straight hours. We have restrooms about as bad backstage.” She laughed, pointing toward the bucket.

  “Thought about it once,” he said, smiling as he went to retrieve the bucket and a roll of toilet paper from behind the cage. “Signed up for classes, even, but I lacked the dedication. My greatest mistake, really.” He pinched the handle of the bucket between only two fingers, and grabbed the roll of toilet paper and he walked with them to the cage entrance.

  “Now I would pay money to see that. Hell, five hundred Gs, if I had it,” she answered grinning. “Now, about that bucket. Any chance you could hand it in here? I can squat, but I lack the equipment to pee through the bars.” She gave him a wink.

  He unlocked the hatch and opened it, setting the bucket down inside, then handed her the roll of toilet paper. “You will be happy to know our hotel offers toilet paper as well,” he said with a sly grin as she took it from him. He then left the cage and turned his back to her, taking a few steps forward as well.

  “It’s practically the Ritz Carlton. Bathroom attendants and all,” Annalise blabbered nervously and quickly took care of business, the whiskey ready to evacuate her bladder in a hurry. Careful not to touch the wretched bucket, she finished and dropped the folded paper inside. The bucket was filthy, and even looking at it made her stomach turn. “Done,” she said, backing away from it.

  He laughed, turning back around and retrieving the bucket. “I should’ve made one of my guys do it,” he said, setting it back behind the cage. “They’ll definitely be the ones to throw it out, that’s for sure.” He walked back to the open cage hatch and looked in at her. “You have no idea how many negative reviews we get for the bathroom.” He shook his head. “They aren’t usually too happy about our checkout policy either.”

  “I’d say not, except it’s pretty hard to leave a bad Yelp review if you don’t have any arms.” She giggled despite the morbidity of the sit
uation. Somehow, even there, in a cage in a dank basement, something about him put her at ease. How could she be more comfortable here with him than at dinner with her parents? “So then, where are we going? Or am I allowed to ask?” Annalise had to shift her thoughts. Stay in the present, survive one moment at a time.

  “You know as much about this house as you will the next. It’s a shitty house, bucket toilets and all, and it’s in the middle of fucking nowhere, like this one too. No cage there, at least. Just handcuffs today and freedom tomorrow.”

  “You had me at bucket toilet. Ready the chariot, my good man,” she joked, and then his words sunk in. Freedom tomorrow … a knot clenched in her stomach and bile burned the back of her throat. Annalise stepped instinctively back away from the cage door. As bad as this was, she didn’t want to go home. Anywhere but back there. Hell, even dead was better than home.

  “I’ll need your hands then, good lady. I’m gonna need to handcuff and blindfold you. The guys upstairs probably don’t have their masks on.”

  “Will you help me up the stairs?” she asked apprehensively as she raised her arms in front of her, offering her wrists. Thoughts of plummeting to the bottom of that rickety staircase filled her head.

  “Of course.” His eyes roamed toward the stairwell and he chuckled. “I wouldn’t make you do that alone. We don’t need you leaving here any more hurt than you already are.” He entered the cage and motioned to her side where the bloodstain had darkened as it dried. “How’s your side, by the way?” he asked, retrieving the handcuffs from his belt, and she turned her back to him and he put a hand up to stop her, gently grabbing her wrist. “I can cuff you in the front. Might be easier.”

  She smirked, nodding her head. She turned her wrists up and put them out for him. “You’re probably right.” Handcuffs. The heat from his skin warmed her as he grabbed one of her hands more than the whiskey ever could. The cold metal of the cuffs dangled against her arm in stark contrast causing a ripple of goose bumps. Annalise took in a sharp breath at the contact and searched for the words to answer his question.

  “My … side …” She looked down. She had been ignoring the pain and almost forgot the gash. Ignoring pain was her specialty, breathe through it and focus was her mantra. “It could probably use a bandage change at some point, if that’s an option,” she responded, acutely aware of his close proximity. Annalise struggled to breathe as his calloused hands worked her wrists.

  He motioned his head toward the lit stairwell. “Bathroom upstairs has a small med kit and stuff for you to brush your teeth and clean your face. No running water, but you can still use the sink, and there should be a water bottle in there for you,” he said, tightening the first cuff on her wrist.

  Her body went rigid as he locked it. She sucked in a breath, her mouth suddenly as dry as the Sahara.

  His hands froze. “That too tight?”

  She let the breath out slowly, controlling her emotions the best she could. With him that close, the pain mixed hopelessly with pleasure. “No. You’re not hurting me,” she managed, her face aflame to where he could see how affected she was. Why the hell do I feel this way? Annalise closed her eyes as he moved again.

  He continued with the other cuff, but more carefully that time. “This is definitely the only time I’ve ever given a shit about how tight the cuffs were in this room.” He smirked and gave her hands a light squeeze, then said, “This is just a precaution for transport, by the way. In case you get squirrely and try to run. You’ll only have one hand cuffed at the next house. A little more space.”

  “I probably would get squirrely if it weren’t for this gash in my side. Besides, I doubt I could ever outrun a motorcycle. Even in my best health.” She studied his expression, the smile that spread across his face, his perfect teeth. She passed a cocky shrug. “Guess you gotta watch out though, never know what Bonnie might do.” She attempted to lighten the mood, and hoped the man from last night was still in there somewhere.

  He laughed, his hand squeezing hers once more before he released them and dug into a cargo pocket. He pulled out a black tie and held it up. “Well, I can promise you a fresh blindfold, at least. Professional, right? I thought it might be better than the one we usually use. A little cleaner. I’ve worn a suit maybe twice in my life, so this thing’s fresh.”

  “Such a gentleman,” she commented with a smirk, eyeing the tie as it dangled from his hand, and then her eyes met his.

  He held the tie out, one end in each hand, and he cocked his head. “I try,” he said through a smile, and then he made her world go dark.

  She took a quick breath, and as he tied it around the back, she muttered, “In the dark, I guess I have no choice but to trust you.”

  His hands then brushed her face and it sent a chill down her spine. The soft silk of the tie offset his rough skin, but the tenderness with which he handled her was almost unsettling. The tie smelled strongly of his cologne, as if one of those two times he wore the suit was recent.

  “You can trust me, Annalise,” he whispered, and she felt him close, his breath against her skin. “Now, one foot in front of the other.” He guided her by the hand toward the steps, where he stopped abruptly and pulled her close. “I’ll lead the way. Just stay right behind me. Nice and easy, okay. Oh, and not that I really think you’d run, but there are some dangerous men up there who have been ordered to shoot, so just in case you were thinking about running … just don’t.”

  His voice almost growled with the last command. It reverberated through her, making each nerve ending come alive. With her sight eliminated, Annalise became acutely aware of the nuances of his touch. The smell of motor oil, cigarettes, whiskey, and his cologne, the combination was intoxicating. Her muscles tightened as she followed behind him, his strong, worn hand on hers. She should have been terrified. She should’ve tried to run, but all she could focus on was the heat from his hand holding hers.

  “You see the light from the stairwell? Just a few more steps,” he said, in a comforting tone.

  “Sort of,” she responded, desperately trying to identify a few strands of light peeking around the edges of the tie, tightening her grip on his hand.

  “Good thing you’ve got an excellent guide,” he said, his tone cocky, and then he abruptly slowed, and put a hand to her shoulder to stop her. She walked into the back of him regardless. He laughed. “I guess I’m not as good of a guide as advertised,” he said, his hands wrapping around her biceps, steadying her.

  She giggled nervously. “Is this an okay time to tell you I’m afraid of heights?” Her heart raced and she tried not to imagine herself rolling down the steps. She took a deep breath and squeezed his hand tightly as if it were a lifeline in a storm.

  He straightened the tie on her face. “I could always throw you over my shoulder, but I imagine that’s not a very good idea with that wound of yours.”

  “Oh, Jesus no! I’ll walk,” she blurted, squeezing even tighter. She did trust him. She couldn’t explain why. It didn’t make any sense.

  “Grab hold of my arm. I go a step, and then you go a step. I go. You go.”

  “Sounds easy enough,” she said and then let out a nervous chuckle. He guided her hands to his bicep and she took hold of him. Fuck, he’s even stronger than he looks. Ballet guys aren’t built like this. She swallowed and tried to look calm. She wasn’t sure which was more alarming, climbing the rickety ass stairs or the way he made her feel. Can he see what he is doing to me? I must be some kind of joke to him.

  When he reached the top, he turned, guiding her the rest of the way. The light flooded her blindfold then.

  “One more and you’re there,” he said.

  She heard another voice then. “I still don’t understand the blindfold.” The voice startled her, but then she recognized it from the day before. He had watched her for a few hours, most of which she slept. But she remembered his slight southern drawl and the wear to his tone. He was big too. Massive, really. His voiced continued as Dimitri led her across
the room in slow steps. “We’re in the middle of east fuckin’ Jesus. Hell, I hardly know where the fuck we are and I’ve been coming here for a while.”

  Dimitri stopped her, and then she heard the squeak of a door opening. “Take your blindfold off once you’re inside. Should be enough light from the window to see what you’re doing,” he said, and he guided her forward. “I’ll be right outside the door. Just knock when you’re finished.”

  Then she heard the door groan as it closed.

  “Turn around,” Dimitri ordered when he opened the bathroom door ten minutes later. His voice was cold and foreign. Annalise had only gotten a quick glance at him before she did as she was told. She caught a few others around him as well.

  Stunned, Annalise stood frozen, her handcuffed hands in front of her body and balled up in tight fists. This was not the man who spent half the night talking to her through the bars. She had planned on giving him shit for the cheap motel toothbrush that was the size of her pinky, but realized quickly, it wasn’t the time for jokes.

  Dimitri placed the tie back over her eyes with the same gentle touch but his voice betrayed the kindness he had shown her. He spun her around and for a moment, the tie lagged on the right side and she caught his eyes. He was wearing his mask, but he looked at her intently before leaning close.

  “Trust me,” he whispered, almost inaudibly, then slipped the tie completely over both eyes, and cinched it tighter. Her lower lip trembled.

  He quickly brushed his thumb over her lip, then ordered, “Let’s move,” and he guided her forward. “Do not try to run. Do not scream. No one will hear you anyway. Do you understand?”

  Annalise just nodded. His touch was so gentle but his words were cold, hardened. Was this the Dimitri who removed people’s limbs? The one who took lives as payment. She forced her breathing to slow and when he nudged her forward, she walked. He led her carefully across what sounded like a linoleum floor and through an ancient screened door onto a concrete porch. They made their way down three steps and across gravel. She heard the whir of a van door sliding open, heavy on its rusty track. It locked on the other end with a clunk.