Her mind felt like it was full of cotton candy made of lead. She could grasp where she was and what was happening to her. She understood that the drug was doing this to her, but couldn't fight past the effects.

 

The door opened and another man entered. She was aware of this part, too. Like her mind, she had little control over her body, as well. The man got in the bed, just like the others. It would be over soon enough. She reached for Cole again and again, trying to find her connection to him.

 

It didn't matter what these other men were doing. She just needed Cole to know that she loved him and always would, and that she was sorry. She pushed and stretched, and reached as hard as she could through the leaden cotton candy, searching for him. When she felt him, she felt a jarring, mind-clearing wrath and a rush of night wind that was nearly harsh enough to clear away the fog in her mind.

 

Her eyes cleared enough to see the man on top of her, "He's coming now and he's going to kill you," she snarled. Her voice was cold, and held all the wrath she was feeling from Cole.

 

The man jumped back, off her, "Fucking crazy bitch!"

 

"Run, but it won't matter," she said, but after that, the heroin flooded her mind again. Her eyes filled with darkness and Cole was lost to her. Then the tears came.

 

***

 

Gabriel sat in his office chair, looking out the open windows at the early night sky, feeling better than he felt in weeks. That stupid bitch Nicole was exactly where she belonged. The Horsemen were put in their place and business was up and running. Well, almost all of his business. There were still a few houses that needed repairs from the raids, but that was minor.

 

After he was done with Nicole, he would show her off to the other call girls to let them know what happens when you decide to leave. The only thing that bothered him was where the hell did Nicole get the money. Three quarters of a million dollars was a helluva lot of money. How the fuck did she pull that?

 

At first he assumed she was lying about this and had some stupid little whore idea of trying to shoot him when she got here; that it was just a ruse. But after he put her down, he opened her laptop and there, on the screen, was her account information and the waiting transfer. He tried to finish the transfer, but the time limit had passed and the account was locked, asking for the password again.

 

"Where the fuck?" Gabriel mused and wondered if the rest of these fucking call girls had that kind of money, as well.

 

If they did, they certainly had the resources to leave him and though he would like to believe he could find them with a million at hand, they could run far and fast. He needed security against this possibility. He worked too hard getting these girls promoted and their calendars filled. They couldn't just go whenever they pleased!

 

The cellphone of the guard at his office door rang and the guard stepped away, down the walk, to answer it. Gabriel really liked these enforcers of Lou's. They were quiet, well dressed, polite, and very impressive. Most of them were very good looking, as well. He decided he would like at least five of them as a personal guard.

 

Lou, of course, that fucking wrinkled up spic, was going to attempt a take over as soon as the month was over, but that wasn't going to happen. He could deal with Lou. Gabriel noticed the guard look over his shoulder at him and then nod his head, agreeing to whoever was on the phone. Then the guard was coming back to the office, still on the phone. Instead of stopping at the door, however, he continued up to Gabriel's desk and then offered the cellphone to him, "Boss wants to talk with you."

 

"Boss? Your boss? That's me for another month," Gabriel reminded him, but he took the phone. "Who is this?"

 

"Hello, Gabriel," Lou said.

 

Gabriel watched the guard talk into the ear radio, giving commands. "Lou? What can I do for you?"

 

"Oh, don't worry about that, Gabriel; that will all be done for you. You don't have to worry about a thing. What I'm calling about is my good, very dear to me, friend Nicole who I've just learned made a deal with you that you reneged on."

 

"What? What are you talking about?" Gabriel squawked.

 

"Not only did you fail to do your end, but you have her locked up, drugged up, and being raped. I have to tell you, Gabriel, that takes balls. Big fucking balls to do that to one of my friends," Lou continued.

 

"You can't be serious," Gabriel said, "She's a fucking whore and she's my whore. You can't tell me what to do with my own whores!"

 

Five of the guards came into the office, walking straight for him. They weren't stopping. Their purpose was so clear it cut through Gabriel's confusion and he went for the gun in his desk. The closest guard pulled his weapon with practiced grace and blew a hole into the desktop, making Gabriel jump back. He screamed and threw the phone at the man, bouncing it off his chest and then they were on him, holding him down. He struggled and screamed, and kicked while they handcuffed him and then hauled him to his knees, holding his head up by his hair.

 

A guard put the phone back to his ear. "Lou! All right! How much? How much?"

 

"You piece of fucking filth," Lou's voice said, "There is no amount. None. You do this to my friend, Nicole, and expect to pay for it? No! You're fucking dead! Because if that Cole fellow doesn't kill you on sight, I'm going to spend from now until tomorrow morning killing you with more pain than the gods could stand! Good-bye, you fucking piece of shit!" The connection broke.

 

Stunned, Gabriel looked at the men and screamed, "No! Lou! She's just a fucking whore!"

 

Dragging him by his cuffed arms, they took him out of his office and then down the elevator to the lobby of the house. He struggled and thrashed wildly, trying to escape and didn't stop until he was completely exhausted, and put on his knees in the lobby by the front door.

Firefights broke out throughout the house. Gabriel assumed that it was his own men either attempting to help him or attempting to escape, themselves. The volleys were short, though, and the silence after each of them, telling.

 

He searched frantically for an answer, a means of escape. This was wrong, all wrong. This couldn't happen to him. Not over a fucking whore.

 

Then the thunder of Harley engines came down the drive.