Four days earlier…
Trix
“What the hell was that all about?” Angel bounces alongside me as we make our way out of Caesars at a quick pace.
“I don’t know.” I’m only half lying. I do know that Drake is involved in some bad shit, and because Mason is always protecting his little brother, he’s been dragged in by default. What I’m confused about is Hatch’s aggression.
He’s always been a take-no-bullshit guy, but I’ve never felt unsafe with him. He’s never forced me to do anything against my will, and even after everything that happened between him and Gia, she made it clear he never took away her choices. But tonight was different, and for the first time, I felt genuine fear that he’d hurt me.
“Sucks we had to leave. I was having fun!” Kayla giggles, still drunk and completely oblivious.
Santos punches out a quick text, and by the time we exit the casino, our limo is waiting for us. We climb in, and even though I’m now safely inside the luxury car, I’m unable to take a full breath.
Mason’s still up there, which means anything could be happening. Going by the expression on Drake’s dad’s face, I’d say things are going to get worse before they get better. Mason’s not the type of guy who backs down when challenged. I just hope he doesn’t do anything to wedge himself in deeper with these criminals.
It’s a semi-quiet ride back to Zeus’s, except for Kayla who sang along with the radio while dancing in her seat. Too drunk to drive, the other girls will get a ride home in the limo while Santos grabs my keys and ushers me to my car.
“Come on.” He opens the passenger door and I slide in, grateful he’s driving me to Mason’s rather than dropping me at home.
He pulls out of the lot, and my mind tumbles over everything. I can’t help but feel like this is my fault. If I’d just backed off, ignored Hatch when he came back to town, given up on my quest, then Mason and Hatch wouldn’t be out to kill each other.
The Las Vegas lights streak by my window, and I close my eyes from the sensory overload. My head spins and my heart aches. I just want this all to be over.
Not sleeping, but somewhere in between, I register that we should’ve been to Mason’s house by now. Wait, how does Santos even know where Mason lives? I blink open my eyes and dread falls heavy in my belly. We’re headed out of Las Vegas.
Fuck! How did I not see this coming?
I swallow back the urge to scream and fear looking at the man next to me. The person who has been responsible for protecting all the girls at Zeus’s. The man who has protected me, been my friend, for nearly four years.
There’s no use in playing stupid. “How long have you been planning this?” The fearlessness in my voice shocks me.
He doesn’t answer right away, so I turn to him then and fight the urge to burst into tears. His jaw ticks, and I swear if I didn’t know better I’d think his eyes were glistening.
“How long?” My heart crushes, and the pain seeps into my limbs.
He clears his throat. “Not long.”
I nod and return my gaze to the inky black night. “Hatch?” It doesn’t make any sense. He knows where I live, slept in my house. If he ever wanted to kidnap me, he’s had plenty of opportunities to do it before now.
“No.” His hands tighten on the steering wheel.
No? I blink and rake through every possible explanation as to why I’d be an asset to anyone. But rather than come up with an answer, I only settle on one question.
I turn toward him again. “Why?”
His lips pull into a thin line. “They have Diane.”
“What?” My questioning shriek fills the small car. “Who does? Where is she?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t know.”
“Santos—”
“I can’t talk about this with you. Please, just . . .” He shakes his head. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry, Trix.” A single tear races down his cheek.
Shit, this is it. “It’s okay. I understand.” And I do. He’s protecting someone he loves. I’d do the same thing. “I’m . . . I’m not mad at you. You did what you had to do.” My last words are spoken on a whisper.
I need to call someone. 911. Without being too obvious, I walk my fingers toward my clutch that’s between us on the center console. If I could just get to my phone, I might—
“They took your phone.”
All the air rushes from my lungs. “Are they going to kill me?”
“They said no one would get hurt.” There’s doubt in his voice.
So that’s it. I’m completely at the mercy of God knows who.
That leaves me with only one thing to do.
I close my eyes and dip my chin.
Dear Father in heaven . . . help me.
“Call him.” Hatch tosses me my cell then pulls a chair up so close his knees touch the bed.
“Tell me where we are so he can pick me up, and I will.” After a short drive out of town, Santos pulled over to blindfold and handcuff me. He apologized the entire time, and I was done not being mad at him.
Now I’m furious.
I would’ve told him as much, but after one last apology, he left me in the car alone until I was joined by someone else. The person didn’t speak, but I could tell by the smell of his cologne it wasn’t Santos. My first response was to be terrified. Santos would kidnap me to save his wife, but he’d never really hurt me. I believed that with every ounce of my being.
Now that he was gone, I was in trouble.
And as much as I should sob and beg, I can’t. I’m way too angry for that.
I throw my phone on the scratchy polyester comforter. My shoulder aches from being handcuffed by one arm to the bed. Blackout curtains and only a single crappy lamp make it impossible to see anything that would identify where I am other than a shitty motel room.
Hatch growls and shoves my phone back into my hand. “Don’t fuck with me, Trix. You’re lucky you’re still breathin’. Call him now. Break shit off with him. Tell him whatever he needs to hear to know you’re safe but you’re movin’ on.”
I lean toward him until the muscles in my locked-up arm pull tight. “Fuck you!”
He jumps from his seat and presses the barrel of his gun to my temple. “You know how easy it would be to end you right here? Wrap your dead body up in this piece of shit bedding? Cost us nothing more than the price of replacing a comforter.”
I swallow back the urge to cry, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “Why are you doing this?” Human trafficking, prostitution, plain ole sick pleasure, all the reasons have filtered through my head, but none of them seem like Hatch.
How well do you really know him?
“Tell me why you’re doing this to me.”
“Pick up the fucking phone.”
I turn my head so that the barrel is now pressing into my forehead. Eyes fixed to his, I press in, making the gun dig so deep it’s bound to leave a bruise. “Why are you doing this, Hatch?”
An emotion flashes across his eyes, something akin to fear mixed with regret, but he pushes it back. He reaches into his back pocket, pulls something out, and drops it on my lap.
I blink down at the small piece of paper. A photograph with a watermark on the back. My pulse throbs in my throat. Is that . . .? I flip it over and slam my lips closed to avoid giving away a gasping response.
“You’ve been playin’ me.” Hatch punctuates his words with a shove of his gun.
“I don’t know what you’re talking ab—”
He grabs my chin and jerks my face to his. “Don’t fucking lie to me. You think I’m stupid? Think I don’t see the family resemblance. Shit, Trix.”
I try to rip my head from his grip, but he won’t let me, so I close my eyes.
“Lookin’ for information, huh? Gotta say loved the fact that you did that using your mouth and your pussy. No man with a dick n’ balls would pass up that kinda opportunity.”
He goes on to say more, but his voice fades to static. He recognized Lana. I’d never opened up to him about my personal life, never shared Lana’s story, so seeing her photo shouldn’t have raised any suspicion, unless he knew her.
My breath catches in my throat. “You were there,” I whisper.
I can’t look at him, can’t face the man who watched my sister get tortured to death and did nothing to save her.
“Didn’t touch your sister.”
Doesn’t matter. Watching it makes him just as guilty.
“But you were there.” Pain slices through my chest like phantom knives.
He doesn’t answer. “You share your investigative work with your pretty boy?”
“Tell me who did it.” The words come out of my mouth but sound nothing like me, more like a woman possessed. My veins pump with the urge to kill as the monster within rages for vindication. “Give me his name!” I lurch toward Hatch, but he steps back. Heat lances through my shoulder and arm as I tug at my restraints. My fingers itch to wrap around his throat and crush his larynx, to feel his life slip away from beneath my hands. A low grumble builds in my chest and escalates to a full-blown roar. “Fucking tell me—” My head jerks to the side, cheek inflamed by the powerful smack of his palm.
Without permission to do so, a single tear leaks from my eye and the fight seeps from my muscles.
“Now you know who you’re dealing with.” The weight of my phone presses into my hand. “Call him. Or you’re both dead.”
It’s morning. But only just barely.
Light shines through the one corner of the window where the blackout curtains pulled loose from their binding. I roll to my other side, having to go back and forth all night to keep blood circulating through my arm.
After talking to Mason last night, I finally allowed myself to cry. Telling him the one thing I promised him I’d never say—using the word good-bye—was my only hope at alerting him that something’s wrong. I hope to God he picked up on that.
I search the space of the small motel room and don’t see Hatch. He came and went a few times last night, but only for minutes here and there. Motorcycle engines roared throughout the night, and it would seem some of the other rooms are occupied by members of his MC. I wonder if they know I’m here. Would they do anything to help me if they did?
I close my eyes and try to concentrate on the path we took out of town. If only I’d paid closer attention. It seemed we headed south, or southwest? Maybe thirty minutes. I growl in frustration.
Hatch was smart enough to get rid of all the logos or clues in the room that might give away our location. Even the telephone has been removed. Fuck!
The sound of a motorcycle engine rumbles and gets louder before it goes quiet. I roll to my side to face the door, nervous about who might walk in and praying it’s Hatch rather than someone from his crew. As sick as it sounds, I’m safer with Hatch than anyone else. Lesser of two evils.
The door opens and I squint against the light. Hatch props open the door with his foot and kneels down to get something he’d placed on the ground. There’s a tag hanging from the door handle. Do not disturb. A logo. I blink, trying to focus against the bright light.
Majestic Mountain Inn.
“Got breakfast.” The door slams, and Hatch moves to the small table to drop a bag and two insulated to-go cups.
Majestic Mountain Inn. Majestic Mountain Inn. It said Majestic Mountain Inn.
He turns toward me, his eyes raking up my bare legs to my ass that’s on display from beneath the skin-tight and too-short dress I’ve been in since last night. “You look fuckable all tied up like that.”
If I had food in my stomach, I would’ve puked. Instead, I flip him off with my chained-up hand.
He chuckles and comes over to me, pulling a key from his pocket and holding it up for me to see. “You make one more call today, be a good girl, and I’ll let you eat and take a shower. Deal?”
Phone call! I nod. “Yes.”
He reaches behind one panel of his cut and pulls out my cell. “That place you work with the kids. Call—”
“How’d you know about that?” I never talked to him about my volunteer work, did I? It’s the only part of my life that was really and truly me, something I kept to myself.
He runs a callused finger along my lower lip. “I know everything, Trix.” His lips tighten and he drops his hand. “Call ’em. Tell ’em you’re out of town or taking care of a sick relative. Don’t give a fuck; just do it.” He presses the phone into my palm and then sits at my hip, watching.
My muscles protest as I push up to lean against the headboard. Nerves tick beneath my skin, and I wish I could do this in privacy. After all, how much can I say with Hatch sitting six inches from my face? With a trembling finger, I dial the Youth Center.
“LV Youth, this is Sylvia.”
I clear my throat. “Hey, Sylvia, it’s Trix.” I keep my eyes on Hatch.
“Trix, hi. What’s going on?”
“Listen, um . . . I have to go out of town for a while, um . . . sick family member.” I swallow. “My sister.”
Hatch pins me with a glare, and his jaw works back and forth.
I shrug and mouth I’m sorry, it just came out. Which is total bullshit.
“Oh, no. Honey, I’m sorry. Is it serious?”
“Serious? Yeah, I’ll probably be gone for a while, but I’ll let you know.”
“Okay, sure. Yes, family first. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Hatch gets up and moves to the table to grab his coffee.
“It’s alright. I’m kinda looking forward to going home.” I fist my hand around the phone.
“Where’s home again?”
I pinch my eyes closed and hold my breath. “Majestic Mountain.”
I brace for Hatch’s punishing slap.
“Where’s that? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Just outside of town—” My throat constricts with the power of Hatch’s hand wrapped around my throat.
“Sounds lovely.
My mouth opens and closes, but I can’t breathe enough to get a word out. I watch as Hatch tries to figure it out, his eyes darting around the room, searching for something he missed.
“I’ll get you covered here. You let me know when . . .”
Her words dissolve as black invades my vision. My eyes roll, and the phone falls from my hand as I fight for consciousness. He shoves the phone to my ear and releases my throat enough to suck in a quick breath.
“Oh, honey, don’t cry. Your sister’ll be okay.”
“Thank you.”
He mouths say good-bye.
“Good-bye.”
“Bye, Tri—”
He rips the phone from my ear. “Nice try.”
This time I see his fist coming, but it’s too late to brace.
I barely register the pain before everything goes black.
I wake up to a rumbling in my belly and a killer fucking headache. The room is dark, but that means nothing. It could be high noon and I’d have no idea. I roll to my back and groan as my head swims and my jaw aches. My arm is attacked by pinpricks as blood rushes to my numb fingers.
“Nice of you to wake up.” Hatch, that motherfucker.
I ignore him until something he tosses at me lands on my belly. I look down and tears spring to my eyes.
My phone. Shattered into multiple pieces.
“You did it to yourself.” He stands and moves to the bathroom.
Finally alone, I allow the tears to flow freely. I’m never going to see him again. After this, Hatch won’t let me live. He knows I’ll go to the cops, turn his ass in, and tell them everything I know.
My search for Lana’s killer has become my death sentence. I’d laugh at the irony if it wasn’t so fucking sad. This is going to destroy my family.
The sound of running water muffles my cry as the reality of my situation hits me square in the chest. I wonder if this was how Svetlana spent her last few days: crying, begging for mercy that never came. Hoping beyond hope that God would deliver her. Or maybe she was strong. She always was, and she had faith that even the worst situations could never shake. Did she look her killer in the eyes and grind her teeth against the pain? Challenge them with her determination to die without giving them the satisfaction of knowing they’d broken her.
Hatch grabs my arm and frees me from the bed. “Come on, sunshine. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Part of my brain registers that this would be a good time to fight. Being free means I could claw at him, find his gun, and scream at the top of my lungs until he put a bullet in my head.
But I’m weak and tired. So fucking tired.
He carries me to the bathroom and sets me down. He lifts my dress over my head and pulls off my boy shorts before motioning to the steamy cascade. “Go on.”
I half expect him to follow me in, rape me, at the very least demand something from me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he drops the lid on the toilet seat, sits down, and lights a smoke.
My toes hit the warm tub, and the heat sucks away every last bit of my energy. I sink to the floor of the dingy motel tub, pulling my knees to my face and wrapping my arms around my shins.
Dear Father in heaven, if this is it, if these are my last few days on this earth, please let them pass quickly. Have mercy on me in my death that it won’t be painful or messy. Comfort my family. They’ll need you now more than ever. And please, God, please . . . let Mason know that I love him, that he’s the only man I’ve ever loved, and that, even in death, I’ve dedicated my heart to him wholly and completely. Svetlana, moya sestra, moye serdtse. I will see you soon. Amen.