Cara
And as it turned out, I should have been plenty worried. My shift ended a few hours after the confrontation with the guys in Damian's room. My head hadn't stopped swirling, and my anxiety had ramped up considerably. I was thankful that nothing too complicated had come through the ER doors or I might have accidentally killed somebody.
It was just before five in the morning when I walked into the parking structure to my car. The world outside was still dark and quiet. Typically, I enjoyed the early part of the day – the time just before sunrise when it felt like I was the only person in the world.
Our parking garage was secure, so I never gave too much thought to walking out there alone. I should have.
I had just slipped the key into the lock on my door when I felt cold metal pressed against the back of my neck.
“Open the door and get in, bitch.”
The voice was muffled as if he was wearing a mask, but I knew exactly who it was. I didn't need to see his face to recognize the voice.
“You don't have to do this,” I said, my voice trembling. “I wasn't going to say anything to anybody.”
“I said, open the fuckin' door,” he repeated. “Now.”
With a trembling hand, I opened the door.
“Get in and unlock the other door,” he demanded.
I did as he instructed and watched him as he kept his gun trained on me while he walked around the car and got in on the passenger side next to me, the car sagging beneath his weight. He wore a hat pulled low over his brow and a bandana up over his face so that only his eyes were visible.
“Start the car and drive,” he said.
“Look, I'm not going to say anything—”
“Shut the fuck up and drive,” he hissed.
I started the car and pulled out of the garage, my heart beating so hard I thought it might actually burst out of my chest.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“Just get to the highway and keep your fuckin' mouth shut.”
We drove to the freeway in silence. He pulled the bandana down from his face, but never stopped looking at me – or took his gun off of me. And to be honest, I wasn't sure which I found more disturbing. A cell phone rang in his pocket, and the man connected the call and pressed the phone to his ear.
“Yeah, I got her,” he said.
He listened to whoever was speaking on the other end of the line and nodded.
“Yeah, we'll be there in a few,” he finally said. “Go ahead and call that puto.”
The man disconnected the call and dropped his phone back into his pocket. I suddenly realized what was going on – what his plan was.
“You do realize,” I said, “that he has no connection to me. He's got no reason to come to you to save me.”
His laugh was low. Threatening. “We'll see.”
I shook my head. “Seriously. He's a patient in my hospital. Why in the hell do you think he'd come to you just so that you could kill him?”
“Because, I have a feeling about him,” the man said. “And you.”
“You're sadly mistaken.”
“Like I said, we'll see.”
The man directed me to a bar just outside of town. He had me drive around to the back where a large building sat. The bar looked to be in full swing while the outbuilding was dimly lit. Shadowy. And altogether frightening.
“Stop the car,” he said. “And shut off the engine.”
I did as he said and then looked at him. “This is all pointless. Damian owes me nothing. There's no reason for him to come out here.”
The man smiled wide. “Oh, it's Damian now, is it? And here I thought it was Mr. Hawke, just another patient in your hospital.”
Damn. Using his first name had been a little too familiar. It was a mistake.
“Get out of the car,” he said.
Still holding me at gunpoint, he walked me to a small door near one end of the building. It opened as we approached and the sound of music and the smell of weed came pouring out. The noise from the bar out front was muffled back here, but I could still hear it.
I paused before stepping inside and was rewarded with a jab to the small of the back by the man's gun.
“Keep moving,” he said.
I stepped inside and found most of the place dimly lit and shrouded in shadow. But the far end of the building was lit up brighter than the bar out front. There were maybe half a dozen guys over there laughing and joking with one another. Their voices were raised, and they echoed all around the building.
As the man walked me over to where his friends had gathered, the music was switched off, and the men stopped talking. All eyes turned to me. The men were all Hispanic and looked like hardened bikers. The name on their kuttes was Fantasmas – the gang who'd shot Damian.
A wave of fear rolled through me, chilling me to the bone.
“Welcome,” a man seated against the wall said.
The man had dark skin, darker eyes, and a long, black ponytail that hung to the small of his back. He had a joint in one hand and was exhaling a thick cloud of smoke.
“You must be nurse Winters,” the man added.
I remained silent for a moment – until the man behind me nudged me with the barrel of his gun again.
“Speak when you're spoken to, bitch,” he hissed in my ear.
“Y–yes,” I said. “I'm nurse Winters. And I'm not sure why I'm here.”
“What's your first name?” the man with the ponytail asked.
“S–Shelly,” I lied.
There was no way I was giving these creeps my real name. If by some miracle, I managed to survive and get out of here, the last thing I wanted was for these guys to be able to look me up. I just hoped that they didn't know I was lying and accepted the name I gave them at face value.
“Well, Shelly,” the ponytail man started, “let me tell you why you're here. Oh, I'm Ray Mendoza, by the way – President of the Fantasmas MC. You're here because we believe Damian Hawke would do anything to keep you safe. And given that we have a vested interest in getting him out of your hospital, and onto our turf, that makes you a very valuable bargaining chip.”
“You're wasting your time,” I said. “Like I told these other guys, it's not like I have any sort of a relationship with him. He has no reason to come out here for me. Even less since he knows you're going to kill him.”
Mendoza laughed. “Oh, we already called him and told him that you're here. He should be here any minute.”
I felt my blood run cold. As much as I feared for my life, I found that I was really worried about Damian's as well. These men were going to kill him the minute they saw him. But what could I do?
I looked around and saw that all of the bikers were staring daggers through me. If it were up to them, they probably would have put a bullet into me already. There was a table off to the side that held a large amount of weed and several guns. If I could find some way to get over to that table, I'd be able to use the guns – maybe give Damian and I a chance to escape.
“What are we gonna do with her once we off Hawke?” the man who'd abducted me asked Mendoza. “Sell her to the Russians? I bet we'd get a load of cash from them for her.”
Mendoza looked at me and licked his lips lasciviously. “Oh no, hermano,” he said. “This one's way too hot to sell into the sex trade. No, this one is going to stay here with me – she'll make a good pet. Don't worry though, you all will get a turn. She's gotta be broken in, after all.”
His words turned my stomach at the same time it made the knot inside of it constrict more painfully than it ever has. I felt my hands trembling, though I did my best to hide them. Never show them weakness – guys like this fed off of it. They were predators.
The idea that this guy, Mendoza, would lay a hand on me – it was sickening. And it very nearly made me want to use one of their guns on myself before letting them have their way with me.
I found myself hoping and praying that Damian would have a plan to get us out of there when he arrived. If he didn't – I didn't even want to consider it.