CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

AVERY

WE PULL UP TO THE BACK of the warehouse and walk in the double doors. Darrell stands with his back to us and his cell to his ear. “Yeah, it’s all good here,” he says, nodding once. “They don’t suspect a thing.”

Fucking bastard!

My blood starts to boil, and I see red. I lift my gun and place it on the back of his neck. “Actually, I do.” My voice vibrates with my anger.

His body stiffens, and I yank the phone from his hand. I place it to my ear. “Who the fuck is this?” I demand.

Click.

I hand the cell to my brother. “Find out who that number belongs to.”

He takes it and walks away, heading to the office in the front of the building. He’s our tech guy. If there’s a trace, he’ll find it. I have no doubt. Now I’m glad I didn’t shoot him in my study.

“Where is she?” I demand.

“I don’t know …”

“Don’t play fucking dumb!” I shout and then hit him on the back of the head with my gun. He falls to his knees. “Next time, I’ll shoot you.”

He turns on his knees to face me and Kayn. He too has his gun pulled and trained on Darrell, and he starts to laugh. “You think you two scare me?” He shakes his head. “You’re not as big as you think you are, Avery.”

I start to pull back on the trigger, my gun still trained at his head.

“Dead men can’t speak, sir,” Kayn announces, getting my attention.

“Injured ones can,” I say and fire the gun.

The power behind the bullet sends him falling back onto the concrete floor. The sound bouncing off the open warehouse, momentarily deafening me. He grabs his right arm, screaming out as blood starts to pour from the wound.

Then I pull the trigger again and shoot the other one. “Now. Talk,” I order.

His lips pull back, hissing in a breath. “She’s as good as dead.”

“You better hope that’s not the case.” I will set this town on fucking fire! I will burn every person until I get to one who tells me where the fuck she is! The devil himself would be impressed with how determined I will be.

He looks up at me, eyes narrowing. “If she’s not already, then she’s praying for it.”

I kick him in the face, and his head snaps back. “Fucking tell me where she is!”

He moans, falling onto his side. The smell of his blood getting stronger by the minute. I usually revel in it. Savor it. But I don’t have the time right now. He is right. Is she fighting to live? Has she already given up?

“Did you give her to Damon?” I demand.

He lets out a strangled laugh. “Why do so many of you guys want that bitch? Is she that good of a fuck?”

My jaw tightens, his words letting me know that it wasn’t Damon. Who else would fucking want her? And what do they plan on doing with her? I lower my gun and look at Kayn. “I need a few things.”

_______________

“I won’t tell you where she is,” he snarls, shaking his head. “Never.”

“We’ll see,” I say, removing my Rolex from my wrist. Then I undo the buttons on my sleeves and roll them up to my elbows.

He sits in a metal chair in the center of the warehouse with his wrists tied to the back legs. Blood runs down both arms to the floor, and his head hangs forward.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” I inform him in case he doesn’t already know.

His only response is a grunt.

“Kayn, why don’t you help him out? Don’t want him to bleed to death before we’re done.”

Kayn walks over to him and digs his hands into the bucket by Darrell’s feet. He grabs a hand full of the contents and then places them on his arm over the bullet wound.

Darrell’s head falls back, and he grits his teeth, refusing to make a noise while Kayn presses salt into the wound—packing it tightly. He then takes the plastic wrap and wraps it around his upper arm to keep it in place. “The salt helps stop the bleeding and closes the wound faster,” I inform him. “It hurts like a bitch, but it allows me to torture you longer.”

“Fuck … you,” he says through clenched teeth while Kayn does the other.

I don’t have time for this! “Tell me where she is.”

He shakes his head, and I walk over to him, yanking his shoes and socks off his feet. I grab the bucket of water and place his feet in it. Then I take the car battery off the table and place it on the floor along with the jumper cables.

I shove a rag into his mouth and connect the cables to the battery and let it shock him for ten seconds.

His body jerks, and he makes unintelligible noises into his gag. I unplug it and rip the rag from his mouth. “Ready to speak?” I ask.

He looks up at me. His eyes narrowed with rage. A vein pops out of his head. “I hope you enjoyed fucking her while you had the chance …”

My hand shoots out and wraps around his large neck with so much force it knocks his chair back. I go down to my knees while the chair slaps the floor. He lies on his back looking up at me as I squeeze his large neck.

His mouth opens but nothing comes out. I grind my teeth, squeezing so hard my hand fucking shakes.

His body jerks, trying to fight the ropes binding him to the chair. His face red, eyes large with fear. “I’m gonna kill you so fucking slowly,” I growl, “you’re gonna wish I had just shot you in the head.” I release him and stand to my full height.

He coughs, and his body jerks. He spits, and the blood splatters over his face. “If you wanna shoot someone ...” He wheezes. “Shoot yourself. You did this to her.”

I take my gun and press it into his kneecap. “Last chance. Where is she?”

He starts to laugh, but it turns into a cough. “Where she belongs.” His lips turn into a sadistic smile. “Being a real fucking slave.”

I pull the trigger, and it takes out his right knee.

He throws his head back, and it hits the concrete floor, growling through gritted teeth.

“He … came to … me …”

“Who came to you?” I snap, already pressing the gun to his other kneecap.

He opens his mouth to speak.

“Avery!”

I look over my shoulder to see Tristan running toward us from the front office. His eyes wide, and his cell in his hand.

“Did you find out who the number belongs to?” I growl. He interrupted whatever Darrell was about to tell me. It better be worth it.

He nods, then looks at Darrell lying on his back tied to the chair. His eyes come back to mine. “It’s Vaughn.”

My blood runs cold at that name. The sadistic son of a bitch will treat her exactly like a slave. He’ll rape her. Torture her. He’ll make her scream again and again. He’s like me; he likes to watch things bleed. But eventually he’ll grow bored with her and just leave her chained up to die of starvation and dehydration. Then he’ll throw her out with the trash.

I take a deep, calming breath, trying to get my head on straight. Thoughts of her tied down and bleeding keep entering my mind, but I have to push them aside. I have to get to her. And now.

“Avery.” My brother’s voice rings out. “We need to go …”

I block him out as the blood rushes in my ears. Even Tristan knows she may already be dead. We may already be too late.

I kneel and look at Darrell, trying not to fucking shoot him in the Goddamn face. “Why the fuck were you talking to my brother?” I demand.

Vaughn is our oldest brother. The only son our father cares to acknowledge. ’Cause he wanted to own slaves. Just like our dad.

He gives a rough laugh. “Because he pays better than you.”

I press the gun to his temple, and he lets out a whimper. Not so fucking tough, are you? “You’re gonna take me to her.”

“She’s already dead.” His head falls to the side. He’s starting to lose consciousness.

I stand, the gun resting against my thigh. “Did you get a location on the phone?”

“Yes. But he could already be on the move …”

I look at Kayn. “Leave him here.” Then I turn my back on them and walk past Tristan. “Where is she?” I demand.

“Vancouver.”

I stop dead in my tracks and turn to face him. “Here?”

He nods. “About twenty minutes out.”

I look at Darrell’s body and then back at Tristan. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why take her and not run? He’s had her for forty-eight hours.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Kayn says. “It could be a trap.”

I run a hand down my face. Think. Vaughn has never been a sane man. Even as a child, he needed help. My mother tried to get it for him before she left us, but my father wouldn’t allow it. He found him and his twisted fucking mind to be perfect.

I look at Tristan. “Call your men.”

He nods. “How many you want?”

“At least ten.” I’m not gonna go in there blind, and I’m also not going to take my men. One of them is currently dying in my warehouse. I can’t trust the others at the moment.

“You’re wasting your time,” Darrell wheezes. Kayn has untied him, and he’s lying on his back next to the chair. “You’re not listening.” He swallows. “She. Is. Dead.” His head falls to the side while he lies in a puddle of his own blood. “Even if you get to her in time … she’ll need …” He coughs, and his body jerks. “Medical attention.”

My chest tightens at his words. He knew exactly what he was doing and still just handed her over.

“Call Lance,” I snap to Tristan. “He can go with us …”

Darrell starts to chuckle roughly and rolls onto his side. “The only men … you can trust … are in this room.” His voice is barely a whisper.

“How do you know that?” Tristan snaps.

His eyes close, and I run over to him. I kick him in the side. “Wake the fuck up!” He doesn’t move.

“He’s lost too much blood.” Kayn sighs. “You’ve killed him.”

Leaning down, I check his neck and I grind my teeth when I feel no pulse. He’s dead. “Motherfucker!” I hiss.

Kayn pulls out his phone. “I have someone. He’s a trauma surgeon. But it’ll cost …”

“Fucking call him! Tell him to meet us back at my house. Then call Marvin and inform him that we are expecting a visitor,” I order, heading toward the door.