CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jillian
HE STEPS AHEAD OF ME, my chest rising and falling rapidly as my heart pounds against my chest in fear. Zeek fires his gun at the cop who tries to climb up, and he falls back. I scream. The killer that Zeek is capable of becoming at a moment’s notice rearing up at full force.
He isn’t going to let them take us without a fight.
Two more pop up in the hole, and Zeek fires his gun again. One falls back but the other continues forward, attacking Zeek like a football player. They both go through the ceiling, falling to the ground. Zeek struggles with the cop fighting to retrieve the gun. Movement catches my eyes behind me, another cop coming towards me. Grabbing my arm I punch him in the throat, causing him to fall back. Looking for a way to escape I find a small window about ten feet from where I am. Staying on the boards I walk quickly toward the window, hoping there will be something to break my fall once I climb out. As soon as my fingertips touch the windowsill, an arm is wrapped around my neck pulling me backward. Slamming my foot into the person’s knee cap he screams, falling to his ass. Taking my shot, I grip the arm that had hold of me and twist it breaking it with a loud crack.
Screams of pain ricochet through the attic as I let his arm go and look toward the window. The butt of a gun from another cop comes into my line of sight right before it strikes me in the face, knocking me to the floor.
“Goddamn, she can fight.” A voice echoes. My head throbs and I feel nauseous. I try to move my arms to fight back, but I’m too disoriented. My body is picked up like it weighs nothing, and I’m thrown over a shoulder. My head bobs as they take me down into the main area of the club. Zeek comes into focus handcuffed to the bar.
“You fucking let her go!” he demands, he’s practically foaming at the mouth. His face is red, near purple, veins protruding on his forehead. “Take me! My uncle wants me!”
“Zeek.” I try to yell his name, but it comes out sounding weak and pitiful.
“I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill you if you hurt her.” He yanks hard at the cuffs, and Deputy Orlando Needon chuckles. How did he get here? He’s a scumbag from my department who has been trying to get me into his bed since I started working with him. He’s a prick, and if I believed anyone was dirty in my department, it’d be him.
“Oh, there will be hurt, there will be lots of pain, Zeeky boy.” Orlando rams the end of his gun into Zeek’s side, making him cough in pain.
“Stop,” I croak, trying to lift myself from the shoulder I’m on but fail miserably. My world spins with the effort, my surroundings darkening as everything goes black.
Zeek
JILLIAN’S LIMP BODY BOBS and jerks as they leave, my wrist bleeding and bruised as I yank and pull on the cuffs attached to the fucking bar. The side of my shirt is soaked with blood from the stitches being torn open, but I could care less about any of the pain. The only thing I feel is the rage and fear growing in my chest. It’s fucking unbearable.
“JILLIAN!” I scream, hoping she can hear me.
“Get me out of these fucking cuffs!” I roar, pulling as hard as I can.
Everyone is still zip tied or handcuffed, they didn’t let any of us loose.
“Wait, I think I almost got it,” Bobby says, pulling his feet up to his hands. He’s on his belly, his hands and feet zip tied.
He pulls at his pant leg, and pulls out a knife. He releases his legs with a deep sigh, and starts working on getting his body to roll over so he can sit up. He rocks, bending his knees awkwardly.
“Come on!” I demand, my eyes flicking between the door and him. I’m never going to know which way they went if he doesn’t hurry the fuck up.
“Why didn’t they take you, too?” Bull questions.
“I don’t fucking know,” I huff. Actually I do, but to say it out loud scares the fuck out of me. Frank is using her against me, he has a plan for her.
“Got it,” he groans as he begins to saw at the restraints. I continue to pull and clank the metal against the pole attached to the bottom of the bar, anchoring it to the floor. Praying the cuff will break, but it doesn’t even dent.
Bobby gets up and saws at Bull’s zip ties next. I roll my eyes and continue to beat the fuck out of the cuffs against the pole.
Finally, he has his President free and makes his way over to me, only to be stopped mid-step.
“Bobby, go get the saw cutter,” Bull orders before making his way over to me and grabbing at the cuffs, stopping me from breaking my goddamn wrist.
“You snapping your wrist in half ain’t going to do anyone any good. Relax.”
“You don’t understand what Frank is capable of if he gets to her first.” Shaking my head, I rest it on the bar, and pray to God I can get out of here and find her before she’s turned over to Frank.
“You mean the pig you brought into my club?” His voice is sharp and pissed off.
“It’s not like that.” I don’t raise my head, I don’t look at him. I know he won’t understand.
“Why don’t you try and tell me why you’re running again, and don’t fucking lie. Otherwise, I’ll just let you rot right here.”
“I went against my brotherhood. I slept with a cop. My club found out and my uncle set me up, made me kill Jillian’s father right in front of her. Then he tried to kill her, and I know he would have tried to kill me, too, so I snatched her and ran.” The room goes silent. The events of what took place replaying in my mind over and over. “None of this is her fault, she’s innocent.”
Vibration hits the cuffs, causing me to look up and find Bobby sawing at them. Within seconds they snap free.
Rubbing at my wrist I barrel out of the club, in search of Jillian.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Lip hollers, running after me.
“To find Jillian.”
“You can’t do that, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Not like you cared about either of us anyway, you shot me and were throwing us out today. Well, here’s us out. Now fuck off,” I sneer, heading towards the road.
“And my reaction to you showing up here is my fault? This is all your fault, Zeek, you killed one of my brothers, for Christ’s sake.” I stop, my fists clenched.
“NO! This is your fault just as much as it is mine. Did it ever occur to you to ever fucking pick up the phone, to call me, to fucking talk to your own brother? No, you ran. You fucking ran with our mother, and left me to decide everything.”
“Our dad—”
“You think he was nice to me? You don’t think I didn’t get my ass beat, Lip? I did. If I didn’t hold a gun right, or I said the wrong thing at the wrong time in front of the wrong people I got the shit knocked out of me. Hell, he broke my fucking wrist one time because he lost a bet that I could outshoot another club’s president’s son.” I eye him from head to toe, his look of surprise not lost on me. “I know you thought I had it better, but I didn’t, not by a long shot. Only difference was you had Mom behind you, I had nobody.”
Lip’s eyes widen, his mouth parting.
“Yeah, but Tom Cat’s—”
“It’s easy for you to place blame, when all you did was run away from your problems, Lip. All I wanted was my brother when I needed him most; you denied me. You were disrespectful, and wouldn’t give me a chance. I took your bitch because I knew it was the only way to get your attention and then shit got out of hand—” I throw my hand at him, done with this shit. “It doesn’t fucking matter. It doesn’t change anything.”
I double my steps, looking up the road for a car to jack.
Stepping up to a yellow Neon I yank on the handle.
“I didn’t know Dad did those things, that he beat—”
“Doesn’t matter, Lip.” I kick the door and it pops open. Neon’s are the easiest to break into.
“Think Frank will really hurt her if he gets to her?”
I nod, saying the words hurts too much.
“Come on, we can take the club’s SUV.”
Furrowing my brows I look at him in confusion, wondering why he would help me and what his motives really are.
“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for her.”
Jillian
I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING. My hands are handcuffed behind me causing all my weight to rest on my shoulder painfully.
As soon as we made it outside two men climbed out of an SUV. One covered my head with a black pillowcase while the other handcuffed me. I was then tossed into the back seat.
My breath bursts in and out in heavy pants making the fabric of the pillow case suction to my nose. It’s so hard to breathe, but I continue to take in as much air as my lungs will allow.
“Thanks for the delivery.” An unfamiliar male’s voice sounds from outside the car.
“Where is my cut?” Deputy Needon asks. The door to the SUV shuts, and I can’t hear the conversation any further.
Shifting in the back seat, my head bumps against something warm, like a leg. A door to the front of the car shuts, and the SUV is put into gear.
“Back to the casino, Cross.” A man’s voice from beside me orders. A warm hand brushes the hair from my neck. I jerk away, and a maniacal laugh fills the car.
“You have good instinct to be afraid of me, little piggy.” The leg my head was resting against shifts, and a warm breath sweeps across my neck. My stomach falls, an uncontrollable shakiness in my limbs from being scared. “I kill pigs, not fuck them.” The man’s voice holds a thick Italian accent to it, the smell of strong cologne suffocating even with the bag on my head. A small whimper trembles from my lips at his threat.
Closing my eyes, my skin races with fear. My heart pounding in a slow pace as I try to take in everything around me. This is Frank.
I was trained to be brave. I was conditioned to be a hero and rely on the justice system. But I feel none of those things right now. Right now, I’m terrified, I’m scared, and I am hoping that Zeek comes and kills every one of these assholes.
The car turns, and I slide into the leg more. Suddenly nauseated, my stomach turns. I retch as my throat pulses with the warning I’m about to puke.
“I’m going to get sick,” I warn, trying to sit up.
“Don’t you fucking puke on me!” Frank orders, shoving my head away from him. The car comes to a screeching halt, nearly throwing me into the floorboard.
The bag is pulled from my head, the light blinding me, as my door is yanked opened. I don’t even see who opens it as I’m kicked from the car so quickly. My back stings where a foot was just slammed, as my body lands on the side of the road with a thud. Vomit races a flaming path up my throat and expels itself onto the side of the road. My stomach clenches, my throat burning, until my stomach empties completely.
Panting, I still to see if I’m done. Trying to buy myself some time, I spit and cough hoping Zeek will show up on a bright and shiny motorcycle to save the day. My vision is blurry from my eyes watering as I look under the SUV toward the road, but there isn’t any sign of a motorcycle, or any car for that matter. No Zeek.
“Are you finished?” Whipping my head to Frank, I see him for the very first time. He has black hair that’s wavy and rests on his shoulders, his eyes dark, and large. He’s wearing a nice suit with a red tie. I’m not sure who he’s trying to fool. He looks like a criminal even under that expensive looking suit. “Fuck you,” I rasp, my voice hoarse from puking.
He scrunches his lips and snaps his fingers. The passenger side of the SUV opens, and a man with black slacks and a white button up shirt gets out. He’s short and stocky, black hair slicked back with tattoos up his neck.
“Put her nasty ass back in the car.” He grabs the metal linking my cuffs and hauls me up, throwing me face first back into the car. Frank grips the back of my neck harshly, and I grit my teeth to keep from whimpering. “You want to fuck me, piggy? If you’re willing, then you’re not my type, sweetheart.” He shoves me against the door, before releasing his hold on my neck. Sweat barrels up my spine, my chest rising and falling swiftly as I watch him from the side of my eye. I’m not going to lie, I’m scared to death that today is the day I die.
His eyes slowly meet mine, a serious expression fitting his face.
“There it is,” he smiles.
“What?” I snide.
He leans in, a Joker smile stretching across his face and any training, any bravery that was hiding in the pit of my stomach coils up my throat expelling in a whimper. “The fear!” The look on his face alone shows how insane Frank really is.
“Um boss, we’ve been driving around all day, can we get some food before we hit the road?” A voice from in the front asks.
“Are you fucking kidding me, Alfeo?” Frank waves his hand around angrily.
Alfeo, I close my eyes trying to program that name into memory.
“We have been driving around all day, waiting for that fucking Deputy Skeeter to get his head out of his ass and help us. Who knew a fucking transfer from Vegas to here would be so complicated. Besides, I need to refuel,” Alfeo explains. I close my eyes, and take a steady breath. That is why Deputy Needon was at the club. He’s dirty, and works for Sin City Outlaws. To get leverage here in LA, Frank had him transferred.
“Fine. Get food, then we need to get back on the road.” Frank’s brow raises. “Make it quick.” Looking over the seat I notice Alfeo has a bigger build, and when he leans forward he’s sporting a black ponytail.
“You hungry, piggy?” Frank nudges my leg. Snapping me from assessing Alfeo. I turn and glare at Frank. “You must be hungry.” A genuine smile crosses his face, and I swear to God it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen. The look on his face alone shows how insane Frank really is.
I think I prefer the Joker smile.
I don’t reply, I continue to look at the back of the seat.
“Oh, come on, you must eat.” Tears threaten to spill from my burning eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I hate that he’s trying to be nice, I know it’s fake. Closing my eyes I inhale a staggered breath. I am strong, I am the one with professional training, and a boyfriend who will not stop until I’m found. I can survive this. I will walk away from this.
Opening my eyes, my brows narrow, determination taking over.
“Zeek will come for me,” I eventually break my silence.
Frank’s eyes flick to mine, his face unreadable. “Oh, I hope he does, that’s the plan,” Frank chuckles, confusing me.
The SUV comes to a stop, and I try my hardest to lift myself up and look out the window. I fail, I can’t see a damn thing.
“Hey, Cross, grab me a Coke and get a burger for our friend.” Frank demands, ordering the guy in the passenger seat around. Cross…it sounds familiar, but I can’t put a finger on it.
Minutes pass by and then a hand slaps my thigh and I jolt. “You feeling any better?” Gritting my teeth I try and inch away from him. “Oh, you can’t escape me, little piggy. Learn that now.”
The doors open and the vehicle dips as Cross and Alfeo climb back inside.
“One Coke and burger.” Alfeo hands the food to Frank.
“Here, sit up.” Grabbing onto my cuffs as if they’re a fucking leash, he pulls me closer, and unfolds the wrapper enclosing the burger. The smell of charbroiled meat and warm cheese wafts around me. My tongue suddenly feels too big and my throat pulses with the urge to vomit once more. I swallow, hoping it will pass when my stomach flips upside down.
A choke-cough rips up my throat. Cross turns in his seat mid bite of his burger and eyes me with a worried look.
“I think she’s going to get sick again.”
“Damn it!” Frank leans over and opens my door, his hand sporting gold rings. He pushes my head over the side of the car. I try to hold the puke back, but it has a mind of its own and hot vomit spills from my mouth. Over and over, I puke. I spit, trying to get the taste out of my mouth, but it does nothing to overcome that acidic taste coating my tongue.
I’m pulled back in, and the door shuts as soon as I’m finished.
“You sick or something?” Cross asks, turning back in his seat. Using my shoulder I wipe my mouth on my shirt, ignoring his question. It’s just stress.
“Maybe she’s pregnant,” Alfeo suggests casually, his mouth full of food.
Frank stills, his eyes widening as he looks my way. “Are you?” A big toothy smile spreads across his face, the physical weight of his stare making me uneasy. My hands instinctively try and shield my lower section as I shake my head. Looking down myself I let the thought sit for a moment. Zeek has pulled out every time since before the trap house, so the chances are slim of me being pregnant. Right? I’m not sure how preventive pulling out really is…
Frank doesn’t say anything further; he just rubs at his chin as his large creepy eyes look pensive. I scoot closer to the door and look out the window. God, hurry Zeek.
Grabbing my cuffs Frank suddenly yanks me down into the seat, my head now in his lap. I try to pull away from him, but his grip is strong. His hand brushes the hair from my face tenderly, and eerily.
“I think you just made everything a whole lot easier,” he whispers. My stomach falls, my head spinning with the twisted shit Frank would say or use against Zeek.
“I’m not pregnant,” I point out, my words sharp.
“Guess we’ll find out, hmm? How much longer before we reach the casino?” Frank barks, his cold hand caressing my cheek. My eyes burn with the urge to cry; the touch of softness contradicting this man’s twisted plans for me, making it harder to comprehend the reality of this situation.
“Couple hours,” Cross answers.
“Get us there faster.”
“You got it, boss,” Alfeo obeys, the vehicle picking up speed and accelerating quickly.
“You think that’s a good idea?” Cross asks, looking over his shoulder.
“Are you questioning me?” Frank’s hand stills, and so does my heart.
“No sir,” Cross replies, turning in his seat.
The vibrating hum of the car, and the way Frank is petting me causes exhaustion to set in like a dead weight. I try to lift myself up, to wake myself up but Frank refuses to let me up. Blinking and yawning, I eventually succumb, and fall into the haziness of a deep sleep.
Maybe when I wake, it’ll all just be a nightmare.
A horrible nightmare that Zeek will save me from.