Eagle

The next morning, three more brothers show up at the cabin. Tonsils sent two additional members to search Shreveport and the surrounding area yesterday. I’m a madman, unable to stay calm. Angel might be dead, it’s a reality I face now. This situation reeks of revenge—Dead Dog style.

After making a dozen phone calls and getting nowhere, Cannon brings me a cup of coffee and his cell phone. “I think you need to take this call,” he says.

“Who the fuck is it?”

“Tito.”

“Tito?”

“Lazaro’s cousin.”

The motherfucker who tried to rape Angel? I hold the phone to my ear. “Don’t waste my time,” I warn.

“Missing something you want back?” he asks.

I slam my fist on the table and lean forward in my chair. “Where the fuck is my wife?”

“Calm down, vato,” he says.

“Where is she?”

“Safe for the moment,” he answers. “But I can’t guarantee it for too long. Its gonna cost you.”

I switch the phone to speaker. “How much?”

“Twenty G’s, bro.”

“Where and when?”

Cannon writes all the information down while I keep the lecherous bastard on the phone. When he’s finished giving me the details, I give him dire warning. “If this turns out to be bullshit, Tito, I’m coming for you.”

He chuckles. “I just want the money.” He hangs up.

Luckily I have a safe stocked with fifty thousand in untraceable bills. It doesn’t take long to gather the money and ride to the rendezvous point Tito designated. Three of us arrive at a pavilion on the Red River, five miles from the cabin.

An hour later, a late model Ford pickup truck slowly approaches us from the south. It parks a few yards away from our bikes and two men get out. One has a high-powered rifle and points it in our direction while Tito struts over, confident he’s safe.

It takes everything I have to keep from beating the shit out of Tito and then putting a bullet through his skull. I pat the Glock I keep in my waistband. Cannon steps in front of me and deals directly with the motherfucker.

“There’s twenty thousand in this envelope,” Cannon says. “Show me what you got.”

Tito offers him a pile of photographs. After Cannon thumbs through them, he hands them to me.

There’s shots of Angel and I from outside her apartment in Texarkana, at the cabin, and in Holly Beach. Even one of us making love in the front yard a couple days ago. I crumple the photos and drop them on the ground, growling as I launch myself at Tito. I grab a fistful of his shirt and land two punches on his face before his partner shouts.

“Touch him again and I’ll blow your fucking head off.”

I immediately back off.

“Enough evidence to get your attention, bro?” Tito asks.

I nod.

“Give me the money.”

Cannon turns it over and Tito tears the envelope open, eyes the content, then gestures at his friend. “Start the truck,” he orders.

“Where is she?” I ask, losing it.

“The address is written on a piece of paper taped on the roof of the pavilion,” he says. “Don’t make a move until we drive away.”

He walks backward at first, grinning. Then he turns and makes a run for his vehicle. As the truck drives away, Cannon is the first to pull himself up and scramble to the top of the shelter.

“Got it!” he shouts and hops down with a piece of paper in his hand. “Sonofabitch,” he says. “She’s in a warehouse on the west side of Shreveport.”

We rush to our bikes and I make a quick call to Tonsils, letting him know where we’re going.

As we fly down the highway, doing a hundred in a fifty-five-mile zone, all I think about is finding her dead. How will I live without her again? I try to shake the fear off, letting what shreds of hope remain inside my heart. It’s not working. The lines in the center of the road fade in and out as I envision her death—hear her cry out in pain.

We park half a mile away from the building and walk the rest of the way. This part of Shreveport is all industrial buildings, half of them abandoned after the financial collapse a few years ago. As we walk, a compact car zips by, but we don’t see anyone else around.

The building where Angel is allegedly being held is surrounded by a chain-link fence with barbed wire across the top. There are holes in the fencing, though, and the exterior of the warehouse is dilapidated. I spot two Harleys parked along the side of the building. I motion for Cannon and Big Jim to surround the structure and await a text message to go inside. Before we make a move, I want to know what we’re facing. I won’t gamble with Angel’s life.

I’d rather die than see a hair on her beautiful head hurt.

Serafina

Bear circles me again and again, taunting me, threatening to rape me. I’m sitting in the middle of the mattress, my knees tucked under my chin, long past the point of crying and begging him to leave me alone.

Last night he personally served my dinner, oatmeal laced with maggots. I took one look in the bowl and threw it against the wall. He laughed and left the cell, leaving me hungry and afraid. Then, early in the morning, he offered me a stale granola bar, which I greedily took and devoured. Now he wants to collect payment for giving me something safe to eat.

“Pull your pants down and show me that pussy,” he says.

I shake my head.

“Want me to do it for you?”

I glare at him, knowing he doesn’t make empty threats. “Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth?” I ask.

He rakes his fingers through his greasy hair. “I don’t kiss my mama, but I do plenty of things to her.”

The long-awaited confession. Yeah, I know, asshole.

He slinks closer, obviously turned on by the idea of taking me by force. Only after it reaches a certain point will I break down and tell him who I really am. I’d rather get beaten to death or shot than have his hands on my body again. Even Bear isn’t capable of incest—I hope.

“Look at those perfect tits,” he comments, kneeling on the end of the pallet, just out of my reach. “I want to suck those nipples and stick my fingers inside you.”

Every time he says something like that, a part of me dies inside. Please God. Send Eagle. Send anyone. I’m willing to fuck my way to freedom if I have to, just not with my insane brother. Let one of the other Dead Dogs claim me.

He grabs my ankle and yanks so hard I fall back. As he climbs up my body, I club the side of his face with my hands. It doesn’t do anything to dissuade him. In fact, violence turns him on more. He straddles my hips and holds my hands over my head with one hand and lifts my bra with the other, ogling my exposed flesh.

“Fucking beautiful,” he says, dipping down to taste me.

Just as I’m about to scream out that I’m Angel, someone comes into the room.

“Evander!” a woman’s voice sounds, using my brother’s real name.

Bear freezes and his face flushes, like he’s heard the voice of a ghost.

I lift my head, fighting to break free from his grasp. “Let me go, goddamnit!”

I hear a click and that’s when Bear releases me, rolling off of my body, and turning around.

My mother is standing just inside the doorway with a gun pointed at her only son. I gasp and cry out to her. “Mom . . . please.”

“Angelique?” she asks, slowly coming closer. “I didn’t believe it. Someone called me and told me my daughter was alive and gave me this address and I just knew I had to come. Hold on for a minute longer, baby.” She frowns at Bear, her handgun still pointed at his chest. “All your life you’ve been nothing but trouble—a curse to anyone who had the misfortune of meeting you. I tried, Lord knows. Tried to love you, tried to set you on the right path.”

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Bear finally breaks his silence. “And why did you call that bitch Angelique?” He looks at me, hatred in his eyes.

“Why, Evander? Why did you and your brother get your father killed? Why did you target your only sister? Get me addicted to drugs? Destroy our family?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, still confused by the idea of me being Angel. “We were never a family,” he spits. “And that bitch isn’t my sister.” He climbs to his feet and staggers in my direction. “Angel didn’t look like that.”

“Get away from her,” Mom commands, waving her gun. “Now.”

He laughs. “What are you going to do, shoot me?” He keeps coming and that’s when the pop-pop sound echoes in the room.

I scream and everything goes black.