CHAPTER EIGHT

– DEANNA –

“Why are we in here?” Lyla grumbles. “You know Heath and Hayden are going to ream Pax’s asshole, right?”

“Can you blame them?” I challenge.

Her shoulders sag and she drags a chair back to sit on it. Lee is leaning against the wall and stares at us while my sister and I also take a seat at the table. We’re in the breakroom of the tattoo shop, waiting for Heath, Hayden, and Pax to sort out the Tar Lines asshole Pax caught.

“He was just keeping an eye on me,” Lyla grumbles. “I knew he was there, it’s why I left Lee at the diner while I went to the shop early. Hell, Lee over there knew it too or he wouldn’t have let me walk over to the tattoo shop by myself. When I got to the shop, though? That’s when everything went to shit. The alarm was off, the front door wasn’t electronically locked, I’m pretty sure the biker was going to hide in here and…I don’t know, grab me? They should be thanking Pax for grabbing the asshole before he could kidnap me, or do whatever he was meant to do.”

The alarm was off, and the door was unlocked? I let my gaze find Lee’s, there’s a frown on his face and it makes me ask, “Did you know the alarm was off?”

“First I’m hearing it.” Lee pushes himself away from the wall, grabs his phone and jabs the screen before he brings it to his ear. “It’s Lee. Lyla mentioned the–”

One fragment of a second can go by in the blink of an eye, however, in this moment it’s as if that very second gets dragged out into a long sequence of nanoseconds dragging by in slow-motion. I hear a soft pop, Lee’s head takes the impact of a bullet I now realize was fired through a silencer, and then there’s blood. Lyla screams and I reach for my gun too late when I see Loco appear behind Lee as he crumbles onto the floor.

Loco’s aim is on Lyla’s head. “Well, well, well. I drop in to take my sister and I get a bonus copy for free along with it. Nice surprise.”

I slowly move my hand to palm my gun.

“Don’t,” Loco snarls. “I’ll kill this cunt right here ’cause I don’t give a fuck who she is, just like this one here.”

Loco drops his aim and fires off another soft pop, the bullet enters Lee’s leg and he doesn’t even give a twitch. A sob rips from Lyla, and my heart hurts for her.

“Gaston, knock ’em out,” Loco rumbles and another biker with the same patch on his leather bike appears from behind him. “The twins, not the spare cunt we’re bringing along for any brother who wants fresh hole to fuck.”

I try to fight him but when Loco’s gun moves to Lyla’s head I decide to bide my time and strike when it’s just my life on the line. I hiss when I feel a pinch in my arm and try to whirl around. My body feels as if I’m moving through mud. Darkness sets in and I try to keep focus when Loco’s sadistic grin enters my vision before everything goes dark.

I groan when I slowly wake.

Blinking a few times, I try to gain a clear vison. My mouth feels and tastes as if something died in there and then the realization hits of what happened. Loco shot Lee and kidnapped me. Us? I glance around and notice Bran and Lyla, both tied by their wrists and ankles. Shifting, I feel the same limitation on my own body and glance down to check.

Dammit, my hands and feet are also bound. I take in my surroundings, and it seems as if we’re locked in a shed. The walls are wood and there’s no window. The floor is sandy and there’s no bed or anything else, just the three of us.

The horrible smell of piss assaults my nose and it takes everything inside me not to gag. Rolling over, I scoot in the direction of my sister and nudge her knee with mine.

“Bran. Bran, wake up,” I urge on a whisper.

Tilting my head, I glance at Lyla. She has a bruise on the side of her head and a split lip. Did they hit her?

“Lyla,” I hiss and worm myself in her direction. “Lyla, wake up.”

She groans and blinks a few times.

“That’s it, give me your eyes. Did they drug you too or knock you out?” I ask.

Lyla rolls to her back and croaks, “I played the scared female. They only had two syringes. I guess they were only counting on you and me, or only you and Bran. Anyway, that fucker with the gun, Loco? He smacked my face and I crumbled to the ground. When he put away his gun and that other fucker was trying to tie me up is when I started kicking ass. I would have knocked them both out if it wasn’t for Lee.”

“Lee?” I swallow hard at the reminder of seeing his lifeless body on the floor.

“He groaned and my attention was drawn to him for a split second. Wrong move, clearly because we ended up in here anyway.” She closes her eyes and huffs out a breath.

I’m almost afraid to ask, and I’m not sure if she even knows, but I’m unable to bite back the words that fall from my lips. “Do you think Lee is still alive?”

“I don’t know,” she replies with a broken voice.

Swallowing hard, I firm my voice and tell her, “Let’s hope for the best. I’m sure Heath and Hayden found Lee and brought him to the hospital.”

In an effort to distract myself from the thought of Lee dying, I glance down at my wrists. First thing I need to do is free my hands, because getting the fuck out of here is high on my to-do list. Ignoring my headache, I lift myself up by getting on all fours and then balance the shit out of myself to get to my feet.

The zip tie around my wrists is tight, but I bring the end to my mouth anyway to tighten it some more.

“Oh, smart,” Lyla murmurs and shuffles to get to her feet too.

I take a deep breath and swing my arms up before bringing them down fast, letting my elbows slide by my side. The zip tie snaps due to the force of trying to spread my wrists onto my belly. Now, to get my legs free is a bit harder.

I frown and try to remember the things my father taught us. Something about tying shoelaces around it and move your feet like you’re riding a bicycle. Shitty time to wear boots. Again, I tighten the zip tie and try to squat, forcing my ankles to part and thank fuck that works.

Lyla is still working on getting her ankles free when I rush over to Bran. I take her face in my hands and whisper her name. Her eyes flutter open and she groans. Bran’s body shivers and when she gags, I quickly turn her head to prevent her from choking on her own puke.

“Fuck, is she okay?” Lyla questions and snaps Bran’s zip ties off by using a nail clipper.

A question I don’t want to answer or think about until we’ve escaped. Earlier today Bran and I were discussing the probability of pregnancy. Hell, Lyla was the one who brought the pregnancy test over. Shit. What did they give us to knock us out? Would it harm the fetus if she is in fact pregnant? Am I pregnant? Yeah, I need to shove those thoughts and worries down deep and focus on one thing at a time.

“Where did you get that?” I whisper.

Lyla shrugs. “Tiny pocket of my jeans. They must have missed it when they grabbed my phone, keys, gun, and knives.”

I shake my head. “A gun, and a knife? Why were you even carrying a nail clipper?”

“We have a stray cat coming into the shop and I wanted to cut her nails,” Lyla muses.

Bran groans and rubs her face with her now free hands.

“Stay with her,” I tell Lyla and whip my head around to take a look at the place we’re being held in.

I don’t simply look but carefully take in every inch. We’re in a wooden shed, like a garden shed, that’s been sitting in a backyard for decades. There are some small cracks between the boards and I rush over to glance through them.

This side is dark and I catch an orange, flickering glow from the right side. Moving to the other wall, I find a crack and glance through. There are several fire pits and about fifteen or twenty men are standing around them, drinking beer and smoking.

Okay, we’re definitely not slipping away through this side. Moving to the wall across from me, I glance through two wooden planes and find complete darkness. I cup my hands to shield the left and right side of my face and blink a few times to let the darkness settle. I can see a dark gray outline of trees. Taking a few steps back I stare at the wood and notice the bottom is a bit fragile.

Pointing at it, I state, “This is our way out. Lyla, I need you to look through the crack on that side of the wall and keep an eye on those fuckers, okay?” My gaze shifts to my twin. “Are you okay?”

Bran shifts into a sitting position. “Ready when you are.”

Yeah, right. I give her a tight nod and a smile, but we both know she’s too sick to make a run for it. We don’t cower, though. Never. Both raised by a father who trained fighters it’s ingrained in our blood to fight till the end. The end meaning oblivion.

Turning to face the wall, I get down on my ass, place both feet against the wood that looks fragile and ask, “How’s it looking, Lyla?”

“Like they’re working on their beer bellies,” she replies.

Bringing my knees to my nose, I brace myself and kick my legs out as hard as I can. They hit the wood and give a slight crack.

“And now?” I ask.

“Only one of them turned his head in this direction. Wait…oh, he’s smoking and another fucker is talking to him. Yes, we’re good,” Lyla updates.

We repeat the action four more times, and I finally manage to crack two boards, enough room to worm ourselves through.

“Let’s go,” I grit and rush to Bran, helping her to the exit I made. “Lyla, you go first.”

Lyla goes through and we both help Bran slip out. I follow last and then tiptoe to the corner of the shed to look around it. The bikers are still talking, drinking, and smoking. Focusing on the bushes and trees again, which seems to be the only exit for us because we can hardly make a run for it in plain sight, I take in the fence with barbed wire hiding between the leaves and branches.

I shrug my jacket off and throw it over the barbed wire. Without a word Lyla goes over first and we help Bran again who is slowly getting back to reality. And what a fucking reality it is. I’m about to climb over when we hear voices coming closer.

“Move,” I hiss. “You two get the fuck out of here and get help. I’m right behind you but I’ll distract them if necessary.” I know they’re going to fight me on this so I add, “We need help and getting caught again won’t be any fucking help, now go.”

Lyla grabs Bran’s arm and throws it around her neck. They start running into the thick forest. I jump over the fence and I turn to grab my jacket, not wanting to leave a hint for those fuckers, when I unfortunately snag my finger on the barbed wire.

I grit my teeth and turn to run when I hear loud cursing followed by a bellow, “The cunts are gone.”

Shit. I wanted a bigger head start, but I guess there’s no choice in the matter. Pushing my feet as hard as I can, I pick up speed and hope to run off in the same direction as Lyla and Bran. I hear branches snap in front of me and I move slightly to the right to follow in that direction.

I might be in great condition physically, but I guess whatever they knocked me out with is still tainting my veins because I feel like I need to puke. Not only that, but my lungs are burning and I’m damn tired.

Up ahead I hear the sound of cars and through the trees and bushes I can see the headlights. Behind me I can hear shouting and the snapping of twigs. Apparently Loco and the rest of Tar Lines is right behind me.

Relief hits my chest when I watch as Lyla manages to stop a car. A woman gets out and helps Bran into her car. I rush down toward the road and am about to call out when there’s a sharp pain between my shoulder blades, making me tumble forward. Lyla whips her head in my direction and there’s only one option for all of us.

“Gooooo,” I scream.

The sound of a gunshot cracks through the air and the back window of the car shatters into a million pieces. Lyla jumps into the car and the vehicle speeds off. Thank fuck. At least they managed to get away. My scalp burns with pain when someone yanks of a fistful of my hair. I feel something cold and hard press against the side of my head.

“Don’t move, bitch,” Loco snarls. “You’re not going anywhere. I couldn’t care less about those other two cunts, you’re the one I want.”

There’s no chance for a reply or to even think about doing anything when pain bursts through my skull, darkness swallowing me whole once again.

I awake with a jolt, sputtering against the cold water hitting my face. Another bucket of ice water hits me just as I gasp for air, making me swallow some of it. I cough and slam one hand on my chest and wipe my face with the other.

“Wake the fuck up, cunt.” Loco’s harsh voice has me on high alert.

He throws the empty bucket onto the tiled floor and crosses his arms in front of his chest while he grins down on me with a sinister look on his face. I can’t believe we share the same DNA. How can people be born from the same parents and have such a different character? Upbringing, environment, traumatic events, what-the-fuck-ever. Deep down there should be some common ground, a hint of humanity. Right?

Well, I can tell by looking into Loco’s eyes the man is true to his name; completely crazy.

“If I was into fucking unconscious women, it wouldn’t make a difference what cunt I shove my cock in. So, wake up and give me some action.” He shrugs off his leather cut and throws it on the floor. “I saw you fighting a guy twice your size, let’s see what you got when you’re fighting me.”

From what I’ve seen in Heath and Hayden’s club, they treat their cut with respect. Okay, Tar Lines is very fucking different than Areion Fury, or Broken Deeds for that matter, but come on, don’t these guys have any respect?

I mentally cringe realizing the man sliding his belt free from the loops of his jeans kidnapped me to turn me into his private whore. His own flesh and blood sister. Yeah, respect is not something this man has in his vocabulary.

“Stop,” I snarl when he drags his shirt over his head and is left in just his jeans and his boots.

There’s no fucking way I’m going to let this man get his hands on me. I’d rather die fighting than have this man, my brother by blood, turn me into a whore.

“There’s the feisty cunt I know you are. The first time I saw you in the ring, easily knocking your opponent down who was twice your size, you made my cock harder than granite.” He licks his bottom lip. “Didn’t even see your face. I laid claim right then and there. Then Prez and I saw your face. You look like her, you know. Well, the way she used to look ’cause Prez liked to use his knives when he fucked.”

My mother. He’s talking about the person who gave us life as if she doesn’t matter at all to him. All this time we thought she left us while the reality is too heartbreaking to comprehend. What kind of hell did she endure until she died? I put an instant stop to that thought because I need to remain focused or I’ll end up the same way.

“You’re disgusting,” I growl. “Talking about your own mother that way. Not to mention, I’m your sister by blood.”

“So?” Loco spits. “Do you think it makes your cunt special? Not to me it doesn’t. It’s not like I plan to knock you up. I fuckin’ hate kids, and if I didn’t? Well, I guess we’d make a superior offspring.”

Superior? This idiot lacks brain cells for sure.

“Genetic disorders, you stupid fuck,” I mutter and let my gaze quickly slide over the room.

He shrugs as if the insanity of it all is something to ignore, and turns on loud music, cracking his head left and right as if he’s getting ready to fight. I curl my fingers into tight fists and slowly slide off the bed. There’s no way I’m going to stay on there. He has to kill me first, or knock me unconscious. A hint of panic slips through me how he’s managed to throw me into darkness twice already.

No damn way will the third time be the charm.

“I’m going to kill you,” I vow loud and clear over the loud music and hear the truth in my own voice. And an afterthought echoes through the back of my head, “Or die trying.”