Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Serena

Idon’t like pissing on the ground. Never did. Least of all with a kidnapping thug watching over me. Still, it was piss on the ground or all over myself, so I tried to be quick about it.

“Bathroom break’s over,” he announces. Pulling me down the steps and into the warm, late afternoon air, he mumbled something about how he regretted taking this job. I didn’t like the way this man looked at me, like he could devour me, or thrown me down and fuck me for hours.

“Stop looking at me that way,” I say weakly. I want him to realize that I know where his mind is right now.

“Like fucking what?” He counters angrily.

“Just take your hands off me and stay back.”

The skinny guy in the driver’s seat hangs his head out the window and smirks at me. “Afraid he’s going to have his way with you? No need to be afraid of that. Your boyfriend has already made it abundantly clear that he doesn’t pay for damaged goods. A dirty fuck with you ain’t worth the kind of money we’re getting paid to deliver you unblemished.”

I refuse to look at him, because he’s a piece of shit, both of them are. I’m so angry that Stan managed to get to me in the end, no matter how careful I was. I fold my arms over my stomach and ignore both of them.

Jerking open the passenger side of the van, he waits while I climb in. I feel my heart pounding in my chest. I’m terrified but fighting hard not to show it because the driver seems to be getting off on it. He puts a restraint around one leg and locks it to the bottom of the seat. I yelp when he gets it too tight. He takes a second to loosen it, but only slightly. “Is that better?”

I nod curtly and turn to stare out the window because I need to get my head together and figure out a way out of this mess.

The driver taunts me, “What’s wrong? Does the pretty little bitch have nothing to say?”

The tattooed guy gets into the front passenger seat and slams the door closed. “Leave the fucking girl alone and drive.”

Without another word, the smaller man complies. I can tell by his body language he’s scared of the bigger guy. I think they must be professionals because they’re careful about taking back roads, using restraints, and not blurting out each other’s names.

When the tattooed man glances back at me again, I worry that he won’t keep his hands to himself. He’s staring at my breasts, even as he tries to wrangle his lust under control. As we drive away, I look around, trying my best to figure out where we are at the moment. We’re so far out of town that I don’t recognize anything. The first van had the windows blacked out, but an hour or two ago my captors stopped at a service station to switch vehicles. This one is more like the kind of minibus that takes tourists on luxury camping vacations, but I know there’s nothing luxurious about what these bastards have planned for me. I’d pleaded to be allowed out to go to the restroom, partly because I really needed to go, and partly because I saw it as my only chance of escape—but they wouldn’t let me out of their sight. He only gave in just now, because I think he legitimately thought I was going to piss over the upholstery.

“You’re working for Stan, aren’t you? If he wanted me so badly, he should come himself.”

Mr. Tatts responds in a calm tone, “He had other things to attend to.”

Mr. Skin and Bones chimes in, “Don’t worry, you’ll be in his loving embrace shortly.”

We ride in silence as I ponder the day’s events. I don’t ask them who they are because it’s fairly clear that preserving their anonymity gives them one less reason to put a bullet in my head.

I’m just so angry and shocked that I sit in my seat with my arms wrapped around my waist and trembling. I quietly test the restraint on my ankle, wondering if might come loose easily, it’s not a zip tie which is something, but it’s firmly attached, so I can’t run even if the opportunity presents itself. I try and count my blessings, but there are precious few—I’m still alive, and they took that piece of tape from my mouth. That’s about it.

This can’t be happening to me. It’s blowing my mind that after everything I’ve been through, I’m going to end up right back where I started, in the clutches of my abusive ex-boyfriend.

Mr. Tatts notices me quietly freaking out and decides to give me a word of advice. “Look, life can be shitty, particularly to women. You’re gonna have to toughen up if you want to survive what’s coming. This boyfriend of yours is a nasty piece of work.”

“Yeah, I know. We’ve had this dance before. Can you two help me escape?” I stammer, promising, “I can pay you more than he is.”

He shoots me an irritated look. “It’s not always about the money. Men in my line of work don’t double-cross our employers. It’s simply not done.”

Mr. Skin and Bones adds, “We might be guns for hire, but we don’t turn on our clients.”

Mr. Tatts reaches into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulls out a cell phone. Within seconds he’s on the phone with said employer.

My brutish captor states, “Stanford Scott, your package is fifteen minutes from delivery.”

I can hear Stan’s voice reply, “I managed to secure the cash you wanted.” Or I think that’s what he said. Tatts turns his head sharply at the mention of cash and I can barely hear Stan’s half of the conversation after that.

“For future reference, you will have the cash in advance. You’ve wasted time we didn’t have making a cash run.” My abductor cuts the line and shoves the phone back into his pocket.

“So, what happens now?” I hate the way my voice sounds small and weak. I know all too well that when you act vulnerable around predators, they start seeing you as prey.

Without looking at me, Mr. Tatts replies, “We’re taking you to a predetermined location. Stan will be there with our money. We’ll make the trade, and you’ll be at his mercy after that.”

Mr. Skin and Bones cackles, “You’ll need to make all his fantasies come true or you’ll die screaming just like your friend.”

“Shut the fuck up. How many times do I have to tell you not to mention former jobs.”

Oh, my God. They’re talking about Gina. I can’t believe he came right out and admitted they were involved in her death.

“How do you know that’s what Stan wants from me?” I ask cautiously.

Mr. Skin and Bones smirks at me again. “Getting down with you is all the man has talked about for weeks.”

“I don’t know what he’s paying you, but I’ll pay you more, double it. Please let me go.”

Mr. Tatts responds harshly, “I already told you that isn’t going to happen. If you make it out of this situation alive it’ll be a miracle.”

Why did this guy have to be so damn theatrical? It almost feels like he’s been a hardened criminal for so long he’s lacking in emotions. Or maybe he ended up in this kind of work because his emotional shortcomings ensure he doesn’t feel bad about the evil shit he does.

“Where are you taking me?” I try to put a little courage in my voice, hoping they’ll answer the question I most want to know the answer to.

The brutish one glances back from the passenger seat and says, “You’ll know when we get there. Now, shut the fuck up, bitch.”

My mouth snaps shut as the van drifts from primary roads to secondary roads to one lane roads that appear to lead to nowhere.

Finally, I can see several dark SUVs parked at the mouth of an old-fashioned, covered bridge. Having paid attention to our route since the toilet stop and vehicle change, I can vouch for the fact that there was nothing for miles in every direction. They pull into the covered bridge and the muscle-bound abductor gets out of the van and steps back to the side and slides the van door open. Stan walks over to peer inside. These thugs look like they haven’t bathed in a few days while Stan is wearing an expensive suit and carrying a briefcase. The guy has been AWOL for weeks, and still he manages to look like he’s ready for court.

“You were sent to do a job,” Stan says angrily. “You managed to do half of it.”

Mr. Tatts responds, “Your exact words were to snatch the girl, and make an example out of the biker. I clearly did that by stealing his woman right out from under his nose. His club brothers are probably making him the butt of every joke about now.”

“Humiliating him is not enough,” Stan grinds out. “I wanted him fucking dead.”

“Then you should have said that explicitly,” the man replies blandly.

A sick feeling churns in the pit of my stomach when it becomes clear that Stan wanted Smoke dead. Pushing down the panic, I force myself to sit quietly in the van seat, rather than howl like a wild beast. I’d never seen Stan acting like this before. He’d never been this unhinged on his wildest day. I could hear everything because they were standing four feet away talking like I wasn’t even there.

“Well, you can hand Serena over now, but I won’t pay until you finish the job that I hired you to do.”

“Why should I give you anything when you’re withholding the payment?” Tatts replies.

“She’s mine. I thought you understood that part,” Stan flings back hotly.

“I ain’t your little errand boy, Mr. Scott. Pay for the job or don’t pay for the job, just as it suits you. But don’t think for a goddamned minute that I’m going hand over the girl or run off and do another job before you even pay me for this one. I work for cold hard cash, not promises, you shifty bastard.”

“This was an important and very specific job I hired you for. There was no room for any misunderstandings.”

“Then you should have put it in writing. I don’t appreciate the deal changing when it comes time to close.”

My horrible ex rages, “This is goddamned unprofessional. Are you really going to rip a mutually beneficial working relationship to shreds over a minor disagreement? I don’t see how that’s in either of our best interests.”

“Since you apparently have no intention of paying, the girl stays with me. Now get the fuck out of my face,” Tatts says, as he makes to shut the van door.

“Wait,” Stan says, sounding annoyed. “I’ll fucking pay, but you have to give me something for collateral…something like your guns and cell phones.”

Rolling his eyes, Tatts pulls out his gun and slams it down on the dashboard of the van with a thud. Next, he takes his smart phone and a backup burner phone out of his pocket, waves them in the air and places them beside his gun. Glaring at my ex, Tatts crosses his arms over his chest. “So, you take all my weapons and electronics. Remind me again what you want in terms of finishing this job, fucking city slicker?”

Stan’s face falls when he realizes his mistake.

“I can’t very well run off and kill a fucker for you with no weapons, can I?”

“I’m not paying you before you do what you said you were going to do, and I’m not allowing you to walk out of here with Serena.”

“You’re getting tedious. I can just call the whole thing off and sell the bitch to someone else.”

“She’s my bitch, so no selling her,” Stan states stubbornly.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Mr. Tatts says as he rubs his jawline. “If you pay twenty-five percent tonight, I’ll lock her up in your wilderness cabin you keep bragging about, where you can visit her all you want, but you don’t get to take her home, and we’re not leaving until we’ve been paid in full. We’ll get her settled, and then I’ll head back to Las Salinas and finish the job.”

Stan’s eyes light up. “I agree to that plan,” he says in a relieved voice. “My security team will show you the way. They’ve been with my family a long time, so leave them the fuck alone. They’re just there to protect my property. I’ll be along shortly.”

I lean back in my seat, while they talk back and forth about my fate. So, Stan wants me at his home? I wonder if they mean the place we shared in San Francisco. That would be crazy and the first place anyone would look. But then I remember that my ex is a wealthy man, his family probably has property all over the state. Another thought crosses my mind, if he wanted me dead then he would just do it, so what were his plans for me? Did he want to hold me captive as some kind of sex slave? A shudder went through me at that thought, but it gave rise to another idea—if he wasn’t gonna kill me outright, then that meant I had a chance of escape?

I wondered if Smoke and my brother knew I was missing yet. I had been due at court earlier today and surely by now someone would have raised the alarm. Though what good that would do I wasn’t sure, my purse had been thrown out of the van before they drove off, so no one had any way of tracking me down.

“Since the little bitch filed a protective order against me, I need show my face in public, so I have an alibi. Then the cops can rule me out of their investigation.”

“Yeah,” Tatts says, “That protective order puts you at the top of the list of people who might want her dead.”

Stan flashes him an evil grin. “All things in due course, my friend. There are some uses for her alive, at least until she gets boring.”

So, he wants both Smoke and me dead. Oh, happy fucking days, I think to myself.

The smile drops from Stan’s face and his voice turns weirdly possessive. “She’s still technically mine. So, that means no touching the goods.”

Tatts responds menacingly, “Fine. Just remember, I don’t work for free. That means if I don’t wind up getting paid, you become my next hit.”

Stan frowns at him. “Now, you’re being an asshole for no reason.” He reaches into his briefcase, takes out several banded bundles of cash, and hands them off to Tatts. “Take her and go straight to my cabin. No stops for anything other than gas. The minute you get here there, I want her chained and quiet. When the biker’s murder hits the news, I’ll transfer you the payment in full.”

The big brute looks pleased with his hard-won negotiation. As for me, I don’t look at Stan or yell at him or do anything that might make him more fixated on me than he already is.

When Mr. Tatts picks up his gear and slams the van door, there is a moment when our eyes meet, and I see the darkness of his soul. In that moment I think he’s going to kill us all, even his skinny sidekick.

When he climbs into the passenger side again, he glances at the driver. “What in the fuck are you waiting for? Back out and follow the SUVs. I don’t like having his security team all over us, but his cabin is the perfect out of the way place for us lay low until we finish the job.”

“Yeah, I hope they have food there, cause I’m fucking starving.”

Tatts just grunts.

I’m panicking on the inside because I’m in way over my head and have absolutely no idea how to get myself out of this situation. I feel a bit like a butterfly pinned to a cork board. Knowing that Stan will be along later to rape me, makes me want to scream with frustration and anger. I can’t believe they’ve talked in front of me like I’m not even here. It’s as if they all see me as toy they can do with as they please. Another horrifying thought enters my mind—maybe it’s like Stan insinuated, they plan to kill me, so it doesn’t matter what I hear. All I can think of is saving my baby. I’ll do anything, say anything to protect our unborn child.

***

Finally, after another hour on the road—or maybe two, as by now I have totally lost track of time—we turn into a side road, and head toward a fancy looking cabin. If anything, it looks more like a small ranch house. I vaguely remember Stan saying something about his family having a country retreat just out of San Francisco and I wonder if this was the place he was talking about. Once we get there, Tatts drags me down to a room in the basement, explaining, “Can’t have you in a room with windows now that you’ve heard what your boyfriend has in store for you.” He clamps a metal shackle around one leg and snaps it shut with a click of finality.

I didn’t have the emotional bandwidth to argue, nor did I think I had it in me to gnaw my own foot off to escape.

Tatts walks over to the far side of the room and pulls out some mechanical parts from his duffle bag and begins to work on something that looks like it could be a bomb. Not that I’ve ever seen one being made in my life, it could be a toaster oven for all I know.

Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Am I going to die?”

Tatts glances at me over his shoulder. “I’m not planning to put a bullet in your head if that’s what you’re thinking. Can’t really vouch for the others though.”

Somehow, I don’t believe him. I think he’s the most dangerous person I’ve ever met in my entire life.

“Who killed my friend, Gina?” I’m absolutely terrified, and only brave enough to ask because I have to know who to identify as her killer, if I ever manage to make it out of this godforsaken situation alive.

His expression turns cagy. “I’ll give you a hint. It’s the last person you would imagine.”

His cryptic response leaves me more anxious than ever. Before Stan alluded to killing me, I would have thought he was the least likely of these three men to be capable of such a thing. Now, between Tatts and Skin and Bones, I think Tatts is clearly more capable of killing, but his skinny partner seems more unhinged.

“I should have known better than to take a job from an Ivy League asshole like Stanford fucking Scott.” His voice was despondent and distant, like he was talking more to himself than to me. “I’d like to wring his scrawny little neck. He’s an uptight prick and irritating as fuck.”

I look down at the chair he has me chained to, it’s bolted to the floor and the whole thing looks ancient. I’m thinking this isn’t their first foray into kidnapping. Maybe Stan and his family have been into shady shit for a long time. Why else would they have mechanisms for chaining people up that are both old fashioned and rusty as hell?

I let Tatts get back to work and try not to aggravate him. My survival depends upon drawing as little notice to myself as possible.

My mind drifts to Smoke. It occurs to me that Tatts wouldn’t be able to pull up in front of Smoke and drag him into a van. Smoke would kick his ass, and snap Skin and Bones in two like a twig. No, they would need to devise a way to kill him from a distance. The image of someone lying in wait with a sniper rifle comes to mind. Then my mind grasps onto a much more likely scenario. Turning my head, I tried to figure out if the device my captor is working on was indeed a bomb. There were no red or blue wires, like in the movies. Something told me it wasn’t exactly a bomb but something else they were going to use to capture or kill Smoke.

Watching him hunched over the table, working away, I realize that I had to figure out a way to escape. Warning Smoke that they are gunning for him, moves to the top of my priority list. I have to either stop them or escape and warn Smoke. Nothing else is an option, especially laying low and pretending to be a good little victim.

I hear a thud and realize Tatts just threw down the tool he was using and is now staring at me. “What are you thinking? Something’s got you twisted up and I want to know what it is?”

Scrambling for anything that sounds benign, I stammer, “I’m worried about my brother, Siege. He probably thinks the worst has happened to me. I feel sorry for him because he thinks it’s his responsibility to save every single person in his orbit.” Looking up into Tatts’ blank face, I can see he doesn’t care what’s worrying me. No, he’s assessing whether or not I’m thinking of escaping.

He says calmly, “I promise you, everything’s going to be alright. When your boyfriend gets here you just have to do what he says. He may be an asshole, but he seems very partial to you. Whether or not you realize it, you’re the one who got away. Unfortunately for you, he’s a rich asshole who can afford to track the women who run away from him. Some ladies might even be flattered that a rich dude went to this kind of trouble to chase them down.”

I felt sick to my stomach as Tatts picked his tool back up and returned to building his little death device. Seriously, I feel like I’m about to throw up. Romancing Stan into wanting to keep me was going to be difficult with Smoke’s baby in my belly.