Hitter’s Hex (Reckless Omens MC Book 2)

Prologue

IZZY

“ O uch. That fall really hurt,” I complain as I hear snickering coming from my right.

“Told ya’ she would fall. Give me my twenty bucks.” I hear my brother laugh.

“Fucker, I knew she was blind; I just didn't think she was stupid, too,” my brother's friend Jamie replies.

I reach up and touch the spot where I hit my head on the table when I went down. I know Hector, my brother, moved it on purpose to make me fall. He does it all the time, thinking it’s funny. He’s always been a sick bastard. Hector learned it from our parents, who were just as bad, if not worse, than him. I hate to say it, but that wreck that took their life was the best thing that could have happened to this world.

I don’t know how I turned out so relatively normal coming of a family of evil, vile people. Well, normal, other than being blind most of my life. Maybe that’s why I am a better person; at least, I like to think of myself as a better person. Maybe it’s because my sight was taken away, and all my other senses were forced to ramp up, but I could sense they were all just—wrong. Or it could be because they were just as cruel to me as everyone but themselves and their ‘perfect baby boy.’

“Now watch. She has to crawl around 'cause she doesn't know what else was moved,” Hector says, making them both laugh. “Clean yourself up, Isabella, and get back to your room.”

I’m hit in the face with a towel, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment as I try to make my way back to my room. I refuse to let my tears fall; it only makes it worse. Hector thinks it's a weakness, so he tries to beat it out of me, just like our parents had. I wish more than anything he had been in that car with them. I hate him so much it burns, but there's nothing I can do now.

When I fell, I was hungry and trying to find a snack in the kitchen. I just need to wait until nighttime when he's gone or asleep, and then I’ll eat. When I get back to my room, I use the towel to clean the blood I can feel dripping down my face. I hate this so much. I can't tell how bad it is. I just have to hope it’s not too deep. I feel woozy and know I shouldn't sleep, but I can’t help it. My stomach is hurting from hunger cramps, and now my head is pounding. What’s the worst that could happen? I die? At this point, I don’t know if that would be such a bad thing.

I wake a few hours later to complete silence. Hector must be gone, and his men are probably in the pool house out back or patrolling. Usually, the kitchen is only guarded by one man at night, and he likes to leave and do… other things with the girls who are always hanging around here. They're just as bad, if not worse, than the men sometimes.

I finally made it to the kitchen without tripping or falling because I gave in and used my cane, which I am not usually allowed to use inside the house because I accidentally hit his highness with it once. I notice Hector moved a lot of stuff around this time, the asshole.

At first, there seems to be nothing abnormal going on, but then I hear it. Just a small sound, but with my heightened senses, I notice it. I make my way over to the kitchen’s far wall beside the table and place my ear against the wall. I hear it again. A woman screaming. I can barely hear what she’s saying, but it sounds like a muffled help.

Something in me snaps. I need to get to her. I feel along the wall with both hands, discarding my cane in my haste, looking for a door I know isn't there. I’ve lived here my whole life, so I know better than most that there is nothing here. I keep feeling along the wall for anything, a door, a crease in the wall, anything.

Then my hands hit a latch. I know it’s pure luck I found it, but I’ll take anything at this point. I pull the door open and feel around to make sure I don’t hit something or trip a silent alarm. I kick out and feel a set of stairs. Slowly, I make my way down, hearing the door close silently behind me.

I continue making my cautious way down the stairs, knowing I need to be quick but not wanting to risk falling and breaking my neck. I can hear the woman’s cries clearly now, and she is unmistakably screaming for help.

“Hello?” I call quietly, my voice shaking.

“Please, help me. You have to get me out of here before they come back.”

“I’m blind. I can’t see anything. I’ll get you out of here, but I need to know what’s in front of me,” I say, reaching my hands out.

“There are two cells right in front of you. I’m in one, and if you turn to your right and take three steps, you will be right in front of her cell. The key is hanging on the stairway wall, right behind you,” a calm male voice says. His tone immediately soothes the agitation that was building inside of me from being in this unfamiliar place. Even though I’ve lived here my whole life, I would have sworn that this part of the house didn’t exist.

I take a deep breath and clear my mind. The unsettling feeling passes, and I can concentrate on my surroundings. My senses pick apart the room reflexively, mapping everything I can in darkness. The air is musty and damp, tickling my nose. I can decipher each breath from the others and pinpoint how close they are to where I’m standing. Just because I’m blind doesn’t mean I can’t help them. If I don’t, I’m condemning them to suffer, and that’s something I cannot abide by.

Determined, I nod, turn around, and trail my hands along the railing. I locate the keys on a hook screwed into the wall just as the man indicated. Grabbing them, I turn back around and take three steps toward the two cells. Taking careful steps, I hold my hand out while I check the area in front of me. I might be slow moving, but I don’t want to take any chances after the fall earlier. The moment I’m within reach, I feel someone snatch the keys out of my hand. The sound of the keys jingling echoes loudly in the room, drowning out any other noises. I sense the girl’s hands shaking as she fumbles to get the key in the lock and open the cell. The door finally swings open, banging against the bars as the girl barrels out, nearly knocking me over. She doesn't wait or think twice as she throws the keys toward me, hearing them clatter to the floor by my feet. I know she is not going to be of any help to me or the other person here. I bend down and pick up the keys, thankful I don’t have to search for them. Now, it’s just up to me to help get this man out.

“You need to leave,” the man says.

“I will, when I get you out,” I tell him, feeling out to see how close I am to his cell door. I’m walking toward where I last heard his voice, trying to figure out why he’s suddenly silent. I finally make it to the door and feel around for the lock. I expect him to take the keys like the girl did, but instead, I feel his hands on mine, stopping me.

“Stop and listen,” he says, and I do. Then I hear it. The girl above us runs through the house while one of the men chases her. We hear her scream, then a shot, and then nothing.

“Run now, sweetheart. Save yourself. Just go,” he tells me again, but I shake my head.

“No, we can leave together. I just need to get you out,” I tell him, but I can hear my brother's men coming closer. They’re at the top of the stairs now.

“Hide under the stairs. I’ll figure out something. Just hide,” the man pleads with me again, but it’s too late. My hands freeze at the voice I hear behind me.

“Ah, baby sister. It figures you’d sympathize with the trash. Well, then you can live in the dumpsters right along with them.”