Chapter Thirty Five
Both of us stared down the barrel of the handgun that held us in its sights only six feet away. How’d he get in here? I hadn’t heard the door. Hadn’t heard a fight.
Chase reached in front of me, pushing me behind him, his back concealing my bare breasts from the blond man with the gun.
“Ain’t this cute?” His voice sounded deadly in the room, the Geordie undertone underneath a muddled accent.
“You were in my shop,” Chase said, his words deep and dangerous, and if this wasn’t as fucked up as it was, they would have melted me completely.
“Nice bikes you had. Shame.”
“Shame?”
“Aye. Place burned down the other night.” Chase’s fingers tightened round the covers. “Not my doing though. Your own brothers, from what I could see. So, don’t want to spoil the party here, but you’re gonna need to get up and get dressed. Both of you.”
“Not happening, V. Not at fucking gunpoint.”
Chase’s head snapped towards me. Shock making his hazel eyes swirl.
“You know him?”
I glanced back at the man holding the gun, his long blond hair pulled into a ponytail, a body of tattoos covered by the all black leather racing suit.
“The Viking.”
“He’s a King?”
“Not anymore,” I continued. “The club exiled him years ago.”
“Then why’s he here?”
“I still do some odd jobs for the club,” the Viking smiled as he spoke. “I’m good at odd jobs.”
“What happens if I come with you, V?”
“You go home, kiddo. Simple as.”
“And Chase?”
The Viking smiled but said nothing.
“Not coming then. Tell Fury you’ve seen me and I’m safe now.”
“Nah. Not gonna happen, kiddo. You’re both coming with me.”
“The fuck we are.” Chase growled, pushing up from the bed.
V’s gun moved to him, his eyes narrowing, black leather moving closer.
“Don’t fucking move, fella, or I will put a bullet in you. It’s my favourite fucking thing to do. Ask her.”
He cocked his head towards me. Chase turned his head, his eyes never leaving the Viking, and the gun trained on his face.
“He’s a hitman.” I sighed.
Chase said nothing, just stared.
“Look. V there’s two of us. And I’m guessing your orders from Indie weren’t to kill, either of us. So, we’ve got a fucking situation here, ‘cos I’m not coming with you.”
“You know me, Jazz. Always prepared.”
He moved, reaching for something strapped to his thigh.
Another gun, but this one looked different.
Bulkier through the barrel, longer at the nose.
Not sleek like the handgun still aimed at Chase’s face, but heavier, almost clumsy looking.
The metal wasn’t black, but a dull graphite grey, with a small glass vial slotted beneath the chamber, something viscous glinting inside it.
My stomach dropped. It wasn’t a bullet gun at all.
*****
Consciousness came back in fragments. Sound first, muffled and far away.
Music. Was that what I could hear? Or a hoover?
Then light, too bright and stabbing through my skull.
My body felt wrong, like I was the wrong way round.
My arms wouldn’t move, too heavy. My tongue was a lump of rubber.
The side of my neck burned. And then I remembered.
My pulse stuttered; my body did not keep up. The more I tried to move, the heavier I got. Panic clawed at me, dragging me awake inch by inch until the world finally sharpened, and I wished it hadn’t, bile threatening at the back of my throat.
The room was lit with soft light, casting gentle shadows around the room.
A room I had decorated. Cool white walls and one block of deep, dark green on the side where the old iron fireplace stood.
Fake candles flickered in the grate. My room.
It had been Fury’s when he’d lived at home, but now it was mine.
I lay looking at the ceiling. The bed was soft. Comfy. Familiar. Mine. But it was empty, and my stomach tensed, an overpowering sense of dread exploding in my body. Chase. Fuck, Chase.
I flung my feet out of bed, and for a second everything was ok, but then the room tilted violently, and I fell back against the thick, plump pillows.
And now it spun. Round and round and round, like I’d had too much to drink.
Closing my eyes, I tried to black out the feeling, concentrate on something else.
The Viking. The gun in his hand. Fuck. Fuck.
I had to find where they’d taken Chase. I had to get there before it was too late.
The side of my neck ached, my fingers touching over the spot, a little bump. A bruise, I could feel the aching sensation developing. Fuck’s sake, V. It had fucking hurt. And then everything had gone black, like someone had just pulled the plug. Poof.
Slowly this time, I guided a leg out, my eyes catching on the fluffy bunny fucking fleece pyjamas I had on.
They’d tortured me. This was torture. Maybe even worse than hanging on a fucking hook.
My legs shook as I rose onto them, the instructions not quite getting to my brain that they needed to move.
And then that smell. A thick, homely mix of fried onions, corned beef, bacon, and soft, stewing potatoes.
A smell that belonged to a cold winter evening and hand-me-down jumpers, the sort that filled your chest and made you ache a bit, even if you didn’t know why.
Comfort, with a layer of grease. Panackelty. Home.
“Jazz. Oh, Jasmin,” Mam’s voice rang shrill through my sluggish brain as I stepped into the kitchen.
She wiped her hands down the front of her apron and scuttled across the kitchen on short legs, wrapping her arms around me.
“I thought we’d lost you. I thought I’d lost another baby.” She hugged me tight, deceptively strong arms holding onto me, like she would never let go again.
Her face was wet with tears when she pulled back, glistening track marks showing. I was pleased to see her. I really was. But I felt numb. Weird. The tranquilliser that the Viking shot me with must have dulled everything.
Soft hands cradled my face, her eyes roaming over the bruises and the splits in my skin.
“My poor baby. Look at the state of you. Don’t you worry. Fury will make them pay. All of them.”
“No. Mam. Where’s Chase?”
“The man who took you?”
“Yes. No. Not exactly.”
“You never have to worry about him again. Grays always get revenge. He’ll never come after you again.”
“No,” I whispered. “No. No. No.”
“Jazz. Baby. I don’t understand.”
“Where have they got him, mam?”
“You know I don’t know. That’s club business.”
“And you know I know that’s full of shit.”
“Jasmin Athena Gray. If your dad could hear you speaking to me like that…”
“Dad isn’t here, Mam.”
“And if he was that Rat wouldn’t have made it out of Middlesbrough with his insides still in his body.
And there would have been bodies in the streets while they were looking for you.
That’s what Indie and Fury should have done.
Taken everyone out rather than running up and down the north east trying to figure out who had you. ”
Her tears were flowing again, cascading down a face red with anger.
“Chase didn’t hurt me, mam. He rescued me. He stopped them raping me. He stopped Grim taking me.”
“Didn’t stop them doing that to your back though, did he?”
Mam’s anger was rising. I could see it on her face. My father had been hard. He’d done what he needed to do. But our anger issues came from Mamma Dot. It was her temper me and Fury had inherited. Jake seemed to have escaped the temper and the club.
“Chase didn’t do any of this. He took out his own club to get me free. They’ll kill him if he goes back.”
“And the Kings will kill him for what he has done to you. To the club.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I whispered the words like they were burning my tongue. “For what he’d done to the Kings. Not me. It’s all about the club. No wonder Jake left.”
“Jasmin,” Mam sounded surprised.
“Tell me where they have him, Mam.”
“You know where he’ll be.”
I nodded, grabbing Fury’s spare bike keys from the hook just inside the kitchen door.
By the time I was down the stairs again, my spare helmet in my hands, and an old black bike suit over the jeans I’d thrown on to replace the horrendous pyjamas someone, Mam I hoped, had dressed me in, she was standing in the hallway waiting for me. Her broad frame blocked my escape route.
“Out of my way, Mam.”
“Jazz, wait.”
“No. Get out of my way.”
She held something up, silver catching in the lights.
“Your bike keys.”
“My bike?”
“It’s in the garage out back. Fury fixed it for you. There’s a couple of scratches, but it’s virtually brand new.”
I stopped my charge from the house, a ball swelling in my throat.
“He knew we’d get you back. He wanted your bike up and working so you could get straight back on it when they got you.”
My eyes prickled, and I chewed hard on my lip.
“Thanks,” I whispered, hooking the keys from her.
“Jazz?” she called out as I spun on my heel and headed for the back door. “Please don’t steal Fury’s bike. It was your Dad’s.”
“I know, Mam. I was only going to borrow it. Don’t need to now though.”
She nodded, the movement of her head under the hallway lights catching on the tears. I smiled weakly, knowing that I what I was about to do would make her cry even harder.
Fuck if I didn’t feel like absolute shit.