Taking Over the Dark (High Stakes Syndicate #2)

Chapter 7

SEVEN

NASH

My shoulders are on fire, my head is pulsing, and there are voices in the distance, yelling.

I’ve heard these voices around my dad before. Maybe it’s his friends over, and they’ve once again had way too much to drink.

But why do I feel like I’ve been run over by a Mack truck?

Cracking my eyes open, I quickly realize I’m hanging from a ceiling by my wrists.

“Hayden! Up and at ‘em, pretty boy,” the shorter man in front of me says, smacking my cheek a couple of times. Way too hard, might I add.

“Too bad this one is only ten… we could’ve had fun with him.” The slimy, slightly taller one runs his hands down the front of my body. I snarl at that comment but keep my mouth shut, knowing what’s best for me.

The short one smacks him on the back of the head, yelling, “Stop touching him. Boss has already threatened our lives for the damage we did bringing him here.” What in the world are these two talking about?

The big metal door creaks open, and a man in a suit, slicked-back black hair, and skin a couple of shades darker than mine comes in. He’s speaking Spanish to his men. Most people don’t expect me to know Spanish, but I’m fluent from Mama speaking to Willow and I in her native language. I don’t want them to know I understand what they’re saying, so I do my best to listen, but I’m struggling anyway because of the pain in my arms and just waking up.

The “Boss” is talking about my dad owing them money and not answering his phone. Taking me was supposedly their last resort, from what I’m hearing, and now he is cussing at them because they should’ve never hurt me.

My dad is a cop. Chief of Police, to be exact. But I had no clue that he was in with people this bad or owed them money… I try to wrack my brain about what the hell he could owe them money for. I don’t think it would be a small amount if they’re risking kidnapping charges… on a cop’s kid at that. My only hope is that they don’t hurt my sister next.

“Nash, is it?” I nod at the Boss, who’s now speaking to me. “We’re going to call your dad up, and I want you to ask if he’ll come and get you.”

“Okay.” My voice shakes so bad I barely get the word out. He hits the dial button and has the phone on speaker between us. It rings and rings, then goes to voicemail. He calls my dad three more times with no success. He then snaps a picture of me tied from the chains by my wrists and sends it over to him.

He waits a couple more minutes, and his phone finally buzzes with an incoming call. See, I knew my dad cared about me!

I hear my dad’s voice ring through the speaker, “Ramos, why is my son hanging from chains?” The fact that he sounds so casual and he’s not the slightest bit concerned about them having me is not ideal.

“Dad, please come get me.” I don’t like how weak those words make me sound, but I’ll say anything to escape these people. Every one of them that’s come in here has looked ready to eat me alive.

“Ramos. What do you want?”

“My money, Hayden. Now! Or your son is going to be fed a bullet.” I can’t hold it anymore; I start to sob. Not just cry. Sob.

“I don’t have your money, Ramos.”

? * I hear my name being called, but it’s not from any of the people in here. Then it hits me… I’m dreaming. The dream that always haunts me. After my dad says those words, that’s exactly when I wake up, no matter what.

“Nash, Baby. Please wake up. You’re having a nightmare. It’s okay.” I listen to Ellie’s sweet voice, basking in the gentle caress her fingers are making over my cheek.

When my eyes finally open, I’m faced with a very concerned Ellie. “Was I screaming?” I ask her with a wince. That’s usually how that dream goes. My body and brain think we’re right back in the holding cell with the cartel. It doesn’t remember the good times I had with them for the two weeks after my piece of shit father hung up on the cartel’s main man.

“What was that, Nash?” she questions while still gently rubbing my cheek. My head is in her lap, and her back is leaning against what I’m guessing is the wall. She looks a hell of a lot better than earlier. At least I think it’s still the same day… there’s no way it’s been longer than a day, right?

Explaining to Ellie, I say, “I always have the same nightmare.” She lets us sit in silence for a beat, never making it awkward. Then, I make a quick decision to start breaking down the walls I have built up around protecting my father. I know he’s not a good man, but he’s all I have left besides Willow. But he didn’t protect me when I needed it.

Filling Ellie in on these nightmares means opening up about everything. “So, you know my dad’s a cop, right?” She nods her head, silently encouraging me to keep going. “Well, he’s not a good cop… and when I was ten, the Mexican cartel took me because my father owed a very powerful man a lot of money and protection that he was not paying his dues on.”

Her brows pinch together, but then it dawns on her that my piece of shit father was the reason I was taken. “Taking a cops kids for ransom is wild…”

“The cartel was over dealing with my father and came for me instead, thinking that would get him to pay up, or at least fall in line with what they wanted from him.” Her hand pauses its stroking, but she quickly picks it back up again. “They figured a dad would do anything to get his son back and, in turn, get them their money and protection immediately…” She’s shaking her head back and forth, already putting together where this story is going. “After finally calling them back—once he received the picture of me hanging from the ceiling by my wrists—he told them he didn’t have their money and hung up. That’s the point I wake up every time I’m forced to relive that moment in my dreams. When something triggers me now, that’s when it resurfaces, and clearly, this situation is very triggering. I truly thought I was going to die right then and there, but the goddamn cartel felt sorry for me and kept me with them for two weeks after that. They treated me more like a human than my own father did, and does to this day.”

Tears are lining Ellie’s eyes. I take both of my thumbs, pressing them to the inner corners of her eyes, collecting them before they can escape. I don’t want the tears from people anymore. I don’t want the sorrow and hurt that always covers their faces when I tell them anything about my fucked up childhood. And I sure as fuck don’t want Ellie spending what very well could be our last days on this earth filled with sadness. “I’m sorry, Nash. Truly sorry.”

I slide my hand to the back of her neck to pull her lips down to mine. We kiss, but this isn’t like any kiss we’ve shared. It’s not heated and wanting like all the others in the past have been. No, this one conveys to me the true feelings she tries to keep bottled up and hidden from everyone. And I don’t take for granted being able to see this side of her. I will protect her soft side at all costs.

I try to reassure her the best way I can. “I don’t regret what happened because that day, I learned what a real piece of shit my father was and still is. The cartel cared more about my well-being than my own blood did. My mother was an absolute inconsolable mess when I finally arrived back home, but she quickly turned into the same thing she was before I was taken. Timid, did whatever he told her to do, and never asked questions. It’s almost like she knew she would be the next one in trouble if she didn’t stay in line. I’m still convinced my dad had something to do with her death, but it was covered up so heavily that her kids still don’t know the truth, years down the road.”

Ellie offers, “I think we can figure out what happened to her. I know Marcello knows a few people down on the border. I wonder if he can make some calls and ask around.”

“I still don’t know how my dad got the cartel to give me back, either…”

We’re both completely in denial that we’re locked away in what looks like an underground bunker. We haven’t even mentioned it to one another and are trying our best to keep each other distracted when we have the energy.

* ? 7 Minutes in Hell - Chrissy Costanza, VOILà