Chapter Four
SNATCHED
SABAN
“This is all my fault.” I whisper to Easy, thinking back to the night Snake killed Hector.
The tension in el Diablo exploded to an all-time high after Snake put my would-be rapist down like the dog he was.
Rudy’s crew has been gunning for me ever since.
The discord in the el Diablo between the old crew and the newer members is more apparent daily.
You’d think they’d be more concerned about the dirty way Hector knifed Pedro instead of trying to blame Snake and me for it. Hector deserved what he got. Pedro didn’t. I don’t feel bad about what happened to Hector. Somehow, the blame is on me for the whole way it played out.
“All I was doing was setting up for tattoos.” I tried explaining to Snake later.
“You were told to go the fuck home,” he seethed. His bitter words vivisected me as I stood in the kitchen the next morning after he shoved a bowl of oatmeal across the table for me to eat before he left for the day.
“I’m not a child.” Tipping my chin up, I met his stern glare over the pecan and raisin ladened porridge he’d sprinkled with my favorite cinnamon sugar.
“Yet, I keep having to pull you out of shit like you are one.” Scorn dripping from his words like venom as he pulled on his cut and stormed out.
The distance between us has only grown since then, and it’s no more clearer than at the clubhouse.
Yesterday, I finally had the chance to do Padre’s tattoo.
He also had some of his own ideas of what he’d like to see, but the design ended up pretty cool, with the skull resting on rose petals.
He kept the rosary and the cross, though.
I’d just finished when Snake strolled in with Bianca, a biker chick, a badass one at that.
One of the old heads, not part of Rudy’s crew, left her widowed.
She’d stepped in like a boss, taking his position instead of hooking up with another rider.
Though not an official member, she commands respect among the crew.
She got her CDL and took over her old man’s route like it was nothing.
Nobody fucks with her. She, like Ellie and the twin-cousins, is like one of the guys.
They ride with them, drink, take lovers just like the men, except she isn’t a patched member.
After throwing him a wink, she saunters over to the bar and starts chatting it up with Ellie.
Ellie’s eyes met mine with sympathy before making her friend a frothy coffee.
Ellie has a personal rule of not serving alcohol before noon to ensure peace and stability.
Of course, some grumbled, but with Snake’s enforcement, no one dares gainsay her.
Shrugging like I’m unbothered, trying to breathe through the feeling of being sucker-punched, I busy myself cleaning Padre’s arm.
“You know you’re extremely gifted, loyal and kind.” Surprise has me looking up into the Padre’s somber blue-gray eyes.
“Thanks,” a warm smile spreads over my face at him. I’m more than a little shaken by the vehemence of his words. Was my hurt that obvious?
His eyes slide over to Snake, who is still standing at the entrance, taking a quiet perusal of the club, ready to drop someone at a moment’s notice. His gaze skips past us only to track back, landing on me. I feel caught out, like I’m sneaking in past curfew.
“If he can’t see that, then you need to move on, amiga.” Standing, he drops two stacks on the table.
“Whoa, that’s way too much for that tat, Padre.” His hand comes down, stopping my attempt to slide one back towards him.
“Know your worth.” Lightly tapping his forefinger on my hand. “The sooner you do, the sooner people take notice and act accordingly.”
I looked down at the money, still feeling the phantom taps on my hand.
I can imagine he would have been a great priest had things not gone bad for him at the monastery.
“Aye.” The hard lines of Snake’s mouth and the glacial sharpness in his deep brown topaz eyes greet me when I crane my head up towards him.
“Hm?” Grabbing the stacks, I push them into my bag.
His gaze flicks towards the movement, his jaw hardening. “I’m going out of town to help Angel with something. I won’t be back until late tomorrow. Don’t be around here while I’m gone.”
He waits until I nod. He needn’t have worried.
“I have a consultation in town tomorrow, anyway.” Answering with a careless shrug, busy sanitizing my area, thinking how cool it will be to have my own shop one day and how if I keep saving it won’t take as long as I thought.
I also don’t want anymore trouble. The daggers shot my way by the folks aligned with Rudy’s crew make being here without Snake and Angel’s guys watching over me uncomfortable.
“Gotcha.” I smile like him and Bianca being a thing now doesn’t bother me as I pull on my backpack.
His silent regard was heavy as I left. Little did I know it would be the last time I saw him. If I had known, I would have rushed him with a hug—anything other than a flippant, ‘gotcha’.
“It’s not your fault,” Easy whispers back to me.
“You’re not responsible for the deeds of evil men.
” The surety of her words assuages whatever guilt I’m feeling.
She’s right. Nothing either of us did warrants Rudy’s crew kidnapping us.
They saw an opportunity to cause trouble and took it.
We are just collateral in furthering their aims.
“Ow,” we cry as the deep rut in the road jolts the cargo van we were thrown into.
Wherever they are taking us has to be super secret. A place they know no one will stop them or ever find us after they’ve done the worst things imaginable.
Another hit of a rut has us crashing into one another. The van swerves like it’s hit slick gravel, then comes to a screeching stop that pitches us forward. The momentum has us sprawling on the floor of the van.
Blood slicks from the too-tight zip ties breaking my skin.
It’s dusk when the doors open, but there is still enough glare to make my eyes water from the hot Alabama sun’s rays.
“Bring ‘em.” Rudy’s smarmy tone reaches us as burly hands snatch me, then Easy out of the rear of the van, throwing us on the ground.
The lack of rain has hardened the ground. Because I’m zip-tied, I can’t break my fall. My knee scrapes on the mixture of gravel and dirt.
Once he jerks me up, I notice how grimy the shorts and a poplin top I’m wearing are.
I’d worn them when I met up with Bahir Carrington at the Kandie Shoppe to show him the designs I drew for his tattoo.
I was leaving the meeting and heading for my bike parked around back when one of Rudy’s guys accosted me.
They march Easy and me into a warehouse that seems to hold a year’s worth of contraband to be shipped along with the more legitimate items of Cruz Logistics.
“I brought the spoils of war,” Rudy shouts over the hoots and hollers.
“Now that we’ve taken those putos’ little whores and shown they don’t have the conjones to keep them, there will be a new world order in el Diablo Cartel.
From now on, bitches will know their place.
” Grinning widely as we’re brought over to him, Rudy takes a bowie knife, cutting our clothes away.
We flinch as our clothes are shorn away.
Easy’s wide doe eyes meet mine. I bite back the cry threatening to spill from my lips.
The warehouse erupts with a cacophony of jeers and insulting remarks about our bodies and how they intend to abuse them.
“Time for baptism.” He says to the men assembled. Many wave bottles of liquor and beer. Some take swigs as they look on with lust filling their eyes. They almost look rabid, like the hare Snake had to put down once out by our little cottage.
For such a rowdy group, they line up with no problem in dousing us with liquor and beer to pour over our bodies and down our throats.
Rudy pinches our noses closed as each man laughingly pours alcohol down our throats, dousing our hair and spraying our faces. They find it particularly hilarious when either of us retches, spewing it out onto the floor.
“Lightweights,” he chuckles cruelly, grabbing my locs at a ridiculous angle.
“You’re all going to die.” I gasp, giving Rudy a wrathful stare.
“Maybe, maybe not, puta, but you and this little butterball are definitely going to be ran through and split open first.” Chuckling loudly, his eyes gleam with promise before taking a swig of tequila.
“String’em up.” Fear seizes me. Easy and I fight against them, ignoring the slaps and smacks against our flesh that are sure to leave bruises. Neither of us has a chance against the two dozen or so men in here, but we try.
Overwhelming us takes no time. They hang us by our wrists on chains linked to meat hooks they obviously got from a local slaughterhouse or farm. Vicious pinches tear into my skin, and I know from the sounds Easy is making that she’s faring no better.
“Don’t cry.” My gaze finds Easy’s wet, yet steady one. Though tied and strung up like meat, I’ve never seen such ferocity in my life from someone, save for the night, my mother tried to save me, only to be struck down, then Hadrián’s face when he came to kill my would be rapist.
“I-I won’t.” I find the resolve to hold back the tears already streaming down my cheeks. They won’t get another tear out of me.
“Think of your happiest memory,” she advises, sniffling like she’s already accepted the inevitable. “The other day at the covered bridge out by Angel’s house was the most beautiful moment we’ve shared.” She confesses, glowing even in this moment of darkness.
“Okay,” I gasp. The pain in my arms is blinding. I push it away, concentrating on making it one more moment, like Snake taught me on the trek to the US. Just one more step on the journey, and then the next thing we knew, we were here, safe and among friends with Ellie.
“We are going to make it out of here,” I promise Easy.