Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
CASEY
T here was an aggressive throbbing in my head as I blinked my eyes open, squinting them until my vision cleared.
“I told you; we keep her here until we lure Brinks,” a man’s voice said.
I tried moving in order to see him, but my hands were bound, my mouth gagged. I glanced down to see thick rope surrounding my ankles.
“What about that brat?” he motioned behind me, and I strained my neck to see Angie glaring at him. Her words came out muffled as she mouthed off to him, her gag ensuring he didn’t understand what she said. They had tied us both up, two metal poles keeping us in place, our hands tied behind them. I scanned the room we were in, noting the signs that told me we were in a building that was still under construction. The lighting was dim, and I thought we might have been in the basement. Cement blocks lined the far wall, plastic sheets hung behind them. A wheelbarrow with bags of cement sat next to them, and I swallowed down my fear that it was there to hide our bodies once they killed us. Even after all the time I’d lived in this world and known what could happen to Tyson or me, the threat had never seemed so real.
“We keep her. Donelli’s boy will come to find her, and we’ll take him out. The old man is no threat. It’s only his connection to Mason Brinks that keeps him safe and once we kill Brinks, the old man will fall to the nearest family.”
“Is that what the boss wants?” asked the guy who had been behind the counter at the coffee shop.
I could see more of the skull in his tattoo now that he was closer, and it matched the tattoo on the bicep of the guy he was talking to. This new man’s tattoo was of a classic car with flames down the side, but hidden within the wheel was the skull and dagger. The second guy was massive. He reminded me of Runt and the thought saddened me. The image of his dead eyes staring blankly ahead was something I would never erase from my mind. I didn’t know what had happened to my other guard, Billy, but seeing that Angie and I were here, that left little hope that he was still alive. I stifled the wave of sadness that climbed within me, knowing the situation was too dangerous for tears.
Closing my eyes quickly so they wouldn’t know I’d woken, I listened to the two as they talked. It seemed strange that they would talk openly in front of us, but maybe they assumed we’d both be dead before Tony or my brother and Mason found us.
“Yeah, we take Brinks down, but only enough to immobilize him. The boss wants to torture him some before we off him. These two come with us.” That blew my theory of burying us in cement. It should have left me relieved, but instead it filled me with dread. If they were keeping us alive, they had plans for us I didn’t want to imagine.
Their lack of secrecy puzzled me, especially since they weren’t planning to kill us. Even if they thought I was still unconscious, Angie was hearing it all. Angie wasn’t a threat. She didn’t care about her father’s business, and they most likely assumed she had no idea what they were talking about. But even then, talking plans in front of prisoners was foolish and assumptive, and Tyson had taught me that both things could be your death.
Footsteps fell before a blunt kick to my hip forced me to open my eyes. That was going to leave an ugly bruise, and a few muffled expletives came from me. The bigger guy kneeled in front of me, his beady eyes hooded, and yanked my gag down. “Think you’re smart, pretending to be unconscious, bitch?”
I spit at him and he hit my face so hard it left my ears buzzing. “You wait until my brother finds you. You’re gonna regret ever laying a hand on me.”
A laugh that scraped its way down my spine came from him. “I’m going to fuck your brother up so bad, you won’t recognize him. But he’ll get a fast death compared to Brinks. Brinks is the one you’re going to torture.”
“Me?” I stared at him, watching as my spit continued to slowly drip down his face.
“You, honey. Since Brinks was kind enough to show us just how important you are to him, he gets to watch as we sell you to the highest bidder.”
“Damn, that’s gonna be fun to watch,” the ass behind him said.
I was trying to keep my expression hard, but that was difficult with the way my stomach had curdled at the thought.
“Not as fun as the way he’ll die.” He lifted his finger and wiped the line of spit, bringing it to his mouth and sucking it from his finger. The contents of my stomach threatened to spill. “The Boss wants your buyer to break you in while Brinks watches and then he’ll kill him. What do you think that will do to him before the boss kills him?” He put the muzzle of his gun in my cleavage and pulled my shirt down further. “Pretty little thing like you would be fun to ruin.”
A gut-wrenching wail clawed at me for release, but I refused to show him my fear. His eyes glimmered with excitement, a nasty smile spreading on his face as the other man laughed. The thought of another man touching me, of them forcing Mason to watch, was sickening, and I swallowed back the bile and the wail. I wouldn’t let these men know they had any effect on me. That’s what they wanted. To break me down.
I knew this business was dangerous, that every day Tyson’s life was at risk but I never questioned my safety, no matter how many men guarded me, no matter that men with guns were everywhere I turned, no matter that the man I loved was one of the most feared killers of all the territories along with my brother. I’d never been worried. Tyson always kept me protected.
He jerked my gag back in place as I glared at him.
The guy from the coffee shop didn’t know when to shut his mouth and asked, “What about the other one?” He nodded toward Angie, who had gone quiet.
The spit eater rose, his eyes slow to leave my cleavage before he walked over to Angie, taking her face roughly in his hand as she violently screamed at him through her gag. “This one gets sold to the second highest bidder.”
Coffee shop guy let out a booming laugh. “He doesn’t fuck around, does he?”
“Nope. These two will fetch a pretty price. Then we turn to Tides.”
“Tides?” There was a distinct shake in his voice. Almost as strong as the one going through my body. I expected them to stop talking, but the idiots kept going. The more they said, the more I wondered how they could be Bad Omen.
“What’s wrong, fucker?” asked his partner. “You afraid of Greyson Tides? Fuck Tides. He doesn’t scare me.”
Coffee shop guy didn’t appear to agree, his skin looked a little paler. Maybe he was new to the Omens, or maybe he was a mark. But that made no sense considering the spit eater gave me the vibe of someone who fit the description of an Omen, other than his loose mouth. “He’s a heavy hitter. You sure we’re going after him next?”
“This will force his hand. You remember who his girl is? If Randall hadn’t fucked it up, we would have had him already and the bitch would be on her knees obeying some big roller’s kinks. But Randall deviated from the plan.”
“Well, he fucked it up the first time by not following the plan and bringing her home.”
They just wouldn’t stop, and my doubts about the Omens increased. These guys were off their game and spilling too much information. Information that I took and stored. I’d be happy to report every word of this back to Ty and Mason while they slowly dismembered these guys, starting with their loose tongues. And as much as I avoided the violence of the families, I would get my bucket of popcorn and watch with delight.
“Yeah, he wasn’t the smartest. He had a second chance. Fuck, both Tides and Brinks would have chased her to our turf and both would be dead by now. But he wanted to play around first. Was supposed to bring her back so we could sell her, then bring Tides and Brinks to their knees.”
“Good thing Tides killed him, or the boss would have skinned him alive.”
“If he was lucky,” the other one muttered.
Angie had gone silent, and I peered over at her. She looked exhausted, and I wondered how long she’d been yelling at them. She was a bitch and a brat who never stopped to consider her words or the insults she threw around, but she was a spit-fire and no matter how docile she looked, I pitied anyone who got on her bad side.
The spit eater’s phone rang, taking my attention from Angie.
“Yeah.”
“Good.” He hung up, saying to his buddy, “Let’s go. No need to worry about Donelli’s son. They took him down, and the old man has himself locked up in his safe-house. It won’t be long before he falls.” Angie’s strength broke, and she let out a muffled cry. “Brinks is on his way. Let’s give him a warm welcome when he steps off his plane.”
Shit, how many men did they have, and why hadn’t Donelli flushed them out? If they were here, they could be anywhere. Bad Omen were the ghosts of the families, hiding in the shadows, waiting to take down a family. They’d been dormant for years, but ever since the attack on Mason, they were ramping up their efforts. But after everything I’d just witnessed, these guys didn’t strike me as that calculating, otherwise their mouths would have stayed shut in our presence. They were sloppy, and that was something Bad Omen weren’t.
“What about these two?” coffee shop guy asked.
Spit eater looked at us and laughed. “They’re harmless women. That’s the problem with these families today. They keep their women submissive. Weak, controlled women who couldn’t fight back if they wanted to because they’d break a nail.”
“Some of us like them like that,” the other guy said, licking his lips at Angie.
“Don’t let your woman hear that. She’d smack you upside your head and feed you to the dogs.”
The two laughed as they left the room, taking a flight of stairs across from them and never looking back. Let them think I was submissive. Sometimes I was, especially when Mason pulled that dominating shit on me that made me soaked. But I was anything but submissive, and Tyson had taught me well.
I searched the room, looking for something I could reach with my feet. Angie was yelling something at me, but I ignored her. She probably had to pee, or maybe she did really break a nail.
There was nothing close by and no matter how I worked my wrists, the binds didn’t loosen. I pushed my feet out, giving myself leverage and cursing myself for wearing such a short skirt as my skin shredded under the abrasion of the cement floor. Once I had solid footing, I scooted my back up the pole one inch at a time until my footing was secure enough to move faster. I was halfway up when something sharp tore into my back. I yelped into my gag, swearing at the pain that flared through me. Dropping back to my butt, I looked up, seeing the sharp piece of metal jutting from the pole. It blended in so that no one would see it unless they were looking from that angle. My back was throbbing and there was a streak of blood down the pole.
Angie was quiet, and I glanced over at her. Her eyes were wide as she looked back down from the sharp piece. There was hope in them and it gave me the urge to move again. I manipulated my body, scooting around the pole until I had the metal aligned with my wrists, then I began my ascent again. It was painstakingly slow, and I worried I might not make it in time. Not that I had a plan beyond freeing myself. All I knew was that Mason’s plane was landing soon. Since I didn’t know how long I’d been unconscious, I had no idea how close his plane was to landing. He would bring his men, and I knew no matter what had gone down, Tyson would be with him. And if these men got to the hangar first, I stood to lose them both.
My arm hit the metal, sending a searing ache through it. I cursed again and shifted until it hit the rope. I was at an odd angle, my legs not completely standing, my weight on my back, increasing the pain from my wound, but I gritted my teeth around my gag and worked the rope against the metal. The more my thighs burned from the mini squats I was doing, the more I vowed to hit the gym more when this was over. The pain was so intense, my thighs were quivering uncontrollably. Sweat beaded down my face and I wondered if my work was getting me anywhere or if I just looked like a fool until I felt the give in the rope. My heart thudded with excitement and with a few more lifts, my wrists freed, the rope snapping. The motion sent me sliding around the pole, and my ass landed hard on the cement floor.
Angie was yelling with an enthusiasm I’d never witnessed from her usual prissy demeanor. Untying my legs and then my gag, I stood, my legs still trembling from my workout. I was bruised and bleeding, but I was free. I considered leaving Angie for a fleeting moment as punishment for all the nasty things she’d ever said in her nonchalant way, but decided now wasn’t the time to reprimand her. Instead, I freed her, waiting for her thanks but getting none as she complained about the men who’d manhandled her and vowing to kill them all if they’d really hurt her brother.
I highly doubted she could physically kill anyone, but she could annoy them to death.
She marched to the stairs, but I stopped her, yanking her back. “Are you mad? We don’t know who’s out there or even where we are,” I scolded.
“And what do you propose we do?” She snatched her arms away before crossing them and staring me down.
Ignoring how badly I wanted to smack her, I grabbed a brick that was lying next to the pile of cement blocks and a hammer I found after rummaging through the wheelbarrow.
“Here,” I said, handing her the brick instead of hitting her with it.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“File your nails with it. What do you think you should do with it?” I snapped, wishing I’d left her tied up.
Taking the stairs one by one, hammer at the ready, I held my breath and prayed they’d been foolish enough to leave us alone. But they were Omens, so that wasn’t likely. When I reached the last step, I saw one flipping through his phone. His gun was on the table, far enough away to divert his attention from it. And again, I wondered at the way these men were handling things. Even men assigned to guard me never relaxed on the job. They always remained vigilant.
Turning, I put my finger to my mouth and grabbed the brick from Angie.
“Do what you do best, and get that guard’s attention,” I whispered.
“What I do best? What does that mean?”
“It means be the slut you are and show him your tits. Fuck him for all I care. Just keep him occupied.”
“He’ll kill me!” she hissed.
But I didn’t think he would, not from everything I’d seen so far. “Just do it.”
She frowned but pulled her shirt down, letting her breasts spill over even further. With a wiggle, she pushed her shorts down so that her hips were visible, along with almost half her ass. Sashaying over to him, I watched her in action. He stood no chance as he fumbled for his gun, dropping his phone at the same time Angie sat on his lap. The gun slid out of reach, dropping onto the ground with a thud.
“What the fuck?” he asked, grabbing her arms.
“Fuck? I’m not against that,” she purred. “Those two weren’t my type but you…” her fingers dug at his pants, “you seem like you’d fuck me like a real man.”
He was speechless, clearly regarding her as no threat, because he let her arms go and grabbed her waist, pulling her onto the bulge in his pants.
“You want to be fucked, honey?”
“So hard it breaks me.”
He grunted, his hands cupping her breasts and pulling her shirt down. Her tits would have impressed me if mine weren’t bigger and she hadn’t forced me in the changing room with her countless times over the years I’d known her, bragging about how perfect hers were compared to my chubby ones. Chubby, my ass. My tits were perkier and fuller, but I’d bitten my lip each time, knowing it wasn’t worth the battle.
I dropped to the floor and crawled to the gun.
Just as he squeezed her breast, I squeezed the trigger, my aim precise after years of target practice with Tyson and Donelli’s men. The bullet tore through his neck, blood splattering everywhere. Angie screamed, jumping from his body as he fell against her.
“Shut up, Angie!” I hissed, taking her arm and pulling her with me.
“There’s blood…in my mouth,” she cried, wiping her fingers over her face.
“Better than that guy's dick between your legs or the dick of some sex slave buyer.”
“His dick was big; it might not have been as bad as this.”
Glaring at her, I yanked her shirt back up and dragged her behind me, surprised there were no other guards. They’d seriously underestimated me, grouping me in the same defenseless category as Angie, who was still complaining about how I’d ruined her designer outfit. My urge to leave her behind was growing. Something felt off again, and I readied my gun as a precaution.
“Do you know where we are?” I asked, surveying the empty construction site from a corner.
“Daddy’s new shopping mall,” she said.
“The one in east Bayport?”
“Yeah, see, you can see the city to the west of us.”
We weren’t far from the airport. There was no one around, but I spotted a pickup parked a few feet from us. “Angie, how long was I out?”
“I don’t know. A long time. They had us both stuffed in the trunk forever before they dragged us out and tied us up.”
That didn’t help me determine how much time we had before Mason landed. He wouldn’t expect an ambush since I was the one who had called him. Unless the idiots had told him they had us. Which, given the three men who had underestimated us, gave me hope they had, and that Mason would be extra cautious.
Donelli had told me he’d kept our relationship quiet. But someone knew. Someone watching Donelli from the outside, or worse, from the inside.
“We need to get to that truck.”
Angie looked over my shoulder. “It’s so far away!”
“There’s no one here.” Just as I said it, a man rounded the corner. This one was alert and armed. He was alone, but that didn’t mean there weren’t others. I didn’t see any other cars, which told me they had parked in the back. Deciding to take the chance, I aimed. All the years of Tyson’s training came back to me as I released the trigger. He turned too late, and the bullet tore through his head. I heard a muffled scream as his body collapsed. Angie’s hand was over her mouth, muting her fright.
“Let’s go!” I dragged her with me, fearing the shot would send more men coming.
There were no keys in the truck, but two more guns were under the seat. And there was a phone. It was an ancient flip phone, but I didn’t care.
“Who uses those things anymore?” Angie said, throwing me a disgusted look from where she stood inside the passenger door.
Rolling my eyes, I flipped it open, only then realizing the battery was dead.
“Dammit!” I threw the phone, my eyes darting to the building and my fear compounded until I heard the jingle of keys.
Angie held a pair of keys out to me.
“How—”
“I know how my father’s men work and the ones he hires for these jobs don’t hide their spare keys well.”
That statement left me with too many questions, so I kept my mouth shut and hopped into the truck. She tossed the keys to me, standing there, that disgusted look morphing her features again.
“You don’t expect me to sit in this…this thing, do you?”
“Get in the fucking truck, Angie, or I swear I’ll deliver your ass to the Bad Omens personally when this is over. As much as you like getting fucked, I don’t think you’d like some dirty old man buying you and making you his sex slave for the rest of your life.”
She pursed her lips. “If he’s buying me, he’ll be rich, right?”
“You’re gross. Get in the truck.” My patience was running thin, my time running out.
I bit back my rage as she gingerly climbed into the pickup, closing the door with her thumb and index finger as if shit layered it.
A gun shot fired, the windshield shattering as the bullet hit the seat between us. I ducked, starting the truck and tearing from the site while bullets rained on us. When the sound stopped, I peeked at Angie, seeing her huddled on the floor but with no injuries. We had a head start, and I made the most of it, flooring the accelerator as I weaved in and out of traffic, swerving off the highway at the next exit and hoping they would assume I’d stayed on the highway.
The airport was about thirty minutes out and I had a full tank of gas and the determination that those assholes weren’t laying a finger on my man or my brother. The pressure of the gun sat against my leg where I’d tucked it and the other two in the seat, reminding me that I’d blow anyone’s brains out if they even dared.