Chapter 44
“Where are you taking me?” I yell at the driver as he veers into the woods. It’s pitch black—no signs of life. No one to hear my screams. I cradle my belly with trembling arms. Please, God. Not now. Not like this.
The man beside me digs his gun into my ribs. “I told you to shut the fuck up.”
I glare at him. “You better pray Sandman never finds you.”
“Darling, the Gods are finished,” he says, a grin cutting across his face. “We’ve been recruiting. Soon there won’t be a single God left. Long live the Disciples.”
The truck jerks to a stop. “We’re here.”
I look out the window, my frantic gaze searching, but there’s nothing—just endless trees and darkness.
“Time to meet your maker, darling,” the man taunts, yanking me out of the backseat.
The truck’s headlights cut through the night, revealing two figures in the distance. As my captor hauls me closer, their faces come into focus. I do a double take when I see the man. I know him.
“I’ve seen you before. You were a patient at Sibley back in October. I brought your meals.”
We shared a few casual conversations, and he seemed nice enough.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” He chuckles. “It’s a small world.”
I freeze, one particular patch on his cut catching my eye. “You’re the president of the Disciples.”
He grins. “The one and only.”
My heart drops into my stomach. “Are you going to kill me?”
“I am, but it’s nothing personal, sweetheart.”
“Do you know who I am?” the blonde standing beside him asks. She runs a teasing hand over his bulging bicep, smug satisfaction curling her lips.
I study her features, but I don’t recall our paths ever crossing. “No.”
“I’m Sam’s mother.”
“What?” I whisper. How is she mixed up in all this?
She was a sore spot for Sandman, so we rarely spoke about her. I’ve never even seen a picture of her.
“Why are you doing this?”
“I came to visit Sam a couple months ago.” She releases the arm she’d been admiring and approaches me with a confident sway in her hips.
“I wanted to make things right between us, be part of his life, but he slammed the door in my face like I was nothing,” she spits, bitterness contorting her features into a hard mask.
“I’ve made mistakes, but nobody’s perfect. ”
Sandman didn’t say anything about his mother’s visit, but he’s not exactly forthcoming with me.
“Please don’t do this.” I grasp her hand and place it on my swollen belly. “I’m pregnant with your granddaughters. Whatever issues you and Sandman have, we can work them out together.”
She jerks back and laughs, a sinister sound that crawls down my spine like ice. “I no longer have a son. I want Zeus and everyone who shares his blood gone, starting with the little whores in your womb.”
“Is it money you want? Sandman will pay whatever you ask. Just don’t do this!”
“We know.” Spider ambles up behind Sandman’s mother and wraps his arms around her waist. “We’re killing two birds with one stone.” He nods at his henchman, who then drags me over to a shallow grave.
Oh God, they’re going to bury me alive.
“No, no, no!” I scream hysterically, pulling against the hard hands holding me. “Please don’t!”
They shove me into the makeshift wooden coffin. That’s when I feel it—a small pop, then a warm gush between my thighs.
One of the men laughs. “Little bitch pissed herself.”
“Her water broke, idiot.”
“Hurry the fuck up,” Spider growls. “We got people to kill and moves to make.”
They nail me inside the crudely made casket. Dirt falls through the cracks, filling the confined space with dust and debris. I hear their elated laughter and taunts, muffled by my pounding fists and frantic screams.
Soon their voices fade away, and I’m left in complete darkness. I slam my fists against the wood until my knuckles are raw and slick with blood.
The familiar tightening in my chest unleashes a new level of terror. I don’t have an inhaler. My chances of survival have just dropped to zero. Be strong for your girls. If you don’t survive, neither do they.
I take deep, even breaths, inhaling through my nostrils and blowing out through my mouth. Wait—I do have one.
I dig the canister from my jacket pocket and inhale the life-saving medication into my lungs. Thank God I slipped it in there the last time I went out.
I press down again.
Nothing.
It’s empty.
Oh no.
I pray the little medicine I got is enough to keep me alive until help arrives.
If help arrives.
I whimper as a wave of pain slices through my abdomen and lower back. My contractions have started.
“You goin’ act like somebody pissed in your cornflakes all night?” Cricket asks with a chuckle.
“Fuck off,” I growl and down another shot, savoring the clear, bitter liquid as it slides down my throat.
He chuckles. “You’re in love, bro. That girl has had you wrapped around her pinky finger since you were twelve.”
“I can’t love.” I grab the bottle of tequila and pour myself another shot. “Don’t know how. Even if I did, I could never love her. Not after what she did.”
Zilphia broke me in every way a person can be broken. If Zeus hadn’t found me and put a gun in my hand, I would’ve been six feet under long ago. Killing became my therapy. Killing gave me power. Killing made me forget… her.
Wishful thinking on my part. Zilphia was always in the back of my mind, like a fucking fly that wouldn’t go away.
“Yeah, you do.” He reaches into the bowl of mixed nuts between us on the bar and pops a few into his mouth. “Your brand of love is just all kinds of fucked up.”
“Keep yapping, and I’m going to beat your ass up and down this bar.”
“Damn,” he tsks, shaking his head. “You need anger management, dude.”
I grunt. “Smart ass.”
Cricket shoots me a thoughtful look, all traces of humor gone. “I never liked Zilphia, but you chose her. Just don’t lose yourself again.”
Before I can respond, the music dies mid-beat, and the lights snap on. I bound to my feet, Glock gripped tight in my hand, scanning the room for danger. Cricket is at my side, his weapon drawn.
“If you’re not a God, get the fuck out!” Jigsaw shouts at the crowd.
“What the fuck is going on?” Cricket mumbles.
Zeus watches me from across the bar, fear and anger etched on his rugged features. The fine hairs on the back of my neck rise. In almost four years, I’ve never seen him show fear.
Draco, Jigsaw, Tank, and Butch stand huddled with him, whispering among themselves. We push through the throng of bodies toward them. A good number of brothers are here tonight.
The room hums with low voices and restless energy as they await orders.
“What’s up?”
Zeus and Jigsaw share a look, but no one answers.
“Somebody gonna talk?” I snap.
“Snake’s been shot,” Zeus replies, his voice raw with anger. “He’s in surgery now.”
“What are his chances?” My blood is boiling, but I force myself to stay calm for now. But make no mistake, I’m going to paint the streets red with the fuckers who went after my brother.
“Don’t know, they wouldn’t say over the phone.” He lets out a thunderous roar and flips the nearest table.
Jigsaw places a firm hand on his shoulder. “That kid’s been tough since he was in diapers. A few bullets won’t take him out.”
Zeus gives a sharp nod before continuing. “Snake was conscious for a bit. Said it was the Disciples that shot him.”
I squeeze the weapon in my hand until my knuckles burn. It’s time to end those bastards once and for all. “What’s the move?”
Again, my question is met with silence. I level a pointed look at Zeus. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He hesitates, his jaw clenched tight, then his words land like a sledgehammer. “Zilphia’s been kidnapped.”
Without a word, I holster my gun and pull my cell phone from my back pocket as I race toward the exit. The voices and footsteps behind me fall on deaf ears.
Zilphia is my only priority.
By now, the streets will be buzzing about what happened. One or more of our informants might have some intel. A text notification from an unsaved number stops me in my tracks.
I turn around, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. “Spider wants fifteen million tonight. Wants me to come alone or Zilphia’s dead.”
“Spider?” Loretta questions from her seat at a booth. Despite news of her daughter’s abduction, she devours the food in front of her with gusto.
Draco showed up with her about an hour ago. Zilphia kicked her out. I didn’t give a fuck. Didn’t want her there to begin with.
“What part of get the fuck out didn’t you understand?” Draco snaps at her.
“I live here now, remember?” she retorts haughtily. “I’m only asking because I knew a Spider a long time ago.”
“I doubt it’s the same Spider,” Cricket deadpans.
“Well, I heard someone mention Disciples. The Spider I knew was the president of an MC with the same name. He’s tall, right? Six three, dark-brown skin, with a crescent-moon-shaped scar on his left cheek?”
I’m standing in front of her before she can blink. “How do you know him?”
The bitch smirks, and I have to remind myself not to knock her ass under the booth. A sudden thought hits me, and I narrow my eyes at her. If she had anything to do with Zilphia’s kidnapping, Jesus Christ himself won’t be able to save her from my retribution.
“Talk,” I hiss.
“Spider is Zilphia’s father.”
It takes a few seconds for her words to sink in. “What the fuck did you say?”
“We had a fling in Vegas,” she explains around a mouthful of food. “I never told him about Zilphia because I was married and he was just for fun.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I hear Cricket grumble behind me.
Didn’t see this coming, but it works out in my favor. From what I’ve heard, Spider’s big on family. Chances are, he won’t kill his own daughter. “Get up, you’re coming with me.”
“What? Why should I put myself in danger? I’m sure it’s Zilphia’s own fault she was kidnapped. She’s always been stupid.”
I snatch her out of the booth. “You’re coming with me. End of fucking discussion.”
“How dare you?” she squawks in outrage. “Are you all just going to stand there and watch him manhandle a pregnant woman?”