Chapter 4
Chapter Four
ANDIE
“I see you’re awake,” a man, who is not Liam, states. Where’s Liam?
The man thumbs a switch on the wall. A lone lightbulb flickers to life above my head. This entire scenario couldn’t be more clichéd. The guy is dressed in a slick Italian suit and shiny black leather loafers that are polished with a glossy sheen.
I’m half-expecting two burly goons with brass knuckles to come stomping in, and the well-dressed man to whip out a Fedora to place on his partially balding head. The image has me releasing a raspy chuckle. The man’s brow furrows at my reaction, more than likely wondering what I find in my current situation that is so amusing.
If he’s expecting me to plead for my life or beg him to let me go, he kidnapped the wrong fucking girl. The thing about wishing yourself dead is that you couldn’t give two fucks when someone threatens your life. Revenge is my only sustenance now. If he were to put a bullet in my brain right this second or slice open my throat, I would be happy just the same. It would mean seeing my brother that much sooner. This asshole would actually be doing me a favor.
A very large man with a noticeable paunch comes ambling into the room and stands next to the well-dressed man. I burst out laughing when I notice the brass knuckles on his left hand. At least my father’s soldiers are better dressed and in better shape than these idiots.
“Holy hell, you guys are too much.”
“Excuse me?” the man demands, his voice taking on an edge. Yeah, bite me.
“I need to pee.”
He looks at the big guy beside him and back at me. “Excuse me?” he says again.
“Take a leak. Go to the pisser. Have a tinkle. Seriously, I need to go to the restroom. Otherwise, I’m going to make a big fucking mess in about five minutes.”
“Shut her up,” the man tells his goon.
And here we go.
I brace for the hit I know is coming and am thankful the guy used his right hand and not the left one covered in metal. My head snaps back at the blow, and my mouth throbs painfully. I can taste blood and feel the sting of where he split the corner of my lip.
“Not laughing now,” the man smugly states.
I spit a glob of blood on the dirty floor at his feet and smile. I must look like a raving lunatic to him because he actually takes a step away from me, even though I’m strapped to a chair and can’t move.
“Whatever you have to say, please get it the fuck over with. I’m tired, my wrists itch like mad. Not to mention, I’m bored and am in serious need of a restroom break.”
Another hit to my stomach has me wheezing and choking on air. Damn it. He used his left fist that time. Son of a bitch , that hurt.
The man jerks the other guy back by the forearm just as he’s about to deliver another punch which is aimed at my face. The man growls low at the enforcer, but it’s loud enough for me to hear what he says.
“Enough. Even though she’s Rossi’s little bitch, Mr. Levine said not to touch her. And you know what will happen?—”
With a curled lip tucked up in a sneer, the big guy interrupts. “Then we make sure he doesn’t find out. We could say she tried to escape or some shit.”
My head jerks up at the name mentioned. Are they talking about Declan Levine? The man who hates my father about as much as I do. I thought he was serving time in federal prison.
“Well, you must feel pretty stupid then,” I say out loud, getting their attention. “I think Mr. Levine will take one look at me and know you did more than touch.” My words come out a little stiff because of the swelling in my cheek where the guy punched me.
“You better watch your mouth?—”
Suddenly, there’s a loud crashing sound coming from somewhere outside the room, followed closely by shouts and gunfire. It’s like listening to the night Kellan was killed, where all I could hear were the cracking sounds of bullets being fired, and then chaos. Each boom causes me to jerk in my chair as if the bullets were physically hitting me.
The huge guy pulls out a gun from the back of his waistband and carefully steps to the open doorway. That’s as far as he gets before his body flails backward in a barrage of bullets. He trips over the man behind him and collapses to the ground. The blood pooling out over the floor has me tightly closing my eyes, the sight too much like my nightmares. I yelp when a gun is discharged feet away from me, leaving my ears ringing. A spray of warm wetness splashes across my bare arms and I almost gag, knowing it’s the man’s blood.
“In here!” another man shouts, and recognition of his voice has me opening my eyes. I wish I hadn’t.
Rafe stumbles to a dead stop when he locks his blue eyes with my violet ones. “ Andie? What the fuck?” He stares at me like he’s seeing a ghost.
“Rafe, we gotta move!” Keane yells, charging into the room.
His eyes bug out when he sees me. I must look like a horror show, my face bruised, swollen, and bleeding, streaks of blood dripping down my front. Nothing like the fresh-faced, innocent girl they once knew.
“What the fuck is going on?” Keane demands, rushing over to me.
He gently cradles my face, his fingertips feathering lightly over the bruise on my cheek, a hiss passing through his lips as he inspects my injuries.
“Apparently, the boss left out some very important information about why we’re here,” Jax says, his large form filling the doorway like a boogeyman.
Jax has always made me uneasy with his piercing green eyes and stonewall face I could never get a read on.
Wait. My father knows I’m here and sent them? Shit .
Keane’s hazel eyes flash. “Fuck, Tinker Bell,” he says before his spine straightens with menace.
I want to scream at him not to call me that. He has no right to use Kellan’s nickname for me. But before I can, Keane stands up from his crouched position in front of me, whips out his gun, and fires two shots into the head of the already dead man, before doing the same to the bigger guy.
“Get her out of that fucking chair,” he commands, and stalks to the door, blocking it as if he dares anyone to get past him.
With a flick of the wrist, Jax has his red-hilted knife out. He walks over to me, and I eye him like the dangerous animal he is. Jax may be the brains of the group, but he is also the most lethal. You never see him coming until it’s too late. And the horrible things I’ve witnessed him do with that knife is what nightmares are made of.
Jax mumbles something unintelligible, his voice low and gravelly. He uses the knife to cut the zip ties and slice through the material that binds me to the back of the chair. As soon as my hands are released, I rub them vigorously to get the blood flowing again. I have painful, red, raw marks circling each wrist.
“Can you walk?” Rafe asks me, his tone tender. It pisses me off. I don’t want any kind of softness from him.
I ignore him and brush past him to stand behind Keane. Keane turns his head to look at me over his shoulder, a lock of his dark brown hair falling into his face. Still so damn handsome. When I was younger, I used to have such huge crushes on all three of these boys. Now all I feel is hate. But they are my ticket out of here, so I’m taking the road of “better the devil you know.”
Holding his gun at the ready by his side, Keane leads us out of the room. Jax joins him at the front, while Rafe brings up the rear behind me. All three men flank me protectively.
We have to carefully pick our way around several bodies scattered on the floor in the long hallway. Jesus Christ. It’s a bloodbath. Was this stuff normal for Kellan? Rage like I have never felt consumes me. Kellan deserved a better life than this.
My head is on a swivel as I look out for Liam, expecting him to pop out of the walls and attack, but he doesn’t. Did he just take me, dump me here with those two goons, and leave?
As the guys escort me through the building, I’m cursing Liam for fucking up my plans. I’ll have to adjust things now, but the end result will be the same. He also must have my goddamn phone and laptop. I doubt he would have taken the suitcase that contains my clothes when he took me. If he left it in the hotel room, I’m sure it’s already gone, snatched up by one of the employees or thrown out with the garbage.
When we approach a set of double doors at the end of the hall, I can feel Rafe’s body heat at my back as he slides in closer to me. My skin prickles at his nearness, and I want to turn around and shove him away from me.
It’s not until we get outside, do I take a deep breath as I shield my eyes from the intense sun. The smell of rubber, rust, and oil hangs in the air, and when I take a quick glance around, I notice we’re standing in some type of junkyard. The building we just came out of is a large storage warehouse.
Jax jogs off, and a minute later, a nondescript van appears. Rafe slides the side door open, and Keane takes my arm, guiding me inside. As soon as I’m seated and Rafe closes the door, Jax hits the gas, spinning the wheels a few times before the van lurches out of the gravel lot.
Keane and Rafe are both staring, and part of me wants to squirm in my seat at how closely they are scrutinizing me. Jax tosses something from the front, and it hits me on the leg. Asshole. I pick it up and see that it’s one of those ice packs you find in first aid kits. Rafe tries to take it, wanting to help, but I jerk it away from his reach. I squeeze the bag a few times to activate the endothermic chemical reaction, then hold the pack to my swollen cheek.
“Take us to the cabin,” Keane tells Jax.
“But Max—” Rafe starts to protest.
Keane cuts him off with a low growl of irritation at being contradicted.
“Max sent us in blind. We need to figure out what the fuck is going on,” Rafe argues.
Dissension in the ranks already.
Keane turns his scowl on me—the considerate, caring man from before, gone. “You’re going to tell us everything.”
I give a passive snort and roll my eyes. I’m not telling them jack shit.
“Andie—”
My attention flies to Rafe when he says my name. I point a finger at him. “You need to shut the hell up and not talk to me. Ever,” I emphasize.
Disgusted with being forced to share the same space and air with these men, I turn my body and adjust the ice pack on my face, ignoring them the rest of the way to wherever they are taking me.