Hammer (21 page)

Rage consumes me as my mind races with everything they could be doing to her. Hell, we don’t even know who has her.

Ice’s phone rings, and after he looks at the display screen, he answers with a clipped “Yeah” while pushing the speaker button.

Screech’s voice crackles over the line. “Eyes on the prize via the Florida Highway Patrol’s aircraft camera feed. Regular white work van. I can’t get the plates because they have them obscured with one of those tinted license plate covers. They’ve already hit the highway and are headed northwest at a speed of seventy miles per hour. You’ll need to put the pedal to the metal to catch up to them.”

“What are we lookin’ at for law enforcement presence in the area? We clear for top speeds?”

“Negative, ghost rider. You’ve got several bogeys in your area, so you’ll have to proceed with caution. You want me to tip them off to a kidnapping and put a BOLO out in case? They can get to her before you can.

“
NO
!” I shout. “They’ll fuckin’ kill her before any cops can stop the van. Just keep your eyes on her and let us know where they’re heading.”

“Roger that. Still headed northwest on Route 27. Next exit is Hialeah.”

“If they so much as shift their little pinky in another direction, I wanna know immediately,” Ice grinds out through gritted teeth.

“Ten-four, bos—Wait, what the fuck? No!
FUCK NO
!”

My hands grip the dashboard so hard they are white from the strain, and I hear the vinyl crack under the pressure. “What is it, Screech?”

“I lost the fuckin’ feed! Something or someone is jamming it, blocking me out.”

“You can’t hack another source, man?” Coal asks.

“I’m searching traffic light camera feeds now, but it doesn’t look good, brother. I can’t find them where they’re supposed to be at the rate they are traveling. And nothing is coming up in the vicinity, either. I hate to say this, but I think we just lost ’em.”

Picking up the phone, I call the only other people who know about Desirae’s situation and what the fuck we are possibly dealing with.

“Tank,” he answers immediately.

“Hammer here. Tell me you’ve got something more than the last time we touched base.”

I hear the muffled sounds of him moving locations. His voice is low, his tone sharp. “Tell me the panic I hear in your voice isn’t because something happened to Des.”

“No time for a pissing match. Share your intel.”

“Gotta ride,” I hear him say to someone else. “We already have. You guys are the big dogs with the legal connections.”

“I don’t give a shit what kind of connections need to be used. Someone found her and came into my fucking house to get her. Tell me who the fuck it is so we can get to her.”

“We shared all we have. Hang tight,” he snaps, moving through an office or some sort of building. “Check Des’s bank account. Did she move any money? Anyone touch anything?” I hear Tank order someone else. He still doesn’t speak to me as I hear the mumbled sounds of another man speaking. “Ah, fuckin’ shit.”

“What? Dammit, don’t leave me hanging.” My anxiety amps up, and I have this need to snap someone in two. Right now, Hellion or not, Tank will suffice to ease my temper.

“Des apparently logged into her online account not long ago. If anyone was watching for a paper trail of her location and hacked in, they could narrow down where she was.”

“I’ve got a man I can get on that. Anything else?”

“Nope, we can be there in a day.”

“No!” I answer immediately. Desirae is mine, and my boys will be the ones to save her, dammit. “You stay put in case they head your way. We have a connection who can help in Chicago, too.” I know I should let the Hellions come, but there are things we can get away with that they can’t, and I can’t let them in on who we really are. More than anything, as the man who has come to want this woman, care for this woman, and possibly be in love with this woman, I do not want her to leave the first chance she can with Tank and the Hellions. I trust my team and know we will get her home safely.

Besides, if by some chance they have gotten her out of Florida and are heading north, it will be handy to have their help to close in on these assholes.

“Stay in touch,” he orders.

I want to punch him in the face. He isn’t a bad dude—none of the Hellions are—but right now, I’m helpless and want to hurt everyone in my path.

I will find her. She will be okay. And every motherfucker who touched her will pay.

~Desirae~

“Desirae,” a feminine voice whispers in the darkness. I can’t decipher where it came from as it echoes around me. “Over here, Desirae. Come talk to me.”

Tears fill my eyes, and my heart stops. It can’t be. The person who said that is dead. Does this mean I’m dead now, too, if I can hear my sister’s voice again?

I look all around me, but I don’t see her anywhere. As a matter of fact, I can’t see anything at all.

“Where are you, Suzie Sunshine?” I yell to the black void that surrounds me.

Then, as if someone slowly turns on a dimmer light, the black recedes, and I see my little sister sitting on a wooden park bench a few yards from me. Grass appears under her feet and spreads like wildfire until I look down to see I’m now standing on grass, as well. The darkness and void of life disappear; the sky turns a beautiful shade of blue; and the sun shines down on my precious Suzie, making her glow almost ethereally.

So many thoughts race through my mind. Am I dead? Is this Heaven? Or was Suzie’s death just a dream, and I’m finally waking up from a perpetual nightmare?

Then I realize it doesn’t matter what is going on or why my little sister is sitting there, smiling at me, because
it is Suzie
. My Suzie. No matter the circumstances, this moment is a dream come true, a chance to see my sister again.

Unwilling to waste another second, I run toward her, and her smile gets wider the closer I get. She holds out a hand, waiting for me to close the distance between us.

Our fingertips have just touched when a sharp blow hits the side of my face, leaving a thousand stinging sensations behind it. I gasp at the pain and end up sucking in ice cold water.

Gasping for breath and blinking the water out of my eyes, I finally somewhat focus on my lap. My lungs are still protesting the bit of water that went down my air pipe, coughing violently to expel it.

It is during one of those coughs that my body tries to lurch forward, and I realize I can’t move. What the hell?

I shake my head from side to side to try to clear the blurriness from my vision and look back down at my lap to see rope wrapped above my knees. Continuing my examination, I also see rope tied around my waist. My brain is still seriously foggy, as if I have had one too many drinks on top of a few joints. My spidey senses tell me this rope stuff isn’t good, though. Somehow, I don’t think Ethan is that kinky.

Another splash of frigid cold water hits my face, knocking the air right out of me, forcing me to start sputtering all over again. The first batch of ice cold water was not cool. The second batch in addition to the rope tells me I’m in big, big trouble. But why? I can’t seem to remember shit, and that’s definitely not a good sign.

My next clue that I’m up shit’s creek without a paddle is the cruel laugh that sounds off in front of me. “Looks like the chloroform is finally wearing off.”

They drugged me? I blink foggily at my lap, trying to remember why I’m in this situation.

Glancing up, I see two guys dressed in black. Their faces don’t look familiar, and no names come to mind. They both have olive-toned skin and dark hair that hint at an Italian heritage. The one closest to me is holding a bucket and has hazel eyes. The man slightly behind him and to his left has chocolate brown eyes that almost look black. Both of them carry a cruel gleam in their gaze that sends a shiver down my spine. Or maybe it’s the cold water. It is hard to tell when you are cold and scared as hell.

The man with the bucket drops it at his feet and lunges toward me. I try to kick out to stop him, only to realize my ankles are tied down to the chair. Then I desperately jerk my hands to cover my face and protect myself but realize my hands are tied behind me, and I can’t move at all.

The back of his hand connects with the side of my face, whipping my head to the side. A metallic taste seeps onto my tongue, and my face starts to throb.

A little while ago, I was about to sit with my sister on a park bench in Heaven. Now I’m tied down to an office chair in Hell. Tears well up in my eyes and leak down my face as a sob catches in my throat.

Fingers snap in front of my face to get my attention. “Look this way, puttana,” a malicious voice growls.

I don’t want to give into his demands, but I need to find out why I’m here. An enemy of the Hellions maybe? No, thinking of Suzie on that bench jogs a memory of her tied to a tree, cut to ribbons, and being tortured to death. My brain is slowly coming back online, and memories of the trouble Suzie was in start to infiltrate the fogginess.

Almost drunkenly, I raise my head to look at the man who just slapped the shit out of me. Was he one of the men who killed my Suzie Sunshine? With whatever it is they have drugged me with, I’m having a hard time thinking and remembering things.

He roughly grabs my chin. “What did your zoccola of a sister tell you?”

Utterly confused, I slur, “My what of a sister?”

This earns me another slap to the face. My head whips in the other direction this time. Now both sides of my face throb in pain.

He grabs my chin again and forces me to look at him as he screams, “Your bitch of a sister, what did she tell you?”

“Suzie?” I ask, still befuddled.

Letting go of my chin, he reaches forward with both hands, grasping my shoulders, and shakes me violently. “Yes! Suzie, you puttana! What did she tell you while she was staying with you?” he roars in impatience.

He is shaking me so hard it jars everything, including the chair I’m in. My neck and shoulders light up in excruciating pain, and a vague memory of someone grabbing my hair and pulling my head back harshly pops into my mind.

A scream rips from me because of the agony, and he stops shaking me.

His partner laughs as he slaps me for a third time. “Talk or things will get much worse for you!”

“I don’t know anything, asshole!” I scream back in frustration.

My answer earns me another slap. I taste even more blood on my tongue. My teeth must have cut open the inside of my mouth. It is starting to pool on my tongue, but I refuse to swallow it.

“Don’t lie to me, biker whore. I know your sister was living with you before we caught up to her. Now tell me what she told you and where she hid it!”

At this point, I’m so confused my head is spinning. Or maybe that’s still the drugs in my system. It’s hard to tell after being kidnapped, drugged, and slapped around.

I have no idea what this jackass is talking about. The only thing I do know is that I’m tired of being hit, and I am going to punch him in the nuts the first chance I get.

Utterly overwhelmed by the situation, something inside me snaps. Although I know it’s a bad idea to mouth off to the man who has me tied down and is slapping me silly, I still can’t seem to help myself.

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. The only thing I can see that you’re missing is the brain God gave you, because your head is stuck so far up your own ass you can’t find it!”

His backhanded slap lands across my face before I even have the chance to flinch away. Dark spots appear in my vision, and internally, I search for a safe place to go to in order to survive this.

My mind goes back to Ethan’s place.

“Come on, Hammer; choke it down. It’s good for you,” I tease him as I swallow the green juice.

“Drill Sergeant, I get that you love busting balls, but I’m a grown-ass man, and I eat my vegetables, not drink them.”

I laugh. “Come on; you know it’s gotta be better than chow hall food or an MRE.
”

“Hey now, don’t knock it till you’re in the middle of nowhere, starving.”

With my hand on my hip, I give him back a taste of his own. “Hey now, don’t knock it till you’re halfway through today’s workout and not feeling like you gotta puke for once.”

Puking. God, I could so do that right now. So much for holding onto a happy moment.

The second kidnapper laughs again. “She’s probably lying. Get your knife out and start to fillet her like we did her sister. I guarantee you, cugino, if you start slicing and dicing, that bitch will tell us where the thumb drive is.”

Fury engulfs me, and I defy him the only way I can. I spit my mouthful of blood out in a spray that lands on both men. “Fuck you, asshole.”

The man with the dark eyes isn’t laughing anymore. It is totally the opposite now as he steps forward, pushes his partner aside, and punches me in my gut. It feels like he has shoved my guts halfway up my body. I want to curl up in a little ball. No such luck, though.

I heave a few times, wondering, if I puke on his shoes, will he just go ahead and kill me? Somehow, I doubt I would be that lucky. He has already admitted they were the ones who killed my Suzie, and I saw what they did to her.

I have to try to keep myself alive until Ethan gets here with help.

“Suzie didn’t say anything. I have no idea what you’re talking about. I swear.”

One of them snorts a laugh. “Right. And I’m the tooth fairy. Try again, bitch.”

Another slap across the face. More blood in my mouth. This time, I’m not brave enough to spit it out at them. Instead, I start to cry as I swear up and down that my sister didn’t tell me a damn thing.

I’m so scared I want to puke my guts up. Pee my pants. Cry a fucking river. Anything and everything that might make these two realize I’m a human being who deserves to live.

Terror is such an overwhelming emotion that I’m afraid I might actually die of a heart attack before the men kill me.

A million things are running through my mind as each slap they deliver sends both a bit of clarity and a whole lot of misery through my body. Is Ethan okay? I remember hearing the thud of his body hitting the stairs as he raced to try to save me.