Wild Ways (30 page)

“I have my own firm. JR Security. My buddy and I started it after we got out of the military.”

Damon swung the gun her way. “And she hired you?”

“Dude, lower the muzzle. No need to point with the damned thing. She didn’t hire us. We—I—sort of took her on as a client against her will.”

Damon fell silent for a moment. He turned and made a call. “Scotch, did the guy you tangled with have a headset? Just checking … Yeah, we have the other son of a bitch. We’re almost there.” He settled back in his seat, apparently satisfied with the story.

Did Chase know where Julian was? Was Rath all right? So many questions, but she didn’t dare ask them. Julian’s bound hands were now in front of him. He was twisting them, though she couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing.

Houdini. That was his other nickname. He could get out of anything. Hope surged again. If they had enough time …

The van slowed. She lifted her head to see a fence stopping their continuation on the street. But a man in the familiar black vest standing at the center of the gate opened it. The pack of bikes went through first, they followed, and he closed it again. It was darker here, no streetlights, houses, or other structures. Just open land, which didn’t make sense in a city as built up as Chicago.

The road was paved, and in the moonlight she saw concrete pads for what had once been buildings, she guessed. To the left was a long concrete wall, about one story
tall and crumbling apart in places. Lights glowed from the other side of the wall. Something had occupied all this land once. They followed the road to where it terminated in a cul-de-sac. Two roads snaked off it and they took the one made of dirt.

“This is the perfect spot,” Damon said to the driver. “I know Crimson likes to move the Ball every year, but I’d keep holding it here.”

“At least until they develop it into some neighborhood shopping area,” the driver said.

“But they’ve been talking about that for years. I guess someday it’ll happen. But if it’s still vacant next year, I’d vote for a revisit.”

With Damon faced forward, Julian had maneuvered to the rear door.

“Hey! Lay the fuck down!” Damon barked from the front.

Julian slowly lowered himself to the floorboard. The expression on his face, though, was far from complacent. He was plotting. Scheming.

The van slowed to a stop next to the long wall. Through a gap, where it had crumbled away completely, she saw two men stringing up lanterns along the top edges of the wall. Di was here somewhere. Several men came forward, and she recognized the bikers who’d pummeled Julian. Including Scotch. They approached the driver’s window and started talking.

“Scratch the screaming,” Julian whispered. “No one’s going to hear you. The wind is blowing eastward, and I don’t see any civilization that way. All I see is lake.”

“How … never mind.” He was a SEAL, accustomed to being aware of his surroundings, of figuring a way out of any situation. She hoped.

As the men got out, Julian asked, “Can you swim?”

“Yes, I grew up on the ocean.”

“Good, because you need to be ready to make a run for it. If I say ‘go,’ you run toward the water.”

The prospect of that tightened her throat. “But we’re tied up.” They’d sink like stones!

“We had to do this in BUD/S. Swimming with our hands and feet tied. I’ll hold on
to you and keep your face above water. I’m Aquaman, too. Remember, that’s what SEALs are about. But we need them to cut these things off our ankles.”

The back doors opened, and they were jerked out of the van by their feet. She stumbled. Hands roughly settled her. Yes, the breeze was brisk here, though she had no idea which way it was blowing. Music flowed from somewhere. Voices, a man’s laughter. A woman’s scream that petered out as quickly as it had started. That shot through Mollie’s body like an electric shock. Was it Di?

The lake, as wide open as the ocean, was only a few yards away. Moonlight glittered on the ruffled surface, diamonds on black velvet.

“Welcome to the Kings’ Ball,” a big, blocky guy said with a grin, his gold tooth catching the light. “I’m the King. King Crimson.” That grin disappeared, and he grabbed Julian’s shirt and hauled him up to his face. “Where’s your friend?”

He must be talking about Rath. And if they didn’t know, it meant his team had returned and retrieved him.

Julian shrugged. “Have no idea. Last I saw, he was back at Hidden Assets.”

“He says he and the other guy own a security firm,” Damon said.

Crimson narrowed his eyes. “We’re gonna find your friend.” He turned to the men on his right. “Take him around the back side of the wall and make sure he’s secure.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ve got thirty minutes before the festivities begin.”

“Wait.” Damon put his hand to the back of each of their heads. “These two should have one last kiss.” He smashed their faces together, laughing.

Julian had put his hands out, so her nose didn’t crunch against his cheek quite as hard as Damon had intended. Still, the impact sent pain through her face.

“Take them,” Crimson said.

Julian fell forward, a move she thought was calculated based on their earlier conversation. “I can’t walk,” he said.

“We’ll carry you,” one of the guys said. Four of them hoisted Julian, and two lifted her up and carried them like canoes.

She watched that dark water, both relieved and sorry that their watery escape plan
had been thwarted. As they came around the edge of the wall, she saw that two walls formed a long, roofless corridor. She shifted to see the interior, lit by those lanterns.
Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God
. Her heartbeat ground to a halt, fear pulsing cold through her being.

Women in the same skimpy kind of costume she wore were in what looked like stations that depicted a different kind of fantasy. A sick, twisted fantasy. And each station bore a handwritten sign with a number. Makeshift curtains surrounded each area for privacy.

One of the two women in view was dressed as Alice in Wonderland, tied into a chair contraption suspended from a bar that stretched across the walls. Another was in a sexy nurse’s costume and strapped to a surgical table. Terrifyingly, there was a tray of instruments next to her. It was Lilliana’s pale face that stared up into the night sky, eyes fixed in fear.

The men carried Mollie down the center of the stations, where she took in more tableaus. Oriental décor with a woman dressed as a geisha. A virginal sacrifice in tribal gear. A schoolgirl, old-fashioned desk, and … Katie! In that same outfit Mollie had seen her in, braids, and tears. She was bent over that desk, struggling to free herself from the cuffs. The desk had to be anchored to the ground; it wasn’t giving an inch. Lying nearby were rulers, paddleboards, and other implements of punishment.

Katie looked up at Mollie’s whimper, despair in her eyes. More so when she saw who was joining the party. The breeze whipped loose strands of her hair across her cheeks and her lipstick-smeared mouth.

Plastic tarps covered the ground around them.
To catch the blood
. A violent shudder racked her. But where was Di? Had she come all this way in vain? And what were they doing to Julian? He might be Houdini, Spiderman, and Aquaman, but he wasn’t really a magician. And it was going to take magic to get them out of this now.

* * *

Scotch stiffened when Crimson came up beside him as they watched the guys carry off their cargo. Crimson slapped him on the back so hard that his teeth rattled. “Good job covering up your mistake.”

Like Scotch could have foreseen the trouble Birdy had caused. He swallowed back his ire and said thanks. It was always better to keep it simple with Crimson. “But I don’t like keeping the guy around. What are we going to do with him?”

“His friend’s still in the wind. And we can’t be absolutely sure there aren’t more of them. I’m thinking we should torture him and find out.” Crimson’s smile spread across his ugly mug. “Then dump him in the lake. Sink him good, like we’re going to do with the women when we’re done.”

“The sooner the better.”

“You scared of him, Scotch?” Crimson affected a girlish shiver, compounding the taunt in his voice. “Does he make you wet your pants?” He dropped the tone. “He’s unarmed, cuffed, and surrounded by patches. He’s not even fighting anymore. He’s given up.”

“That’s what bothers me. Most guys in that situation would be scared shitless. Not him. He’s got a cold edge to his eyes, calm and calculating. Why risk keeping him around?” Scotch flexed his fists. “Let me and the St. Louis guys finish him for what he’s done to our clubs. Then you can relax and enjoy yourselves.”

Crimson turned his narrowed eyes to Scotch. “You’re not a paying attendee. In fact, you’re the one who’s always squawking at Church that I shouldn’t be holding the Ball.”

Scotch nodded. “I’m looking out for the club, is all. I don’t want us exposed.”

Crimson’s big hand shot out and tightened around his throat. “You saying I’m
not
looking out for the club? Me, the president? The one who’s brought tens of thousands of dollars to our coffers?”

“No,” Scotch squeaked out. Yeah, he was, but he wasn’t going to press the point now. “Just … want … to be careful.”

Crimson released him. “Go, take care of the interloper. Then take a post by the
road.”

Damon stepped up beside them. “Problem?”

“Making sure Scotch here shows proper respect for leadership. Just to show what a great guy I am, I’m letting him and the St. Louis boys take care of the troublemaker now. I figure we shouldn’t take any chances, not tonight.”

Scotch fumed at Crimson’s pawning his advice off as his own. He held his tongue. Damon wasn’t going to back him up; he was Crimson’s right-hand man.

“Dude ain’t going anywhere, but I’m for getting rid of him now.” Damon nodded toward Scotch. “He wants to finish Mollie. He did spot her at the club, came all the way up to make sure she didn’t cause trouble. I say we let him, once the paying customers are done.”

Crimson frowned as he considered it. “If there’s anything left of her. You know, she’s worked hard to find her sister. Put her next to Birdy so she can watch. Double the torture, double the fun.”

Chase followed the cell phone’s signal to an area of town that did not look warm and welcoming. On the way, he had updated the police chief, unfortunately with a lot of noninformation. A possible abduction of a civilian who went into a strip club undercover. A J-man who was last known to be riding atop a van.

“All I can ask is that they keep a couple of area patrol cars on standby,” Chase told his two operatives. “Mostly it’s up to us.”

Risk and Sax nodded, unfazed. “Okay.”

He liked SEALs for their fortitude. They took what came, no complaints. Their ousting had been bad for them, but good for The Justiss Alliance.

“Just us and maybe fifty bikers?” Brick whined. “They’ll clean our clocks. Look, they’re already waiting for us.”

A small group was gathered in the vicinity of the phone’s signal. None of them wore vests, which Brick obviously noticed. “Whew, it’s not any patches.”

Chase rolled his eyes. He wasn’t sure if bringing Brick was a good idea. An additional fighting body would be helpful, especially one who knew the Kings. Other than that, he didn’t seem to have much in the way of balls.

“Brick, you ever killed someone?” Chase asked as he surveyed the crowd. No weapons, no fighting, only a group of people discussing something that had just happened.

“No. Ran some drugs, stripped a couple of stolen bikes. Broke up a few fights.”

Figures, Chase had to find the one nonviolent member of the Kings. “You willing to shoot someone to save your girlfriend?”

“Yes.” No hesitation. “I tried to knife one of my brothers. That’s how I got kicked out. They were trying to claim her.”

So he was motivated by jealousy. “And you can imagine what they’re going to do
to her tonight.”

“Yes. Can I have my piece back?”

Chase slid a look to Sax, who was sitting in the passenger seat. Sax subtly nodded. “Get his gun out of the case, Risk.”

He heard Risk opening the case that concealed their weapons. Risk had been tasked with keeping an eye on Brick.

“Let’s disperse and find out what happened.” Chase found a place to park. People were talking excitedly, using their hands to reenact some sort of altercation. He homed in on two young guys who seemed the most psyched while scanning the ground for Julian’s cell phone and headset. “Fill me in. We were down the street and saw something going on down here.”

“This old VW van comes to a screeching halt, and this dude goes flying off the roof. Then three biker dudes pull up and just beat the shit out of him.”

Chase’s chest tightened at the image that went with that. He kept his expression placid, something he’d learned in his former job. “That’s some sick business. Did anyone help him?”

“Hell, no,” the other guy said. “No one’s gonna get involved with those badasses. But it was over fast. They grabbed him, threw him in the van, and they were gone.” The guy pointed east.

“It was the Kings,” Brick said as he came up.

“Man, you’re cops,” the first guy said, moving back.

“No, I own a private security firm, and that ‘dude’ was one of my men.” He glanced over to see Risk holding up a cell phone. “Did anyone bother to call the cops?” Chase scanned the crowd, who had all suddenly lost their enthusiasm and was breaking up fast. “I’ll take that as a no.”

Chase nodded for his guys to return to the van. They had a direction. But not much else.

The phone was scraped up, but still working. Didn’t give them any more clues, though. Kansas’s “Hold On” started playing somewhere in the van. Had to be Mollie’s
phone. “Grab that, would you, Risk?”

A few seconds later, Risk handed him the phone. The screen read “Big Juan.” Chase answered. “This is Mollie’s phone. Julian here.”

“Oh. Hey. Is Mollie around?”

“She’s missing. With the Kings.” He wasn’t going to explain that Julian was, too. Mollie had only told him that if she didn’t answer, Julian was all right to talk to. Chase wanted to keep it simple. “You get anywhere?”