Wild Ways (31 page)

“Yeah. My cousin’s friend’s brother is a Devil Deuce and he has an invite to this Ball. He had to guard it last year, prove himself to the club. He paid three thousand to play. Said he’d forfeit for double that.”

“Did he mention where it’s being held?”

“No, wouldn’t rat them out. He felt that selling his ticket would bring him less hell.”

“Hook us up.”

“Let’s meet at a club not far from where this place is. Least that’s what he said.” He rattled off the name of a club and address. “He wants cash.”

“Is this guy on the up-and-up?”

“My cousin’s friend vouches for him. He thinks the guy’s having second thoughts about the whole thing. Rape. That’s some serious shit. Sounds like he’s not too broken up about parting with his invite. Me and my boys will meet you there.”

“Your boys?”

“I brought my club. You don’t think you’re riding in there alone, do you?”

* * *

Mollie found her sister at the end of the sections. Or rather, she was brought right to her. The number 12 was posted nearby. Her lovely, sweet sister in a black leather outfit out of a BDSM movie. She was kneeling, bowing, already looking beaten and diminished. Her hands were cuffed, chained to a bolt in the wall.

Mollie’s stomach churned, but she managed to shout, “Di!”

Di jerked her head up, puzzlement playing over a face that had aged ten years in the last two months. Black mascara ran down her cheeks. Confusion quickly turned to horror. “Mollie. No. Please tell me I’m hallucinating, or that I’ve finally gone crazy.”

The men dropped Mollie unceremoniously next to her sister. “Two for one,” a man said with a snicker.

Mollie threw herself at Di, though she couldn’t hold her as she wanted to do. “This isn’t how I’d hoped to find you.”

“Oh, M,” Di cried. “You were looking for me?”

“Ever since your Facebook page died, and especially after that call.”

Di started bawling, guilt lacing her voice when she said, “What are you doing here? They’re going to—”

“Shh, I know.” She couldn’t stand to hear the words.

One of the men whipped out a huge hunting knife. Her heartbeat plunged. They wouldn’t just kill her … would they? He knelt down and cut the cable ties looped around her ankles. With a gap-toothed smile and stale beer breath, he said, “Can’t have your legs all closed up, now can we?”

He and the others thought that was hilarious. Mollie fought to not break down in hysterics.
Remember Julian’s calm
.

Julian. They’d taken him off to kill him. A hot pain in her heart made her think the cretin had stabbed her after all.

He’s Houdini
.

And bound, injured, and surrounded by armed men
.

The man grabbed Mollie’s hands and looped new cable ties through Di’s handcuffs. Mollie watched with dread as the plastic tie clamped on. She fought the scream that rose up her throat. They liked when the women screamed.
Don’t give them that
.

“Party starts in a few minutes,” the gap-toothed guy said as he headed toward the front.

Di started to cry. Mollie pressed her cheek against hers. “Shhh. I love you.”

“I did this to you,” Di said. “It’s because of me that you’re here. We’re both going to die because of me.”

“I have backup.”

“The police?” Di whispered.

“No. Men from a private security firm. These guys are kick-ass and they don’t have to follow the letter of the law.”

Di blinked the tears from her eyes. “And they’re here?”

“Julian is. He’s …” How to describe him? “Strong and yet tender and everything wonderful. He’s a retired SEAL.”

“Oh, thank God. Where is he?”

“Well, they caught him and took him to the other side of the wall.”

Di’s face fell. “They’re going to kill him.”

“No.” Mollie shook her head. “He’s good, Di. They call him Houdini. I have to believe …” she faltered. “I have to believe he’ll get out of it.”

“And the rest of these guys? Where are they?”

“I don’t know. There are three of them, and I’m sure they’re looking for us right now. Oh, and Brick! He’s been helping.”

Di’s smile was faint, then disappearing altogether. “But these kick-ass men don’t even know where we are?”

Mollie shook her head. “I have faith.”

Di tilted her head. “I’ve never heard you say anything like that before. You’re always so cynical, skeptical. And me, I’m the stupid one who believes everyone who says they love her.” Her laugh was bitter, broken.

“Julian, he makes me want to believe. He’s a good man. Way too good to drag down with me and my baggage. But I know he’ll do everything in his power to find us.”

Music that had been in the background suddenly blared from speakers, then lowered again. One man’s voice rose above the music. “Gentlemen, it’s time to get this party started. As we did last year, you will buy tickets for the women you would like to,
uh,
entertain
. The only rule is, leave her alive for the next guy. At least until the end of the party.” His harsh laughter felt like a razor scratching across her skin. “Let the fun begin!”

* * *

Julian studied his surroundings as they carried him around the back of the wall. A channel of water ran between this tract of land and another razed tract. Four guys carried him, their big hands gripping his legs and chest. Damon hadn’t noticed that Julian’s bound hands were now in front of him. That was good.

They’d used two cable ties, looped together as cuffs. They were tight, cutting into his skin. That was the least of his body aches. Pain throbbed throughout, though he didn’t think anything was broken or crushed inside. He bent his finger up to touch his watch. One of his uncles was a watchmaker, and Julian had commissioned him to put some special features in this watch. He’d picked the cuff his brother had clamped on him with the pin hidden in the band. But since these weren’t regular cuffs, he needed the small knife. Not easy to maneuver out as he was jostled, with these idiots stumbling over the uneven ground. The hell with it. Risk had chewed through one of these things. Julian went to work on his.

He needed to concentrate on his task, but thoughts of Mollie on the other side of that wall kept pushing in. His heart dropped out at the thought of her being raped, brutalized.
Focus on right here, right now
.

Someone big was running up to them. Chains jingled, which meant it was another patch. Of course, if it had been Risk or Sax, Julian wouldn’t have heard them at all. He had no idea where his cell phone was, could only hope that these
bichos
had taken it with them so Chase could zero in on him. Julian craned his neck but couldn’t see from his angle.

“I’m finishing him now,” the newcomer said, huffing breathlessly. Out-of-shape newcomer.

Scotch, Julian thought. He was more concerned about what he’d said. That was bad.

“Who says?” one of the other men asked.

“Crimson. I talked him into getting rid of him immediately. I don’t know who this guy is, but he’s bad news.”

“Uh, there are five of us. He’s tied and bound. How bad can he be?”

“Especially after we beat the hell out of him,” another guy said. “Dude’s gotta pay for killing Rifle. He was my brother.”

“He’s mine,” Scotch said. “Check with Crimson, he said so. But you can have a piece of him. I respect that.”

Great. They were doling out who could help kill him.

“Hey, Crim,” another guy said. “You letting Scotch finish this guy? … But if he killed any King, we should all get to reap vengeance … yeah, okay.” He sounded dejected. Poor guy, wasn’t going to be able to have his piece of Julian. “Crim’s letting these two finish him,” he announced. “Special vengeance.”

“I guess that’s fair. I heard he tore up your chapters pretty bad.”

“Two guys down, one shot up bad, and two bikes damaged,” Scotch said from a few inches away from Julian’s head. “And Edge.” His voice stretched thin on the name.

There was some angry mumbling and head shaking. Julian kicked off one of his shoes. He had a feeling he was going into the water after all.

“What was that?” one guy asked.

“Don’t see anything,” another said.

“Okay, drop him here,” Scotch said.

Julian fought the body’s natural reaction to tense, the same way he’d done when the van had come to an abrupt stop. Tensed muscles caused more injury. As he dropped, he kicked off his other shoe. At least the ground was softer than asphalt. He hadn’t chewed through the plastic yet, despite the fact that his teeth ached from the effort.

A steel-toed shoe rammed him in the side, and Julian gasped as pain rocketed through him. He breathed through it, in and out, in and out. He’d survived worse.

Scotch knelt down, his leering face sinister in the dim light. “You’re going to tell us where your friend is.”

Uh, no, I’m not
. “I haven’t heard from him since you fought him.”

“Yeah, funny thing about that,” Scotch said in a low voice that held no humor. “I stuck him, threw him in the dumpster, and then you threw Edge on top of him. Of course, I didn’t know it was Edge, since you were wearing his colors.” Scotch punched him in the side of the head. “And because I thought it was you and him in there, I shot into the bin to make sure you both were dead,” he continued. “But when the boys climbed in to get rid of your bodies, we discovered Edge. And the other guy wasn’t there.”

Thank you, bulletproof vest
. Julian’s own vest might help keep him alive, but not if Scotch shot him in the head.

“I haven’t heard from him.” True.

“Grab one of his legs, Rancid,” Scotch ordered, reaching for the other. “Let’s give him a dunking and see if he has more to say when his life passes in front of his eyes.”

Rancid. His body odor made it clear how he’d gotten his nickname. They hauled him to the edge of the seawall, where water slapped against the concrete.

“Dude must be scared shitless,” one of the guys said with a chuckle. “He’s not even fighting.”

Julian knew fighting them at this point would be a waste of energy. His whole body ached from the earlier beating, and he sure didn’t need any more injuries. Something that might incapacitate him, for instance.

“ ’Member that guy we drowned?” Rancid said to someone behind him. “We kept holding him under until he stopped thrashing, then we’d bring him up and let him revive. Did that about, what, twenty times?” He chuckled, sick son of a bitch.

“Sounds good to me,” Scotch said. “Maybe he’ll be willing to talk after the tenth time.”

Julian inhaled and slowed his heartbeat. Hands gripped his ankles, then lowered him into the cold, murky water. He let his hands fall over his head so they went in first. The moment they hit, he started working his arms, twisting to put pressure against the
nick he’d made in the plastic tie. It would look like your standard struggling. The tie broke, and he bent his body up, latched on to the arms gripping him, and jerked them into the water.

They splashed, trying to grab him, but he was in his element now. He found the back of Scotch’s head and smashed it into the seawall again and again until he stopped moving. Rancid had swum away. When Julian surfaced, only up to his nose to breathe, he saw the guy reaching up to his comrades.

“Get me out of here! And shoot that son of a bitch!”

“We can’t shoot, Rancid. Crimson said no gunshots. There are people living not far away.”

“I meant with the Taser.”

“I’ve got a can on my piece,” another guy said.

Julian submerged again, swimming toward Rancid as he scrambled up the rough wall. The
whumps
of bullets sounded through the water.

Julian lunged up and grabbed Rancid by his waist, pulling him down and toppling one of the guys helping him into the water. He screamed like a little girl as he plunged in.

Julian came up behind Rancid, wrapped his arm around his head, and snapped his neck. The third guy was screaming, “Get me out of here!”

Julian had to swim like a dolphin, moving his legs as one. It only took one powerful thrust to reach the screamer. Someone was still shooting into the water, but Julian was too close to one of their guys to worry about getting hit. He jerked the guy beneath the water and gave his neck the same kind of twist. Then he bobbed to the surface.

“I can’t swim,” he called in a choking voice, trying to sound panicked like the guy he’d just killed.

Two sets of hands latched on to his wrists. The moment they pulled him atop the seawall, he bent his bound legs and kicked the one closest to him into the other one. They both hit the ground, and Julian grabbed the gun that fell from the first guy’s hand as he’d flown backward. He felt along the barrel, ascertaining that this was the one with the
suppressor. As the men struggled to their feet, Julian shot one, then the other. They both fell back.

Even in the dark, Julian could easily extract the tiny knife in his watch. He sliced the cable ties from his ankles, then removed the one that dangled from his wrist. Stripping out of his wet socks, he searched the other guy and found his gun and the Taser, tucking both into his waistband. Damn, no extra cartridges for the Taser, though. Then he pushed them into the water. He could pass for a biker in the dark, but even if he donned one of their vests, he’d never pass in this select crowd in the lighted area. Especially sopping wet.

He tried to picture what the corridor on the other side of this wall looked like.
Where Mollie is
. He blinked, forcing himself to focus. Because this guts-falling-out feeling wasn’t going to help him save her.

The wall seemed to go on forever. There were bushes growing here and there. Enough to maybe give him cover if he came in from the other end. He checked the magazines of the two guns he’d appropriated. One was full, the one with the silencer nearly empty. He transferred the full cartridge to the silenced gun. His shirt clung to him, wet and heavy, and he stripped out of it. He ran, his bare feet hitting the occasional rock or chunk of concrete. No time to find his shoes.

Crimson was using only the back portion of the corridor for his sick little party. Closer to the street, there were no lights or sounds. Julian looked up at the wall, some twelve feet high. Smooth, not a handhold in sight. Even if he climbed to the top of the wall, he’d be easy to spot.