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“That’s why Skeeter and Red are up ahead scouting it out. Hopefully they don’t fuck up and get caught.”
“They won’t. They’re the best, you know that. We both trained them.”
“I can’t fucking be sure of anything anymore.”
“Crash might have been a motherfucking traitor, but it doesn’t mean all of your men are, Dodger.”
“Not my problem anymore. That will fall to you.”
“Will you fucking quit talking like that? Are you really so damn eager to die?”
“Fuck no. But I’ve told you before—”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that shit. You’ll excuse me if I try to keep your sorry ass alive.”
“As long as Torrent is your number one priority.” I shrug.
“She always has been,” Wolf says and I don’t respond.
I have a lot of shit on my mind, but I do know Wolf will take care of my little girl. I’m not worried about that. I just wish I could be here for her too. My skin feels like it’s burning. I look down at my watch. The time I was told to be here is close. I’m going to have to get moving. They’ll be looking for my guns and weapons. I’m going to be brought to them like a lamb to the slaughter. I have a couple of surprises though, and maybe if luck is on my side it will be enough to survive this—or at least for my baby girl to survive.
“She’s in there, Dodger,” Skeeter says and I look up to see him and Red coming my way. “They have her in a fucking crate in the back of the building.”
“She’s alive?” I ask, the thing that matters the most causing my heart to turn over in my chest.
“She is. We couldn’t see her that good, but she’s moving, Dodger.”
I close my eyes as relief sweeps through me.
“Then I guess it’s show time. You guys get in position.”
“Dodger—”
“Save it, Red. Wolf already tried to talk me out of it and it’s not happening. I’m going in front and I’ll be the distraction. You guys have only one job and that’s to go in the back and save my girl.”
“Damn it—”
“Enough!” I growl, my frustrations boiling over. “I’m done discussing this shit. You know your job. Do it and I’ll do mine.”
I take off walking, leaving my club behind me. They don’t matter anymore—nothing does.
Nothing but Torrent.Torrent“Wakey-wakey,” I hear him yell before the top comes off of my crate. God, I hate him. I can see better this morning—not exactly clear, but I can make out faces. For instance, the guy grabbing me and pulling me from the crate is as ugly as I imagined he was. Most of his features are blurry, but I can make out his beard, which is bushy and unkempt. His eyebrows are much the same and his eyes are small and even though I can’t focus on them I know that they are as cold as the rest of him.
“Ow!” I cry when he grabs me by the hair, pulling it.
“You got a date with your daddy,” he growls and fear grips my heart so tightly I can’t breathe.
“Please, don’t bring my dad into this. You don’t have to—”
“Good thing you’re pretty because you sure are stupid as fuck. This has always been about your daddy, you bitch.”
I let him drag me, I don’t bother fighting—not now. I try my best to keep my head clear because I know I’m going to need it soon. He drags me to the wall that faces the front entrance and thankfully pushes an old tattered T-shirt over my naked body. It’s not much—but I’m thankful for it.
My eyes are watering, but I can clearly make out a bright red double door. The man brings his knee up and plants it into my stomach. I go down instantly, gasping as the wind leaves my body. Once I hit the floor, he grabs one of my wrists, pulling it to a chair. Then he slaps a shackle on my wrist. I yank it, trying to get away, but I can’t. It’s attached to the leg of the chair. It’s not like the chair is lightweight either. It’s heavy and big enough that two people could probably fit into it. I pull again and again, hoping something is off and I can get free. The man punches me in the face and I instantly feel blood begin to seep from my lip. I go down, the world moving too swiftly and the pain colliding with nausea.
“Dodger’s walking up the dock,” another voice says.
“Please,” I start, wanting to beg for my dad’s life. I’d be willing to promise anything. I don’t want my dad to die because of me.
“I really like it when you beg,” the man laughs. He tightens his hand on my chin, lifting my head up, pulling me to him. My face is inches from him and he’s leering—even through my bad vision and panic I can see that. “Give me a kiss. If you’re good enough I might make you my pet,” he says and his breath washes over me. With all the other odors around me I shouldn’t be able to smell it as much as I do, but it’s so strong it makes me sick. His teeth are black, as if he spends his time doing Meth. His bad skin would indicate that too. I can’t even pretend to go along with him. Instead, I spit at him. He slaps me hard, my face jerking to the side with the force of the hit.
