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“Give me a name. Someone to target,” I said and stroked the barrel of my gun unconsciously. Razor squared his shoulders again and clenched his jaws. He was pretending to struggle with giving away vital information…but we both knew what was going to happen. He was going to give me a name, just so that we could leave him and his MC alone. They needed more time to gather forces so they could retaliate against us. For the time being, they needed some space so they could lick their wounds in peace.
“Juan Castillo,” he said and my brows furrowed, my face turning rigid with confusion.
“What did you say?” I growled, and Razor shrugged his shoulders.
“Yeah, that’s his name. What a fucking loser,” Razor said, and some of his men joined him in a laugh like he had said something funny.
“Did you say, Juan Castillo?” I asked him, and Razor tilted his head to one side and smiled. He had noticed the wave of rage and confusion on my face.
“That name mean something to you, baby boy?” he asked, and Commando stepped in before things got out of hand. I had clenched my hand on the barrel of the gun, and I would have pulled it out and shot Razor right in the chest if Commando hadn’t interrupted us.
“Who is he? Why are you giving us his name?” Commando asked.
“He’s their leader. He’s the one who organized the whole thing for us, practically begged us to work with him. I tell ya, we did it because we felt sorry for him. Small time gang,” Razor said, with a smirk on his face.
“Yeah, sure, that’s what happened,” Commando rolled his eyes comically at Razor and turned to me, blocking my view of the man.
“Let’s get out of here and deal with this later, brother,” he said to me, and I realized that Commando had noticed the look of recognition on my face.
No more words were exchanged between us and the Black Skulls as we backed out of the bar. My mind was still reeling with the information. I could feel that familiar feeling of rage returning to my brain. Juan Castillo, the name kept ringing in my head.
Once outside, we all strode towards our bikes and Commando followed me.
“You know this guy?” he asked as I jumped on my bike in a hurry. I needed some time to think things over. This was information that wasn’t going to settle down easily.
“Yeah, I know him,” I said to Commando who tapped his fingers on my bike.
“Who is he? He’s not Valentina’s father, that much I know,” Commando said, and I nodded my head.
“He was one of the kids,” I said, and he crossed his brows.
“One of the kids…you mean, like you? One of the kids they used in the fighting rings?” he asked, and I revved up the gears of my bike and nodded my head.
“He was older than me, but yeah, he started off as me,” I said, and Commando stepped back, recognizing my desperate urge to ride away as fast as I possibly could.
“And he’s their leader now!” he remarked, and I stared at Commando some more. Maybe some other time, I might have told him what exactly Juan Castillo did to the other kids and me. Maybe then Commando would realize why I wasn’t surprised that he was their leader now, and how I knew the things the guy was capable of. But not tonight, tonight I needed to see Valentina.
If he was the one who was holding her captive, I didn’t even want to imagine the things he might have done to her.
I rode away, the sound of Juan’s blood-curdling mad laughter ringing in my ears. It would take me a lifetime to forget the things he liked to do. How he took punches at my jaw till he heard the sound of bones breaking. I was sixteen, and he couldn’t have been older than twenty, but he liked that distinct sound; bone crunching against bone and the sight of skin splitting open and blood gushing out.
Chapter 10
Valentina
“He made me watch the kids fighting,” I said in a quiet voice, trying to hold back the tears. The image was still stark in my mind, every time I shut my eyes, I could see it again. The kids, teenagers, lunging at each other. Monstrous men surrounding them like a hungry pack of wolves, goading them on to fight…to keep fighting.
I had my knees pulled up to my chin, as I sat on the bed in Moira’s guest room. I was wearing a pair of her pajamas and an old t-shirt, which she had so graciously offered. I didn’t think that Jesus would return that night, and I couldn’t go to sleep. The shock of everything that had happened was dissipatin
g, and sadness and fear were settling in. I knew I was exhausted, and I needed sleep for my body to recuperate, but I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t sleep.
So, when Jesus knocked on the bedroom door, I gasped, imagining that it was Juan or someone from the gang. They had found me! Instead, Jesus stepped in, and I watched his silhouette in the dark at the door.
He had come rushing to my bed side and knelt down. I had reached for his face, feeling his lips under my fingertips. Then he told me that he knew it was Juan who had kidnapped me.
Jesus was pacing the floor now, listening to what I was saying. I could see the rage bubbling up inside him with every word that left my lips.
“Did he have you tied?” he asked, spinning around to look at me again.
