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“He sounds great.”
Just then, there was a commotion, and a man who Esme didn’t recognize burst into the shipping container. He was carrying a walkie-talkie — the same model as the one Kevin had forced between Sophia’s hands.
“Say you’re alive.” The man sad, gruffly. From the walkie-talkie, she caught snatches of a voice she recognized very well.
“Esme? Sweetheart?”
“Daddy! I’m here! I’m alive! It’s Kevin, he t—”
There was a ringing, painful smack as the man with the walkie-talkie slapped her across the face. “Mouth shut, cunt,” he said, before wrenching the walkie-talkie away and stepping back outside.
Esme tasted blood. He’d been there — right there on the walkie-talkie, and she hadn’t managed to talk to him. How could she be so stupid?
Kevin stepped forward and put the tub down on the ground in front of her. “I know this is horrible for you, sweet thing. But you have to trust me — it’s just a little bit of hardship and then we’ll be alone together. Forever.” He reached inside his dirty denim jacket and pulled out an envelope.
“What’s that?” She felt moisture on her chin. Blood trickled down onto the floor.
“Tickets,” his eyes widened. “To Costa Rica. For you and me. We’ll be gone forever — to paradise. We’ll eat lychees and read tarot to one another under the stars.”
Esme’s pulse pounded. What was going on here? This had to be about more than just her. Who would do something like this to Rainer?
“I’m not going.”
The next smile on his lips was sickening. “You are, babygirl. Whether you like it or not. Although I promise, eventually, you’ll like it. You’ll have no choice.” Then he kicked the tub over to her and closed the door.
Darkness enveloped her, then she sobbed like a child.
The instructions were simple. An unrecognizable voice on the walkie-talkie spelled it out for Rainer.
The voice gave him an address — it was a warehouse out of town, near an old zinc mine at North Creek. It was even further out of the city than Albany, but the road was similar. The night was dark, and his lone hog cut an isolated silhouette as he swept toward his destination.
They said he had to come to the address alone, to talk. That was it. Just talk. He couldn’t help but feel as though there was something more at stake, though. Something terrible.
Last time he was out here, he was helping to scatter Marcus’ ashes. Times were different now. He felt as though he was on his way to another funeral. One that had the potential to be even more life-changing than the first.
The drive was long, and he was anxious the whole way. He had to keep telling himself that if they wanted her dead, she’d be dead already. He’d heard her voice. That had to count for something.
Eventually, he pulled up to the warehouse. In the dark, he could make out almost nothing. Somewhere in the distance, he could have sworn that he made out the sound of engines. Then, the sound stopped.
Showtime.
As he approached, he was met by two men, both with guns, both with grim smiles.
It was only then that he recognized their cuts. Death Division. Fuck. This had just got much, much worse.
He should have grabbed his phone, called in a warning. But, of course, he couldn’t. All he could do was pray, and hope that fate had something miraculous in store.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Sometimesinlife,itfelt as though you had no control over anything that happened to you. Like you were just a speck of dust caught on the wind.
When Rainer stepped into that warehouse, that was the way he felt. He began to suspect that no matter how he’d acted over the past few weeks, he’d still be right here: looking at his babygirl tied up, feeling as though the club he loved would fall about in tatters, terrified that all of it was because of him.
“You know this isn’t the way I wanted it, right?”
He was getting tired of Dog’s speeches. He’d been only mildly surprised to see him at the warehouse. As soon as he realized that Dog’s motorcycle had been used as some kind of surveillance device, he knew that there were no lengths the man wouldn’t go to in order to take control of the Drifters. But only now, when it was staring him in the face, did he understand why.
“It really isn’t.” The voice came from a TV screen that was mounted on the wall behind Dog. The image on the screen clearly was taken from inside a cell. But it was the plushest, most luxurious prison cell that Rainer had ever seen.
