Lock (Hell's Handlers MC Florida Chapter Book 5), page 22
Spec tilted his head and pursed his lips briefly before he shrugged. “Works for me.” He held out a fist, which Lock bumped with his own. “Let’s go get your woman back.”
“Hell yeah, let’s do this shit,” Jinx shouted with a whoop.
After Spec made sure they were all armed to the fucking teeth, they made their way outside to their bikes.
Sitting astride his motorcycle, Tracker grabbed Jo and planted a hard kiss on her lips.
“Be careful,” she whispered, grabbing his cut and shaking him. “I won’t be happy if you come home messed up.”
“Always. Love you, too, baby.” He kissed her again. Longer this time and with so much passion, Lock had to look away.
He’d wanted that—the intense connection they had. And he found it with Brenna. Nothing would stop him from getting her back. As he yanked his helmet on his head, he shoved all the other bullshit aside—guilt, worry, stress, his mountain of responsibilities. His son was safe in Harper’s arms. No one gave a shit that he’d struggled with drugs in the past. Continued grief over his sister’s death could wait a few hours. Everything took a back seat to the mission at hand.
The most crucial mission of his life.
Find and rescue Brenna.
Then bind her to him so fucking tight they were no longer two separate people.
“Let’s kick some motherfucking ass!” Jinx revved his engine loud enough to rumble the earth.
“Let’s ride!” Spec shouted.
Lock narrowed his eyes, let the fear and fury fire up his blood, and then joined the thunderous roar of his brothers on the road.
With each passing mile, his anticipation ramped until the sound of the wind whipping by battled the rush of blood in his ears. He’d never killed a man before and didn’t have the same bloodlust Spec did, but there was a first time for everything. If Oliver was responsible for giving Brenna one second of fear or pain, the bastard had seen his last sunset. Spec wouldn’t get the chance to kill him because Lock would be there first.
Forty long-assed minutes later, they parked their bikes in a public beach lot less than half a mile from Oliver’s parents’ house.
“You good?” Spec asked. “Head on straight?”
“No. My head’s totally fucked.”
Spec’s grin was borderline evil as he squeezed Lock’s shoulder. “Perfect. That’s what you need tonight. You’re taking the lead unless you’d rather me do it.”
He met Spec’s gaze. He didn’t often step back and let others fill his enforcer role, but the man knew how vital this moment was to Lock. How much he needed it.
“Thanks, brother.”
Spec scoffed. “Trust me when I say I’m looking forward to it.”
“You’re a sick fuck, you know that?”
“Damn straight,” Spec said with a laugh. “Let’s move.”
For a group of such large, pissed-off bikers, they moved with a surprisingly quiet stealth. Hopping the gated fence was as easy as climbing in and out of bed. It turned out that being hopped up on gallons of adrenaline made most physical feats simpler. They arrived at the end of a stone driveway leading to a monster-size house within minutes.
“Jesus, two people live in this monstrosity?” Jinx muttered, craning his neck to see the top of the house. “Fuckin’ why?”
“Because they can,” Tracker answered with a shrug. “Rich people do most shit just because they can.”
“Think she’s in there?” Lock asked.
Spec stepped in front of him and clasped the sides of Lock’s head. “In there or not, we’ll fucking find her, brother. This fucker knows where she is. Make him bleed.”
Lock gave a single nod.
Spec cuffed the side of his head and then grinned that same maniacal grin he’d had at the clubhouse. “Keep moving, boys.”
A television flickered from a first-floor window facing the front of the house—a dead giveaway to exactly where Oliver was.
“Like taking candy from a baby,” Jinx muttered. “Except your baby. He’s too smart to give up his candy.”
“You’re fucking nuts,” Tracker said with a laugh.
At any other time, Lock would have joined in. Tonight, he focused on the house as they stormed up the driveway.
He reached the giant black door with its gaudy brass knocker before his brothers. It was locked, of course, and too big to stomp open with his boot as he’d have loved to do. But thanks to his job, he always had a way in. He pulled his lock pick kit from his back pocket. He could do this shit in his sleep. Most people had no idea how easy it was for someone as skilled as him to open their locks. With a few fiddles of his tools, he had the door open in seconds flat. No cameras, no alarms, nothing sounded to alert Oliver to their presence.
Hell yes.
“Rich morons,” Jinx mumbled.
Always with the snark, that one.
Once in the house, he no longer gave a shit about being quiet. With his brothers at his back, he slammed the door open and thundered left toward the flickering television.
Oliver sat, feet up in a plush beige recliner. The second he saw six furious bikers descending on him, his eyes widened, and he scrambled backward. The recliner tipped, dumping him onto the floor. He didn’t miss a beat, clambering across the floor until Spec hopped onto the recliner like a kid on the playground.
“Don’t fucking move,” he barked, gun mere feet from Oliver’s stunned face. “He’s all yours, brother.”
Lock had his gun out and ready to fire. Just because he hadn’t used one in a real-life scenario didn’t mean he couldn’t or wouldn’t.
He strode to Oliver, planted a boot on the man’s chest, and flattened him to the floor. “Where the fuck is she?” he said with a deadly snarl as he felt the man’s ribs depress beneath his boot.
“C-can’t b-breathe.” Oliver gasped and clawed at Lock’s boot.
It’d be so easy to lean into that leg a little more and crush the man’s ribcage with a satisfying crunch.
After he tells you where Brenna is.
He counted to ten, letting the asshole feel the full effect of suffocation before he let up on the pressure a fraction.
“You better answer,” Spec said. “My finger’s getting tired over here.”
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I swear it.”
Boom.
The gunshot rang out half a second before Oliver jerked. His agonized scream had Jinx chuckling.
“Pussy,” he said.
Blood bloomed across the man’s right shoulder, soaking his white polo shirt.
“So much for letting me lead.” Lock glanced at Spec, who shrugged with a sheepish grin.
“Oops. My bad. You know how I get.”
Jinx barked a laugh.
Lock increased the pressure on the man’s chest again. This time, he swore he heard a crack. Another scream from Oliver confirmed it. There went a rib. Sweat broke out on the man’s forehead, and his skin had turned an ashen gray. Great and all, but they still didn’t know where Brenna was.
Lock bent closer to Oliver, who cried and moaned. Spittle dripped from the corner of his mouth. “Where the fuck is she?”
“I didn’t do it,” he wailed. “She wasn’t supposed to be there.” He sounded near delirious from the pain.
“Where?” He slapped the side of Oliver’s face hard. “Where wasn’t she supposed to be?”
“T-they’ll kill me.”
“The fuck you think we’re gonna do?” Spec asked a second before another shot rang out. This time, the bullet lodged itself in Oliver’s hip.
He screamed again. “Stop! Stop! No more,” he sobbed. “I’ll tell you. No more.”
Fucking finally.
Lock removed his boot from the man’s chest. Oliver sucked in a huge breath, then moaned and cried harder as his ribs expanded.
“Talk or you get another,” Spec ordered, not an ounce of sympathy present.
Not that Lock had any, either.
“This one might hit your tiny dick.”
“I owed money,” Oliver whispered.
Jinx snorted. “Yeah, we know, Ollie. That’s how all this shit started.”
“No. More. A lot of money.”
Lock tilted his head. “How much?”
“Quarter million. They said they’d erase my debt if I helped them.”
Fuck. This wasn’t going to be good. “Helped with what?”
Oliver’s pained gaze met his. “Getting the women.”
His blood ran cold, and he staggered back.
Spec leaped off the recliner. “Explain fucking faster,” he shouted, placing the barrel of the gun in the center of Oliver’s forehead.
“Okay, okay. Um, they have an auction beneath the club. They get the women there. Drug their drinks and take them downstairs. Buyers come and pay a fuckton of money for a few hours with them. No rules. They can do whatever they want as long as the women don’t die.”
Lock gagged.
“You fucking piece of shit,” Ty spoke up for the first time.
“I owed so much money,” Oliver whispered as though that could justify participating in human trafficking.
“How’d you get Brenna?” Lock asked in a voice he barely recognized.
“She came by the club. It’s the same place I played poker. I never told her where it was, but she overheard me once and showed up all pissed off. I’m guessing she wanted to talk about the lawsuit.
Lock doubled over, planting his hands on his knees as bile rose in his throat.
Fuck.
“What club?” Spec asked in a voice so deadly Lock shivered.
“Stray.”
“Hmm, swanky. Let’s go, boys,” Spec announced, but he didn’t move away from Oliver.
Lock knew exactly where that club was. They could be there in ten minutes. He turned and ran toward the door.
Before he made it out of the house, he heard Spec’s voice once again.
“How many women did you get for them?”
“S-seven,” Oliver said, shame thick in his voice.
Christ.
As his boots hit the driveway, a shot rang out. Seconds later, Spec appeared in the doorway, phone to his ear.
“Hey, prez, gonna need a clean-up on aisle three.”
Lock grinned. Good fucking riddance.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE SCREECH OF the heavy door dragging along the concrete floor exploded through Brenna’s semiconscious state like a bomb going off. She jolted awake so hard her head cracked against the rock wall.
Her heart raced, and her breaths came in harsh pants. Beside her, Kelsie whimpered and began to shake so hard her teeth rattled. Sitting shoulder to shoulder to combat the cold and provide some physical comfort, they’d drifted into a fitful nap some time ago.
Bolt, the giant of a man who’d carried her down the stairs, filled the entire doorway, wearing black denim, a black T-shirt, and a bored expression. “Let’s go,” he barked.
Kelsie trembled hard, bouncing against the uneven wall behind them. Silent tears tracked down her cheeks as she stared at their guard with abject horror in her expression.
“Shh,” Brenna whispered. She gripped the younger woman’s hand between hers. “Try to breathe.”
“Get the fuck up.” As he shouted orders, he stared at Kelsie.
There was no way the other woman could stand and walk out the door. Whatever had happened the last two times they took her, it traumatized her to the point she couldn’t function. She clung to Brenna’s hand as she wept.
“Get her up.” He shifted his attention to Brenna.
When neither of them moved, he rolled his eyes.
“Don’t have time for this shit,” he muttered as he strode into the room. It’d be no problem for him to grab Kelsie and toss her over his shoulder as he’d done to Brenna.
Without giving it more than one second of thought because if she did, she’d have a heart attack, Brenna shouted. “Stop!” She climbed to her feet. “Leave her. I’ll go with you.”
“N-no… no.” Kelsie yanked on her arm, trying to get her to sit, but in her weakened state, she could barely maintain her grasp on Brenna’s hand.
She straightened to her full height and stared the asshole right in the eyes, even though inside, she was quaking as hard as Kelsie. “I’ll go. Leave her the fuck alone.”
“They didn’t ask for you, but what the fuck do I care. Start walking.”
“No… B-b-bren… don’t…” Kelsie tried to stand, but her legs gave out. She was forced to release Brenna’s hand to catch her fall.
Brenna turned and cupped her co-captive’s face between her hands. “It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”
Rivers of tears poured from Kelsie’s face as she shook her head.
“I will.” She leaned closer and whispered. “Remember what I said. They’re coming for me. For us. Hold on to that. I promise we will be free.”
“No…” Kelsie wailed. Her breathing changed to a short, choppy fight for air.
“Enough of this bullshit. Move.” A large hand grabbed the back of her shirt and shoved her away from Kelsie. She fell forward, landing on hands and knees as she struggled to breathe.
The idea of leaving Kelsie alone in this state was a knife to the gut, but she had no choice. Kelsie might not survive another assault, or at least her psyche couldn’t, and Brenna couldn’t live with herself if she allowed that to happen.
“All right! I’m going. Get your fucking hands off me,” she said, wrenching away as he reached for her again with far more confidence than she felt inside. She climbed to her feet and started forward on unsteady legs. She had no doubt that the MC would come for her, but who knew what state she’d be in when they finally found her?
Would she be like Kelsie, traumatized and broken? Would Lock be able to glue the pieces of her back together?
Would he even want to? And could she let him if he did want her?
The man had been through enough in the last year. Latching onto him after all this didn’t seem fair.
The guard shoved her to the left as she exited the room. “I said get your hands off me.”
Behind her, he laughed so loud it drowned out the sound of Kelsie’s sobs. “Let’s see how long that sass lasts. Actually, keep it. It’ll be more fun for our customers if you’re spitting and hissing like a little pussy cat. Meow.” He laughed again. “They love you feisty ones. So much fun to subdue.”
His words had her steps faltering, but she recovered quickly. She swallowed a lump of fear lodged in her throat.
They were words, just words meant to scare her.
And they did their job damn well.
“Keep walking.” He nudged her again.
This time, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from mouthing off.
“End of the hall. Door on the left.”
Each step took her closer to hell. She might as well have been walking a plank, watching the distance to her doom shorten. A bottomless ocean of churning dark water might not await her, but she was screwed, nonetheless.
They reached the end of the hallway way too fast. Bolt opened another heavy door.
“Shower. Dry. Change. You have fifteen minutes. Leave the hair wet. Makes you look… younger.” He smirked, and her blood ran cold.
Younger?
She must have hesitated too long because the next thing she knew, he pushed her into the room with all his strength. Brenna cried out as she staggered forward. Her shoe caught a crack, and she went down hard, wincing as her palms met the hard floor.
Bolt laughed and shut the door.
Fifteen minutes wasn’t much, but she gave herself one of those minutes to breathe and take in her surroundings. The room wasn’t too different from where she and Kelsie were being held. A cave-like structure, only this one had a showerhead coming from the wall straight ahead and a drain in the center of the floor. Generic bottles of what she assumed were shampoo, conditioner, and body wash sat in a small puddle. To her right, a wooden bench held a thin towel and clothing. A cracked mirror hung from the wall above the bench.
“Fifteen fucking minutes. Turn on the water,” Bolt shouted. “Unless you want a hand?”
That was all the motivation she needed. “No. I got it.”
She turned on the water and backed away from the spray. What were the chances this place had warm water instead of an icy shower? Countless hours of sitting on the floor had her feeling grimy and smelly. Cold water would still get her clean.
Sure enough, as she stuck her hand in the stream, nothing but icy drops hit her hand.
After a glance toward the flimsy door, she quickly undressed. Even though she knew her privacy and body were about to be violated, she still couldn’t stand the idea of Bolt watching her shower. At least give her a few more minutes of dignity before they stole everything from her.
Shivers racked her the instant she stepped under the frigid spray. Few things sucked more than a cold shower, though she had a feeling it would end up being the best part of her day when all was said and done. Maybe the discomfort was for the best. If she’d stepped into a warm, comforting cascade of water, she would likely break down sobbing in a hysterical heap on the floor. As it was, she rushed through cleaning herself with efficient movements to end the torment.
After the world’s fastest cleanup, she killed the water and grabbed the towel. It didn’t amount to much more than a large hand towel and did a terrible job drying her off. Shivering with violent jerks, she grabbed the first piece of clothing from the pile only to drop it as though it were a slimy reptile.
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head.
Hell no.
She forced herself to pick it up and examine the garment. They’d provided a frilly white dress like a little girl might wear, complete with pink bows and puffy sleeves. Beside the dress waited a pair of black patent leather Mary Janes. Next to the shoes was a bag. Brenna pressed a hand over her mouth as she peeked in the bag. Her eyes fell, and her heart sank to the floor.
The bag contained a giant rainbow lollipop and a fluffy brown teddy bear.
