Claiming Crusher: Savage Brothers MC (29 page)

I stir up fear in him for a little while and then sit down. I reach in my shirt pocket, under my vest and pull out my smokes. I put them on a table and then light one, inhaling deep. I let the nicotine calm me and center me. I don’t smoke often, but then again it’s not every day your woman is in the hands of some sick fucker and you can’t find her.

I’ve got this ass-wipe thinking I’m going to burn his balls off. He’s not really talking, so I guess the possibility is still on the table. I got my name because I used to be able to crush just about anything with my bare hands. Right now if I didn’t have to keep him alive, I’d crush his head off his neck, it would stop all the whining he’s doing. Instead, I pick up my knife. I’ll cut his skin in small strips until he gives me the information I need. If that doesn’t work then, and only then will I touch his fucking balls. I’m sure those fuckers stink, plus he looks like the kind of coward that’s going to piss himself.

*

It takes me
about an hour to get some information I can use. Still, it’s a long shot. While I was burning off fingerprints and pulling his teeth, anything that might be used for identification purposes, the fucker finally let it slip who hired him. It wasn’t Kavanagh, but the guy set up a meeting area out at the old tobacco barn on Route 11. It’s not much, but it’s the first glimmer of hope I have. I quickly ended the mother fucker and buried him on an old hiking trail. It’s not far away from Savage MC land and if Dragon finds out he’s going to be all kinds of fucking pissed at me, but I don’t have the time to be neat. Every minute that Dani is gone is another one that Kavanagh might find her and fuck….to be honest I think he already has her. I can’t even think about what might happen to her.

I decide to head back to the club. I can give them the information I have and get some back-up. I’m going to need help. I don’t know what kind of fire power Kavanagh has and I’m not about to fuck up what might be my only chance to save Dani. When I get there Nicole is crying and everyone is gathered around, and for a minute I think Dani has already been killed. I can’t breathe. It’s like someone has my heart in their hand and they’re squeezing it so tight that the pain is debilitating.

“They have Dani, Dragon. He’s demanding I…he was torturing her. He has Dani, Dragon.” Nicole says, her words disjointed and full of pain. My world stops.

“Where Nicole?” Dragon questions.

“The old abandoned Laurel Elementary School. Dragon, we have to save her. She’s in bad shape.”

“What kind of fucking shape?” I ask, because I can’t stop myself. I see the look Dragon gives me and the pity in his eyes, but I don’t give a fuck.

“He…they beat her. She, oh God, I’ve never seen someone hurt that bad before. He’ll kill her if we don’t get her.”

I’ve heard enough. They can all stand around and talk if they want to. I tear out of there heading straight for the old school.

I make it in record time and way ahead of my brothers, but the place is empty. There’s no sign of the fucker anywhere and worse, there’s no sign of Dani. I comb through the place and I find a corner covered in blood about the time the rest of the crew show up.

“Son of a bitch!” I growl when I see the huge amount of blood. She’s so small. How can she withstand so much blood loss? I close my eyes and remember that day on the beach when she smiled and kissed me. I hear her whisper, I love you Zander and it’s all I can do to keep standing. I turn on my brother. “I knew by you fucking around it would end up screwing us in the ass. Now we have no idea where the hell Dani is!”

Dragon doesn’t react with words, he swings and uppercuts me under the chin. I wasn’t expecting it, so I fall back on the ground. I want to get up and go a few rounds with him. Dragon is a mean motherfucker, but then so am I and it just might make me feel better to pound him. I don’t though. I know I’m in the wrong here, but goddamn it I need him to help me get my woman back.

“Motherfucker! That is not what screwed us in the ass!” Dragon yells, and squats down to look at me. He’s vibrating with anger. He can join the club. “What screwed us in the ass, dick-weed, was you overruling my fucking orders. Tell me, where the fuck is my prisoner today, Crush? What the fuck did you do with him?” When I don’t answer him he grabs me by the hair on my head and pulls me up to stand with him. “Where the fuck is my prisoner, Crush?”

I think about not answering, but in the end I’m honest with him—or at least mostly honest. “I did what you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, and what was that, brother?”

“I interrogated the ass-wipe,” I say easily, half hoping Dragon will start whaling on me and give me an excuse to hit back.

“Gee, wonder why I didn’t think of that. Tell me Crush, did you find out one more damn piece of information?”

I should be honest here, I need his help, but I’m tired of Dragon being a sanctimonious asshole. If this was Nicole missing he’d be going fucking crazier than I am. So, I don’t tell him shit. I’ll do it on my own.

“Do you know why that is dick-head? It’s because he didn’t fucking know anything!” He growls. “Did you set him free, at least, and have someone follow him?”

Here is where guilt hits, because I really should have done better with this part, if nothing else. Still, it is what it is. “There wasn’t anything left to set free,” I tell him.

As lies go, this one is the least of my worries.

Dani

I
don’t know
how long I’ve been out. When I come to, all I know is that I’m staring at the face of the devil himself. I also notice my hands are tied. My feet are free, but that doesn’t help me get the knife I have hidden under my jacket.

“We meet again, dear wife. You look pretty good for a dead woman.”

“It’s amazing what escaping life with a fucking asshole will do for you,” I answer. I get a kick to the stomach in thanks for my sarcasm. Since I’m expecting a lot more, I suck it up. “Nice to know you’re still the same bastard you’ve always been,” I grunt, because it’s hard to catch my breath.

“Aw, my Melinda how I’ve missed you, but I don’t remember you being quite so outspoken before. It will be fun breaking you. I shall have to do it quick though, since you can’t live much longer. You see dear wife, I’m getting married next week.”

“My condolences to your fiancé.”

“Melinda, you sound almost…jealous,” he says and he bends down to the floor where I’m sitting, bending down so his face is mere inches from mine. Inside my heart is hammering and I’m a nervous wreck. I’ve been afraid before. I was married to the devil himself, so I’ve been deep into fear. So deep that my body felt frozen, but right now I have to acknowledge that it’s over. I’m dying…. I’m dying tonight. Within that certainty there is freedom. There’s nothing more that Michael can do to me than he doesn’t already have planned. He’s going to take it all from me. He’s going to kill me. So, when he bends his face down towards me, I look at him. I really look at him. He once had features a teenage girl found dashing and debonair. Now, they fall flat and I only see the ugly. Eyes that once looked dark and mysterious are now hidden behind designer shades and seriously, we’re in an old deserted building. The lighting in here sucks. Why on Earth would you wear sunglasses? I don’t need to see his eyes to know that they’re soulless.

“Jealous? You have to be kidding me,” I tell him, my stomach churning with the need to vomit.

“It’s okay Melinda, I can give you a pity fuck for old time’s sake,” he says moving in. He grabs my hair and gathers it in a tight hold, pulling my face closer to him and his lips are so close to mine that I am enveloped by his sickening scent. “I do remember what a wild girl you are, maybe I’ll let Donald join in. One last hurrah before you die, this doesn’t have to be a completely unpleasant experience.”

It takes everything I am and everything I have inside of me, not to close my eyes and get lost in the nightmarish memories he triggers. Instead, I beat them back down and give Michael my best fuck-you look and spit in his face. His face goes stony hard and I know I’m going to pay for that. I watch as he reaches into the pocket of his suit-coat and takes out a white handkerchief. He uses it to wipe off his face. Once that’s done, he takes his sunglasses off, carefully folds them and places them in his now empty suit-pocket. He then takes the handkerchief, and even though I try to scoot back and get away from him, he grabs me by my hair, jerks my head back hard, and slams it into the concrete wall behind me.

The pain from the blow radiates through my entire body. I feel like I’m in a tunnel and I’m having trouble getting the room to come back into focus. There’s a roar in my ears and I’m doing the best I can to shake it off. Before I can, he’s stuffing the handkerchief into my mouth. I gag and choke, but he makes sure the entire thing goes in my mouth.

“There, I forgot how fucking annoying your voice was,” he says, standing up.

“I believe it’s time for lesson number one, Donald,” he says and the sick pleasure in his voice is heavy in the air.

I push back further against the wall. I know it’s useless. I have nowhere to go even if there is some space between us—still, I do it. It must be some fight or flight reflex. It’s the absolute wrong thing to do. Now I’m against the cold, hard cinderblock with nowhere to go, and Donald and Michael are standing in front of me. They are the two most vile and disgustingly evil men I have ever known in my life. If I could talk, I would scream, yell, berate, and curse… anything to make me feel better and to feel less…helpless. I pull on the bindings on my wrists and there’s a little give. I pull and tug harder and harder, hoping with everything in me to get them free.

That’s when I see it. The shiny steel pipe that Donald is holding and that is why being against the wall is a bad thing. There is nothing to cushion me when my body absorbs the blow. It comes hard and the breeze from the swing reaches me first, sending chills from the cool air over my body. Then the pipe connects with my knees. As blows go, it could have been worse. There are much worse places to be hit than in your knees. I’ve had them all, so I know. Yet, the force is so strong and the pipe is so heavy that it doesn’t land with a thud. No, it cracks into the bone and pain radiates immediately. Tears gather in my eyes and spring free. I hate giving them tears, but there’s nothing I can do.

I’ve barely recovered from the first blow when another one follows it. This one is higher up on my legs, just above the knees. He’s trying to break my legs. I see it in their smiles, in the sinister way they look down at me, knowing they will get everything from me. I vow then when I die, I will find a way to reach around them and drag them down into fucking hell with me. Michael reaches down and grabs my head, pulling out the handkerchief he leers at me.

“Are you ready to be nicer, Melinda? Surely you’d rather this go easier on you? At least die with the dignity you never possessed in life.”

“Fuck…You…”

I’m gasping and the tears clog my throat, but he looks at me strangely. I think my reply surprises him. I count that as a moral victory. The pain in my body is so intense there are black dots floating in my eyes and I truly want to pass out.

“Melinda, you are even more stupid than I gave you credit for,” Michael says resignedly, stuffing the handkerchief back in my mouth.

Another hit by the pipe, this one lands against my stomach and my body feels like it’s being split in two from the blow. I don’t get to recover, before there’s another and then another. Four repeated hits in the same area and I’m close to losing consciousness. I think the last two went higher than I first realized, because my breathing is ragged. Broken ribs? Maybe…I can’t be sure. Donald grabs my foot and pulls me roughly down to the ground. I lie there in misery. I can’t do anything else. Then I see the knife in Michael’s hands. A moment later I feel the cold metal of the blade dance under my stomach. I’m waiting for the red hot fire of the blade slicing into my skin. I don’t get that. I can’t be happy about it though, because I feel the chill of air hit my skin as the blade slices through my shirt and bra.

It’s my worst nightmare come true. Lying on the cold floor, my body exposed to the two men that have violated me, haunted me…destroyed me. Michael puts the blade flat against my face and slides it down my forehead and further to my nose and my chin.

“It’s time for the fun to really begin, Melinda. If you tell me where my money is, I might do you a favor and end you before there’s too much pain.”

I close my eyes and try to pretend I’m somewhere else. It’s impossible with the pain. I can do nothing but cry and scream against the gag, as the knife slices into my stomach. I almost lose it at the white-hot agony that comes with the slicing of Michael’s blade against my skin. It’s familiar, but new and more intense than I remember. Perhaps time had soften the memories after all, I’m not sure, all I know, is that with the second…or maybe it was the third….it all goes hazy. I feel Michael cut from the bottom of my ribcage, down my stomach, and darkness swallows me. I welcome it.

I can’t be sure of what happens next. Which is good and bad. I could have sworn I heard Nicole crying and for the space of a minute, I thought I might have been rescued. Then I feel the far-off dull pain of someone kicking my stomach and the stretching of the cuts on my stomach. I hear crying and it sounds so mournful, so sad. I want to reach out and hug the person for the pain they must be enduring. Then I wonder…if maybe I’m the one who is crying? I hope I don’t give him that…I hope it’s not me.