Cannon turns it over and Tito tears the envelope open, eyes the content, then gestures at his friend. “Start the truck,” he orders.
“Where is she?” I ask, losing it.
“The address is written on a piece of paper taped on the roof of the pavilion,” he says. “Don’t make a move until we drive away.”
He walks backward at first, grinning. Then he turns and makes a run for his vehicle. As the truck drives away, Cannon is the first to pull himself up and scramble to the top of the shelter.
“Got it!” he shouts and hops down with a piece of paper in his hand. “Sonofabitch,” he says. “She’s in a warehouse on the west side of Shreveport.”
We rush to our bikes and I make a quick call to Tonsils, letting him know where we’re going.
As we fly down the highway, doing a hundred in a fifty-five-mile zone, all I think about is finding her dead. How will I live without her again? I try to shake the fear off, letting what shreds of hope remain inside my heart. It’s not working. The lines in the center of the road fade in and out as I envision her death—hear her cry out in pain.
We park half a mile away from the building and walk the rest of the way. This part of Shreveport is all industrial buildings, half of them abandoned after the financial collapse a few years ago. As we walk, a compact car zips by, but we don’t see anyone else around.
The building where Angel is allegedly being held is surrounded by a chain-link fence with barbed wire across the top. There are holes in the fencing, though, and the exterior of the warehouse is dilapidated. I spot two Harleys parked along the side of the building. I motion for Cannon and Big Jim to surround the structure and await a text message to go inside. Before we make a move, I want to know what we’re facing. I won’t gamble with Angel’s life.
I’d rather die than see a hair on her beautiful head hurt.
Serafina
Bear circles me again and again, taunting me, threatening to rape me. I’m sitting in the middle of the mattress, my knees tucked under my chin, long past the point of crying and begging him to leave me alone.
Last night he personally served my dinner, oatmeal laced with maggots. I took one look in the bowl and threw it against the wall. He laughed and left the cell, leaving me hungry and afraid. Then, early in the morning, he offered me a stale granola bar, which I greedily took and devoured. Now he wants to collect payment for giving me something safe to eat.
“Pull your pants down and show me that pussy,” he says.
I shake my head.
“Want me to do it for you?”
I glare at him, knowing he doesn’t make empty threats. “Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth?” I ask.
He rakes his fingers through his greasy hair. “I don’t kiss my mama, but I do plenty of things to her.”
The long-awaited confession.Yeah, I know, asshole.
He slinks closer, obviously turned on by the idea of taking me by force. Only after it reaches a certain point will I break down and tell him who I really am. I’d rather get beaten to death or shot than have his hands on my body again. Even Bear isn’t capable of incest—I hope.
“Look at those perfect tits,” he comments, kneeling on the end of the pallet, just out of my reach. “I want to suck those nipples and stick my fingers inside you.”
Every time he says something like that, a part of me dies inside. Please God. Send Eagle. Send anyone. I’m willing to fuck my way to freedom if I have to, just not with my insane brother. Let one of the other Dead Dogs claim me.
He grabs my ankle and yanks so hard I fall back. As he climbs up my body, I club the side of his face with my hands. It doesn’t do anything to dissuade him. In fact, violence turns him on more. He straddles my hips and holds my hands over my head with one hand and lifts my bra with the other, ogling my exposed flesh.
“Fucking beautiful,” he says, dipping down to taste me.
Just as I’m about to scream out that I’m Angel, someone comes into the room.
“Evander!” a woman’s voice sounds, using my brother’s real name.
Bear freezes and his face flushes, like he’s heard the voice of a ghost.
I lift my head, fighting to break free from his grasp. “Let me go, goddamnit!”
I hear a click and that’s when Bear releases me, rolling off of my body, and turning around.
My mother is standing just inside the doorway with a gun pointed at her only son. I gasp and cry out to her. “Mom . . . please.”
