“AndIsaid work me into the scenario,” was Franco’s parting hiss as he pulled on his earlobe.
What scenario? Jade silently closed the door. Whether it would do any good or not, she turned the lock. The only scenario she wanted was to get out of this nightmare as quickly as possible. She sat down on the bed, trying to think straight as the familiar dizziness deepened.
Without the passcode to her cell phone, she had no way to contact the outside world. Not true! She could dial 911. Glancing at her phone again, the battery was dead, and she had no charger. She had not seen a single landline anywhere, so if the Spatafores had one, it was hidden. She couldn’t find her car keys, and Franco had assured her that he had no clue what she’d done with them after she parked her car in their garage. He had refused to give her a ride, so she knew suggesting an Uber or a cab to take her to Foote Avenue would be refused. Without any neighbors on this secluded, undeveloped hill, she was trapped.
“I’ll walk down the mountain,” she whispered to herself.
Her next thought wasthat valerian tea is really kicking in.She couldn’t keep her eyes open. No! It wasn’t the tea. Franco had drugged her! That revelation struck like thunder. Orfireworks? But it was too late. The last thing she did was hide her cell phone under her pillow. Falling back on the bed, Jade passed out, still wearing her blue dress and red heels.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR
Dump-it-Here was the sleaziest hole they’d been to yet. The bars had closed at 2:00 am. Of course, this wasn’t a real bar. It was an underground room of a junkyard office that served cheap whiskey for a steep price to all-night gamblers. This scenario felt completely foreign and was the last place on earth Chase wanted to be.
“Look,” Richard said and pointed to an electric scooter parked under a half-burned-out neon sign that dimly read…Dump. “Found him.”
“Good.” Chase turned off the Harley’s engine.
Richard, Blade, Tommy-Gun, and Wolf did the same and dismounted their motorcycles. Chase had handled Lester Bisbee easily enough at the ranch. But you never knew who else might be in a pit like this. Chase was glad to have the muscle of the Sons of Steel on his side. He figured each of Richard’s bearded men, wearing their colors on black leather vests, weighed in at no less than two hundred and fifty pounds each. Blade, with his sheathed Bowie knife and pistol stuck in his belt, and Tommy-Gun, also with a pistol and carrying a chain, went first. That was probably a ritual or protocol set by Richard, who walked behind them. Wolf, with his two rows of silver teeth and brass knuckles on both fists, walked alongside Chase.
They rounded the building, reaching the backside, where steps led to a basement door. Blade and Tommy-Gun led the way down the steps, and Tommy-Gun knocked twice. At eye level, a small door-within-the-door, used as a peephole, opened. A man smoking a cigar frowned.
“What do you want?” the man asked.
“Entrance,” Blade said.
“I own this place,” the man replied, eyeing him. “You here to play?”
Tommy-Gun grinned, “Yeah, we’re here to play.”
“Who are you?” the owner asked.
“Sons of Steel,” Blade said.
“Sorry. Really sorry. But we’re full up,” the man replied and shut the peephole door.
“Take it down,” Richard said evenly.
Heavy boots kicked the door once. Shrieks and scrambling were heard on the other side. The door crashed into a smoke-filled room where six men sat at a round table with cards, chips, and money on it. Blade entered and went left. Tommy-Gun entered and moved right. Richard stepped forward and stood where the door had been.
“Big Dog,” the owner said, obviously petrified. “I—I didn’t see you. Your gang is always welcome.”
“Club,” Richard corrected him.
“Of course. How can I help your club?” the owner asked.
“Looking for him.” When Richard pointed to Lester, the others scooted their chairs away from him and started snatching their money off the table.
“I haven’t been near Suzy’s, Big Dog,” Lester said. “I swear.”
“Shut up,” Richard said and moved next to Blade. Wolf followed and took a place beside Tommy-Gun. Chase entered then and stood front and center. “You remember my friend?”
“Mr. Cooper?” Lester looked so petrified; Chase almost felt sorry for him.
“Holy shit,” said the only other man who Chase recognized.
“Ragsdale,” Chase growled at the man with two black eyes, a broken nose, and a split lip. “Why am I not surprised? Get the hell outa here before I kick your ass again.”
“Clear the room!” Richard barked.
