“You snapping your wrist in half ain’t going to do anyone any good. Relax.”
“You don’t understand what Frank is capable of if he gets to her first.” Shaking my head, I rest it on the bar, and pray to God I can get out of here and find her before she’s turned over to Frank.
“You mean the pig you brought into my club?” His voice is sharp and pissed off.
“It’s not like that.” I don’t raise my head, I don’t look at him. I know he won’t understand.
“Why don’t you try and tell me why you’re running again, and don’t fucking lie. Otherwise, I’ll just let you rot right here.”
“I went against my brotherhood. I slept with a cop. My club found out and my uncle set me up, made me kill Jillian’s father right in front of her. Then he tried to kill her, and I know he would have tried to kill me, too, so I snatched her and ran.” The room goes silent. The events of what took place replaying in my mind over and over. “None of this is her fault, she’s innocent.”
Vibration hits the cuffs, causing me to look up and find Bobby sawing at them. Within seconds they snap free.
Rubbing at my wrist I barrel out of the club, in search of Jillian.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Lip hollers, running after me.
“To find Jillian.”
“You can’t do that, you’re going to get yourself killed.”
“Not like you cared about either of us anyway, you shot me and were throwing us out today. Well, here’s us out. Now fuck off,” I sneer, heading towards the road.
“And my reaction to you showing up here is my fault? This is all your fault, Zeek, you killed one of my brothers, for Christ’s sake.” I stop, my fists clenched.
“NO! This is your fault just as much as it is mine. Did it ever occur to you to ever fucking pick up the phone, to call me, to fucking talk to your own brother? No, you ran. You fucking ran with our mother, and left me to decide everything.”
“Our dad—”
“You think he was nice to me? You don’t think I didn’t get my ass beat, Lip? I did. If I didn’t hold a gun right, or I said the wrong thing at the wrong time in front of the wrong people I got the shit knocked out of me. Hell, he broke my fucking wrist one time because he lost a bet that I could outshoot another club’s president’s son.” I eye him from head to toe, his look of surprise not lost on me. “I know you thought I had it better, but I didn’t, not by a long shot. Only difference was you had Mom behind you, I had nobody.”
Lip’s eyes widen, his mouth parting.
“Yeah, but Tom Cat’s—”
“It’s easy for you to place blame, when all you did was run away from your problems, Lip. All I wanted was my brother when I needed him most; you denied me. You were disrespectful, and wouldn’t give me a chance. I took your bitch because I knew it was the only way to get your attention and then shit got out of hand—” I throw my hand at him, done with this shit. “It doesn’t fucking matter. It doesn’t change anything.”
I double my steps, looking up the road for a car to jack.
Stepping up to a yellow Neon I yank on the handle.
“I didn’t know Dad did those things, that he beat—”
“Doesn’t matter, Lip.” I kick the door and it pops open. Neon’s are the easiest to break into.
“Think Frank will really hurt her if he gets to her?”
I nod, saying the words hurts too much.
“Come on, we can take the club’s SUV.”
Furrowing my brows I look at him in confusion, wondering why he would help me and what his motives really are.
“I’m not doing it for you, I’m doing it for her.”
Jillian
I CAN’T SEE ANYTHING. My hands are handcuffed behind me causing all my weight to rest on my shoulder painfully.
As soon as we made it outside two men climbed out of an SUV. One covered my head with a black pillowcase while the other handcuffed me. I was then tossed into the back seat.
My breath bursts in and out in heavy pants making the fabric of the pillow case suction to my nose. It’s so hard to breathe, but I continue to take in as much air as my lungs will allow.
“Thanks for the delivery.” An unfamiliar male’s voice sounds from outside the car.
“Where is my cut?” Deputy Needon asks. The door to the SUV shuts, and I can’t hear the conversation any further.
Shifting in the back seat, my head bumps against something warm, like a leg. A door to the front of the car shuts, and the SUV is put into gear.
“Back to the casino, Cross.” A man’s voice from beside me orders. A warm hand brushes the hair from my neck. I jerk away, and a maniacal laugh fills the car.