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I felt for the man.

I really did.

But now was not the time to remember the dead.

The dead were dead.

I needed to save the living.

I needed his help to get my sister and Layla back.

He whispered, “When?” as he released me.

“July of 2016, in Tennessee. The President of the Black Vultures, a man, named Vain killed her.”

Maxim roared as he punched a hole in the hall wall. His own men stepped backed giving the angry man room.

“Maxim, Dominika had two children. They are alive. Her son is a member of the Golden Skulls Motorcycle Club. Her daughter is the love of my life, and I plan to make her my wife. She was taken with Illyria. Please. I need your help to find them both. I need to tell you so much, and when they are home safe, I will happily sit down with you and explain everything, but right now, Diablo has taken Layla and Illyria. Do you know where he might have them?”

“I know the man you speak of. He approached me two years ago. I don’t associate with his kind.”

“There has to be someone you know, anyone who might know his whereabouts.”

“Yes. His shadow. A man named Demarco.”

“Angelo Demarco?”

“Yes.”

Running back towards the kitchen, I wasted no time slamming the basement door open and rushing down the stairs. I knew Demarco wasn’t telling me everything, and I was long past the time for games. Walking into the back room, I grinned, seeing him still hanging like a slab of beef when I left him.

Walking over to Giuseppe’s table, I grabbed a tire iron and quickly swung it at Demarco’s legs. His screams vibrated throughout the room.

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” I said swinging the tire iron again against his other leg as I shouted, “Where is Diablo!”

When the man stayed silent, I threw the tire iron on the floor and reached for the chainsaw. Starting it, the loud rumble drowned out his moans. Not bothering to draw out the suspense, I wasted no time sawing off his left foot.

His screams damn near blew out my eardrums, but I didn’t care anymore. I would have preferred to take my time and enjoy his misery but time was of the essence. He knew where Diablo was at, and I wasn’t going to let him die until he gave me what I wanted.

Revving up the chainsaw’s motor once more, I walked over to his other leg and lowered it, just as he shouted, “He’s headed to New York!”

“Where?”

“The Port Authority. He has a tanker there waiting to take him to Europe.”

“Where is the tanker supposed to dock?”

“Spain,” he muttered just as a gunshot reverberated throughout the room, his face exploding right in front of me. Turning quickly, I saw Maxim lowering a gun.

“We can be in New York within the hour. I will call ahead and have my men head to the docks. No tanker will leave without my permission.”

Nodding, I dropped the chainsaw and followed him out.

36

Layla

Cold water was poured over me, shocking me awake. Gasping, I coughed as I tried to open my eyes as I heard a door slam loudly. I felt off. Dizzy like waking from a deep fog. I couldn’t move my limbs. They felt heavy and ached, as if I overworked them somehow. Trying hard to open my eyes, I could hear strange noises around me. I heard water splashing against something metal. Footsteps above as men talked. There was a grinding whining noise I couldn’t place. The smell around me was pungent but distinct. I smelled fuel. The room was swaying slowly in a slight rocking motion. It was making me queasy. Doors slammed shut above me, startling me.


Tags: Rebecca Joyce Crime