“I’ll call the Bayou Devils. They have a tech guy in their ranks too. You got anything for us to start off with, any sort of clue?” Bowser volunteers.
“Yeah, I got the license plate to the van the fucker loaded her into.”
“Okay, that’s a good start. I can get somewhere with that, Prez.” I can tell Bowser’s trying to reassure me. I wonder if the rest of my brothers can tell how important Hermoine is to me. “I’m going to see if the guy from the Bayou Devils can help me hack into the city’s cameras. If we can trace that plate using their system, it should be a piece of cake. The only problem is getting past the safeguards the city puts in place, but with help, I can break through. I know it.”
“All right. You do whatever you need to do, and that’s the same for everyone in the club. The most important thing is Hermoine getting back safely.” I slam my gavel down on the table, and I watch as brothers talk amongst themselves, all communicating on who they’re calling so they don’t call the same club.
When push comes to shove, my club comes in the clutch. They always will, and it’s why they’re my brethren. It’s why they’re the ones who I’d trust with my life.
CHAPTER NINE
Hermoine
I’m not sure how long I’ve been here in this nasty fucking hotel room, but I’ve watched the sun go down and rise again once already, and I suspect we’re nearing nightfall again. Geno is relentless, though. Not once since he taped me to this chair sometime yesterday, has he given up trying to get me to admit that he is, in fact, my father or trying to teach me some respect. His favorite method of instruction is backhanding me across the right side of my face, and it’s so swollen at this point that I can hardly see out of that eye, but I won’t give in. Maybe I should just give him what he wants—it would certainly be the smart thing to do—but the more he hits me, the more I want to deny him of everything he’s asking for.
Because fuck him.
“Say it, Hermoine,” he growls, getting in my face again, but I keep my expression blank as I stare at him. It’s not totally a silent “fuck you” since making any kind of face right now would hurt like hell, but I’ll admit that there is some of that in there as well. And God, do I enjoy every single second of his frustration when he sees that fact in my eyes. “I’m your father, and you know it, so I want to hear you say the goddamn words.”
No.
I won’t do it.
My position on Geno’s place in my life hasn’t shifted even a little bit despite his best efforts throughout the night. He may have very well been involved in my conception, but he is no father to me. A father wouldn’t do this shit to his child. Hell, any kind of decent man would rather die than lay his hands on a woman. With every slap he delivers and every demand he makes of me, I become more solidified in my position against him. And he can hit me for the rest of forever, but my opinion on the matter won’t change.
“You sure this is the route you want to take, daughter?” he asks, and I barely resist the urge to snarl at the name he’s taken to calling me since we’ve been in this hotel room. I have no idea what he’s talking about now, but I hold fast to my stubborn resolve and just stare back at him.
I.
Will.
Not.
Break.
He takes a step back and shakes his head, looking down at his hands with a sigh. His knuckles are bruised and swollen, a result of the beating he’s given me, and the sight only pisses me off more.
What a piece of shit.
“This is your last chance,” he says softly, meeting my gaze. “Believe me, darlin’, this can get worse. Just say the words.”
How?
How could this get worse?
I’ve been tied to this chair for God only knows how long, and my so-called father has beaten me to within an inch of my life. My entire body is screaming from the pain of his fists, and I have no idea how I’m ever going to get out of here, so how the hell is this going to get worse?
Unless he is willing to kill me, but at this point, that might be a relief.
Holding his gaze, I press my lips into a thin line to make my point perfectly clear, and he sighs again, nodding to himself as he takes a couple steps back. He pulls his phone from his pocket, checking the screen quickly before he looks up at the men standing behind me. They’ve been here off and on throughout the whole ordeal, sometimes leaving to smoke out front or to get food, but all four of them have been posted up behind me for the last hour or so, watching my torment.
“She’s all yours then, boys.”
Wait . . .
What?
All my thoughts screech to a halt as I watch him back away from me and his face almost looks remorseful for just a second before he turns and opens the door.
And then he’s gone.
My heart thunders out of control as I swivel my head, trying to figure out where his men are as they begin to circle the chair surrounding me.
Oh god.
I can’t breathe.
What the hell are they going to do to me?
I jump as the click of a knife snapping open reaches my ears, followed by another, and my mouth is so dry I can’t force words out even if I have something to say. The two with the knives step closer and grab my arms, cutting them free from the tape before moving down to my feet. My mind races, thoughts of escape overpowering everything else. But as I move to brace my hands on the arms of the chair, preparing myself to fight back, one of the other men grabs me from behind.
“I don’t think so, honey,” he whispers in my ear, his breath fanning out across my neck. I shiver as disgust trickles down my spine and the man behind me laughs, dragging his tongue up the side of my throat. And in an instant, I understood what Geno meant when he said it could be worse.
No.
No.
No.
He wouldn’t let them do this to me, would he?
But as I look between the two men in front of me, the excitement in their eyes, as well as Geno’s sudden absence from this motel room, tells me everything I need to know. God, just when I think my opinion of the man couldn’t possibly sink any lower, he has to go and prove me wrong.
But why?
Why would he allow his men to do this to me? Is it another method to teach me some respect? Does he think this will make me acquiesce to his demands? Does he assume that forcing me to endure this will finally break me?
I would like to think that I’ll stand strong in the face of what I know is coming, but the resolve I’ve held tightly to over the last twenty-four hours is gone, and I want nothing more than to find a way out of this hell.
“Tell Geno to come back,” I say, my voice shaking more than I like. There is only one thing worse than what is about to happen to me, and that is these men knowing how damn scared I am. “I’ll say the words.”
The man behind me chuckles, and as his breath hits my skin again, I struggle against his grip. “It’s too late for that, sweetheart.”
The instant my legs are freed from the chair, I try to kick them out in front of me, hoping to catch at least one of the men in the face, but they both manage to dodge my attempt. One of them wraps his arms around both of my legs like a vice, hindering any further attempts as the other man stands and walks to my side. I watch him, holding my breath as he brings the knife close to my body, and just when I think he might cut me as a punishment, he slides the blade through the tape securing me to the back of the chair. There isn’t even a moment to fight back as all four men work together to lift me off the seat. I struggle in their arms, despite the waves of pain that accompany my every move, but it’s no use. I don’t stand a chance.