Desolation

  My thoughts are stirred back into the depths of my brain when I hear voices enter the downstairs arena. I hold my breath as the sounds of shouting flow through and the voices become clearer. Someone is yelling, and whoever it is, he’s angry. He has a voice unlike any I’ve heard before. It’s thick, slightly accented, and so husky it’s as if he should be reading for an adult hotline.

  Before I can process further, the door to the closet is swung open and I’m staring up at the scariest man I’ve ever met in my life. He makes Maddox look like a puppy dog in comparison. It’s not that he’s bigger, or broader—it’s his eyes. Black as coal, and so empty it’s terrifying. His face is handsome, aside from that, though it’s handsome in the dangerous kind of way.

  He’s got scars on his cheekbones, and a slightly crooked nose, clearly from having fought in his life at some point, maybe recently. Thick lashes frame his eyes, and his mouth, though full, is set in a tight line. His jaw is muscular, just like the rest of his body. His hair is cropped short, close to his head, maybe a few centimeters long and messy. It makes him even more terrifying. His body is large and muscled, especially his shoulders. He’s got tattoos running out of the sleeves of his shirt and down his arms, twisting angrily until they reach his hands.

  Terrifying.

  “You put a fuckin’ girl that looks like she’s fuckin’ ten in my closet?” he roars so loudly I flinch.

  “You owe me, Maximus. I’m making use of that favor. She won’t be here long.”

  “I want no fuckin’ shit with the Joker’s Wrath boys, and that’s exactly what you’re doing—bringing shit.”

  He stares at the lean man so hard he flinches. “They will never know she was here. We’re just holding her here until we can secure another location and—”

  “Do you fuckin’ know that club?” Max roars.

  “Yes, but . . .”

  “Then you fuckin’ know they are dangerous.”

  “I’ll get her out before any problems arise.”

  “Too fuckin’ right you will. I might owe you a favor, Harold, but you do not fuckin’ come in here and take what you want.”

  So that’s his name. Harold.

  “Yeah, I get you. I’m just holding her until I can take her to Ingro.”

  Ingro? Who the hell is Ingro?

  Max’s eyes flash. “You’re taking this girl to the biggest fuckin’ drug lord on this side of the border?”

  Harold smirks. “He has a problem with the Joker’s Wrath Club. They caused big problems on their latest visit—killed his brother.”

  So Ingro’s brother was the leader of this organization. At least, that’s what I got from what Maddox told Santana, combined with what I’m hearing now.

  “No shit?” Max says, then his eyes flick to me. “What are you to that club?”

  “Nothing,” I whisper.

  He studies my face. I look away, and from this angle, I catch sight of a tattoo on his upper bicep. I narrow my eyes and gasp when I read the word Anabelle. Suddenly it hits me hard, and I can’t believe I didn’t figure it out before. She told me her husband’s name is Max. She told me he’s a fighter, or runs a fighting club at least. This man, this terrifying man, is the man who broke her heart.

  “You’re Belle’s husband,” I breathe, and then flinch when I realize it said it out loud.

  Max’s eyes shoot to my face, and something passes over his expression that has me shrinking into myself. “What did you say?” he asks.

  “Nothing, I was just . . .”

  “You said I’m Belle’s husband. How the fuck do you know that?”

  Oh God. I know Belle doesn’t want him to know she’s here, and I know he doesn’t know about Immy. Now I see this man, I can see where that little girl gets all her looks from. I need to say something to get him off the scent.

  “I asked how the fuck you know that?” he bellows, and I flinch.

  “I knew her when she used to live here.”

  He stares at my face, as if he can read my lie. “Funny. I’ve never heard of you.”

  “I didn’t know her well.”

  His eyes flash. “You know her now?”

  “N . . . n . . . n . . . no.”

  His jaw tics and he turns back to Harold. I nearly breathe a sigh of relief.

  “You have twenty-four hours to sort this shit out, Harold. You don’t, I will. I don’t need any problems around here. Take her to Ingro—just get her out of here.”

  No.

  No.

  “Please,” I cry out. “Don’t take me away.”

  Max stares down at me, his expression hard.

  Then, as if he didn’t hear me, he disappears. Harold steps in the space and smirks down at me. “You’re going to love my boss. I know he’ll just love you.”

  Then he slams the door again.

  And I finally let the tears fall.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  NOW – Pippa

  The sounds of roaring voices and loud cheering jerk me from my sleep. My eyes flutter open and I quickly gather myself enough to figure out I’m pressed against the towels still. The ground rumbles, as if someone is stomping his or her feet. I push myself up into a sitting position and turn towards the booming sound. There must be a fight going on—that’s the only thing that could explain such ruckus.

  Using my bound hands, I shuffle forward and press my ear to the door. Cheering and roaring, and the sound of violence fill the space. Definitely a fight. My hopes rise slightly. If there’s a fight that means there’s people around. If I scream and bang my fists on the door, maybe someone will hear and open it. My chest swells and I reach over, banging my fists on the door.

  I yell out loudly, over and over.

  Nothing happens. I assume there’s probably someone watching this door—surely they wouldn’t be so stupid as to leave it unattended. Whoever is there is obviously ignoring me, not wanting to draw attention. There’s a good chance no one will hear me. I keep trying anyway, pounding until my bound fists hurt, screaming until my throat is raw. No one comes.

  I slump backwards into my towels, fighting back a sob. I don’t want to get taken from this place—if I do, there’s a chance I’ll never see my family again. I think about Tyke and Rainer, and my heart clenches tightly. What if Maddox didn’t find them? I’m the only person who knows they’re there. God, what if Tyke is stuck, unable to walk, down in that ditch?

  Tears burn my eyes and I blink them away.

  Then, as if someone answered my prayers, the door to the closet swings open. I’m faced with two girls, both who look like whores. Their skirts are so tiny I don’t even know why they bothered to wear them, and as for their shirts . . . they are no more than strips of material covering their nipples and parts of their breasts. Still, they’re people, and they’re not Harold and his guys.

  “What the hell?” the blond girl says, narrowing her eyes. “Why is there a chick in the closet?”

  “I don’t know,” the brunette whines. “But I don’t think this is where we’re meant to meet PJ.”

  “No, he said a closet. This must be it. Maybe she’s part of it.”

  Jesus.

  “I’m not,” I say, pushing to my feet quickly. “Excuse me, I was in the wrong place.”

  I step past them, and the place is absolutely packed. Surely they wouldn’t have left me in a closet, unguarded, where someone could just open the door. I glance to my left and see Harold being yelled at by Max. He isn’t far from the closet, only a few feet, in fact. My guess is he was called away. A split second. He turns and when he sees me, he moves quickly.

  So do I.

  I charge through the crowd, even though Harold roars at someone to stop me. My heart pounds as I push through the sweaty, drunken crowd cheering at the two fighters in the ring. I trip, I get stuck, but I manage to move faster than Harold. When I reach the stairs, I run up them so fast I stumble over the top one. I scurry out, pushing to my feet.

  “Hey!”

  I jerk around to s
ee the three men that captured me to begin with. I don’t wait to see what they’re doing. I run towards the door and out into the club. I thank my lucky stars that it’s packed, because I quickly slip between people. I’m small and people instantly move when they glance at me. I charge towards the front doors. I reach them with ease and shove through, running outside into the night.

  I look to my left, then to my right. To my left there’s a mass of people lining up to go in. Hundreds of them. To my right is a massive parking lot, with the lights of cars everywhere. Straight ahead is the road. I don’t know which is my best way, but I take the right. I run into the parking lot and right down to the left-hand corner, finding a low car. I make a split second decision to slide underneath it when I hear yelling from the front of the club.

  “Split up. She can’t have gone far.”

  I push farther underneath the car, scraping my knees and my elbows as I slide in as far as I can possibly go. I hold my breath and close my eyes, my heart pounding so hard it hurts. I hear shouting, see flashlights being waved around, and then the sound of booted feet as they run up and down the parking lot. As they get closer, I start to panic. If they’re checking under the cars, I’m screwed.

  “She didn’t come this way,” I hear what sounds like Harold yell. “She ran over that fuckin’ road.”

  “You didn’t see that,” someone else yells. “She could be in here.”

  “She isn’t!”

  “She’s probably under one of these cars.”

  My heart stutters to an abrupt halt and I begin to panic, wondering what I can do to get out before they see me.

  “Even she’s not that stupid. She’s not in here. Let’s go.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief as they run off towards the road. I lie still as I listen, and after about half an hour, I can no longer hear anything. I risk sliding back out, and peek over the top of the car. There are still people wandering around the entrance, but otherwise it seems they’ve gone. I can’t risk just walking out there. I take in my surroundings. There’s a fence surrounding the parking lot, and over the other side it looks like there are trees. If I could get over it . . .

  I can’t.

  My hands are bound. There’s no way I can climb that fence.

  “My car is there.”

  The sound of a woman’s voice jerks me back to reality, and I turn to see two young girls walking towards their cars. It’s a risk, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I step out and try not to act terrified, like I am. They stop when they see me, and their eyes instantly go to my cuffs.

  “Hi,” I say in the best casual voice I can find. “I know this looks weird, but my boyfriend and I . . . we were . . . you don’t need to know what we were doing. Anyway, he got angry at me and seriously left me here like this. Do either of you have a phone I could borrow to call a friend?”

  “Your boyfriend left you cuffed outside a club?” the red-haired girl asks, scrunching her face.

  “I never claimed he was a good boyfriend.”

  “No, he sounds like a jerk. Here, you can use my phone.”

  She pulls out her phone and hands it to me. I let my eyes dart around the parking lot before entering Santana’s number, which is the only number I know by heart.

  “Hello?” she answers, her voice low and broken.

  “Tana,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “It’s me.”

  “Pippa!” she screeches. “Oh God, Pippa where are you?”

  “Listen, I can’t talk long this isn’t my phone. I’m at the House Of Obsidian. Tell Maddox.”

  I can’t say much more because the girls are watching me with narrowed eyes as it is.

  “Is it dangerous, Pip?”

  “I don’t know, there’s a lot of people here. Please, come and get me.”

  Then I hang up, not wanting to say any more. I hand the phone back to the girl. “Thanks.”

  She nods, and they disappear to their car. When they drive out, I find another small gap and sit down beside a sleek silver car and wait. I hope to God I didn’t just walk them all into a massive trap. If that happens, I’m putting them at further risk of something bad happening.

  I’m so deep in thought I don’t see the couple that appears from the darkness. I hear a giggle, and then lift my eyes to see Max and a young blond woman. She’s got her hands on him and he’s leaning against a massive black truck, arms crossed over his chest. I scoot backwards, praying he won’t see me. I can’t move or else he will. Instead, I watch.

  The girl, who is quite ditzy by the looks of things, is running her hands over Max’s massive arms, smiling up at him with clear invitation. He isn’t touching her; he’s just watching her. “Why did you bring me out here, Kayla?”

  “You didn’t call me back after the other night.”

  He grunts. “Didn’t want to.”

  God, prick.

  “But,” she whines, her face falling, “we had fun.”

  “We fucked, Kayla. That doesn’t class as fun.”

  My heart dips. Max is sleeping with other women. I mean, of course he is; he isn’t with Anabelle anymore. Still, my heart aches for her. She might be angry with him, but she still loves him.

  “You’re not being very nice.” She pouts.

  “Look, I’m busy. If you don’t have anything to share, then leave.”

  She turns with a huff and her eyes fall directly on me. “Why is there a girl sitting by the car?”

  Max’s eyes flash to me and I stop breathing.

  “Leave,” he orders Kayla.

  “But Max . . .”

  “Leave,” he barks.

  She frowns and struts off, head held high. When she’s gone, Max walks towards me. I have no way out. I can’t go backwards because of the fence, and I can’t go forward because he’s covering my exit.

  “You’re causing a lot of problems in there.”

  “I know,” I say, my voice shaky.

  “Causing problems in my club? That I don’t like.”

  He crosses his big arms.

  “I didn’t ask to be kidnapped, Max.”

  He studies me. “You should have run when you had the chance. Sittin’ here ain’t helping your case.”

  “I called Maddox.”

  Max flinches. “I said I didn’t want no fuckin’ shit in my club.”

  “But you’ll allow me to be stuffed in your closet?”

  His jaw goes hard. “Look, girl, I don’t want anything to do with you or them, or whatever they’re doing. Call your club back; tell them to back off.”

  “I can’t. I don’t have a phone.”

  “How’d you call them, then?” he growls.

  “I borrowed one.”

  He pulls one from his back pocket. “Call them.”

  He thrusts it at me and I reach up, catching it with both my hands. “No. I’m not going back in there. I don’t need that life again. I won’t do it. I’d rather die.”

  His brows go up. “You don’t need that life again?”

  I look away.

  “Look, I don’t particularly like Ingro and his fuckin’ goons so I’ll make you a deal. I’ll take you to Maddox if you tell me what you know about my wife.”

  I flinch. “I know nothing about her.”

  “You’re lying,” he grunts. “Guess that means you’re stayin’ here.”

  I sigh and push to my feet. “Fine, if you take me back I’ll tell you what I know about Belle.”

  He nods sharply, then points a finger to the phone. “Move it.”

  “No, I’ll call them off when I arrive and not a second before. I’m small, Max, but I’m not stupid.”

  He growls and then turns, jerking a finger to the left.

  “My car. Get in.”

  He sounds like a caveman, grunting single words at me. I don’t argue—I just walk over quickly and climb into his truck. He swings in a couple of minutes later and starts the car. “You don’t wanna be seen, best you put your head down.”

  I do as he says a
nd put my head down.

  Then I pray.

  ~*~*~*~

  NOW – Pippa

  Max keeps his word and drives me towards the compound. About halfway there, he finally speaks. “Tell me what you know about Ana.”

  Ana. She calls herself Belle now. I wonder if he’s the reason why.

  I consider what I can tell him about her. I don’t want to tell him she lives back here, because it isn’t my place, and I don’t want to put her or Immy in danger. I have to think up a story, something that’s going to work. I think of something that’ll work and share it with him hesitantly. “Her dad recently passed. She had to come back to town for the funeral. I saw her.”

  He’s silent for a minute, then he says in a thick tone, “Her dad died?”

  “Yeah.”

  “When?”

  Shit.

  “I’m not really sure. I told you we weren’t close. I just knew her for a time.”

  “When was she in town?”

  “Oh. Last week,” I say carefully.

  He’s silent again.

  “Is she . . . okay?”

  Oh. God. Max cares about her. He still cares about her. I can hear it in his voice. I turn and study his face, and even though he has no expression on his beautiful features, his body is tight and he’s clutching the steering wheel tightly.

  “She’s doing okay.”

  “Is she happy?”

  I shrug. “I didn’t get enough time with her, but she’s coping, Max. That’s all I could tell you about her happiness.”

  “Is she . . .” His voice turns to stone. “Dating?”

  “No. She isn’t. At least, not that I know of.”

  He nods sharply.

  “Is that all you want to ask?”

  “No, but the things I want to know you won’t be able to answer.”

  I swallow and study him, and then I say softly, “Why did you treat her so badly, if you obviously care about her?”

  He flinches. “Don’t ever pretend to fuckin’ know anything about me.”

  After that, he says nothing more and I don’t push.

  It’s not my place.