Uncontrollable (30 page)

I’m in his face with my hands gripping his shirt in
seconds. “Don’t act like you didn’t fucking know that,” I growl. “What the fuck
do you know about her?”

He shake his head breathing heavy. His breath reeks
of bourbon, and it makes me want to vomit. “Just that he’s been wanting to get
back with her.”

“Where is he?” I shake him.

“I don’t know.”

 “You’re lying,” I hiss.

 I let go of him and shove him back. His knees hit
his chair, and he falls into it. I snap my fingers holding out my hand. Tate
throws me the rope. “Now tell me where in the fuck he is.” I take a step toward
him. “And I will make this much quicker than it has to be.”

 “I know nothing. I swear,” he cries. “Please?” He
raises his hands as in surrender.

I almost laugh. Some big drug dealer he is. All
I’ve done is talk, and he’s already begging.

 I punch him, and he squeals as blood pours from
his nose. “I swear...” He lifts his hands, and I wrap my hand around his neck,
cutting off his air.

 “I
swear
that I will fucking kill you. Now
tell me where in the fuck he is,” I demand squeezing to the point his face
turns red.

I unroll the paper towels
that we took from Dallas’ bathroom then hand some over to Tate.

 “Thanks,” he mumbles as he tries to wipe off his
hands while driving.

I tear some off for myself and wipe off my hands
along with my face. It didn’t take long to get the bastard to talk. We both had
to make him bleed some but it felt good to use him as a punching bag. He told
us that Jax lives with another guy who goes by J. But he’s never met him. He
thinks this J guy owns the house but lives out of town. He just allows Jax to
stay there. Sounds fishy to me but it’s the only lead we have to go on.

We’ve been driving for over thirty minutes and once
again, we are somewhere I’ve never been. But we are no longer in town—we are
out in the middle of nowhere.

 We pull off the paved road and onto a dirt road as
Tate turns off his lights. Trees border either side of us, making it hard to
see where we are going.

 I called Parker and told him to meet us here,
alone. We have a plan but it has to be kept secret for it to go how we want. If
word got out about this, the news would be all over it. We don’t want Angel to
be involved more than she already is. Even her abduction has been kept under
wraps. No media.

Of course all my friends and family knows. Holly
called Micah, but by the time he arrived at Larry’s, we were already long gone.

He and Josh have been blowing up my phone wanting
to know where in the hell I’m at and wanting to know what they can do to help
find her. My father has been calling wanting to know who he needs to throw
money at. I don’t want everyone involved. I will get my answers with fear, not
fucking money.

 “There’s his truck.” Tate points over to Parker’s
dark red truck hidden in the trees. I squint to try to see what he does.

 Tate parks his truck next to him, and we get out
quietly. “How far is the house from here?” I ask.

“About a quarter of a mile,” Parker informs us. “I
walked it and saw lights on, so I know someone is there.”

I nod my head. “Let’s go.”

We all stay quiet and lay low as we make our way to
the house. Once we get past all the trees I can see a small house in front of
us. On the outside, it looks rundown and old. White wood hanging off the sides
and shingles missing off of the top.

I come to a halt and my arm shoots out hitting Tate
in the chest. “What?” he harshly whispers.

 His eyes follow where mine are looking and he sees
it; her car. Sitting to the side of the house. It looks muddy, like it went
through a mud hole, but it’s here. That means she has to be here.

 I feel instant relief.
I’ve found her.
I
also feel instant rage like I’ve never experienced.

 I take off in a mad dash as the guys holler after
me. We had a plan, and I’m not sticking to it.

 I leap over the porch, kicking the front door in,
and instantly spot Jax on the couch sipping on a beer. He throws it in my
direction and jumps up off of the couch and runs. I leap over the couch and
jump right on top of him. Pushing his face down into the nasty stained carpet.
Breathing heavy and ready to snap, I lean up and flip him over.

He smiles up at me. His brown eyes are dull, his
skin ashen. “What are you gonna do?” he taunts. “Kill me?”

 I grab his shirt and yank him up so his face is
right in front of mine. “You don’t deserve death, you deserve to suffer for the
rest of your life,” I growl. “Where is she?” I demand.

“She’s not here.” He gives a little laugh. “And
nothing you do to me will save her. I know her fate.” He spits in my face.

 I will murder him if I have to in order for him to
talk. He will tell me where she is. I push him back down to the ground and
punch him in the face. I wrap my hand around his throat and squeeze. I smile,
it feels so good to finally have my hands on this sorry bastard. “I’ll tell you
what I
am
going to do though. I’m going to kick you around for a little
bit like you’re a fucking play toy. Then I’m going to hand you over to Tate,” I
say looking up at Tate and Parker now standing by us in the living room both breathing
heavy. “He’s going to make you wish I’d just killed you.” I tighten my hand
around his throat as he tries to wiggle out from underneath me. “Then Parker is
going to arrest your sorry ass, and you will spend the rest of your life in
jail.” I’m shouting, I’m so furious.

 I stand up off him, and I shake my hands down to
my side. My entire body is vibrating.

He turns onto his side and starts coughing and
taking in ragged breaths. “It’ll never stick.” He chokes on the words. “I’ll be
out before you know it. I know people in this town.”

I smirk. “So do I, you motherfucker.” I look up at
Parker as the corner of his lips start to lift.

 “I know people as well,” Tate states as he reaches
his hand into his leather jacket pocket. He pulls out the plastic baggie that
contains the pills he was pretending to buy from Dallas. He walks over to the
coffee table and pours them out, not touching them and then pockets the now
empty baggie. “You have a very nasty habit, Jax,” he says with a smirk. “If I
don’t kill you.” He slowly starts to take off his leather jacket. “Those for
sure will.” He throws his jacket over the back of the stain ridden couch and
looks down at him.

 “Fuck all of you,” Jax spits out as he jumps to
stand.

Tate moves quickly; his right fist makes contact
with Jax’s jaw, and it snaps back. He goes to fall but Tate catches him and
slams his back into the wall. Tate steps back and punches him in the stomach.
He doubles over in pain, and Tate lifts his knee; connecting with Jax’s face.
This time Tate lets him fall to the ground.

I look up to see how Parker is reacting, but he’s
no longer in the room.

 “Where is she?” I demand again as I kick him. If
she’s not here then where the fuck could she possibly be?

 “Fuck you,” he groans.

 I go to walk away, to let Tate finish the job; she
has to be in this house somewhere. I don’t see him taking her and then leaving
her side, but Jax gets my attention as he groans on the floor. “You’re all
dead.” His high pitch voice makes me laugh. “Even her. The fucking bitch isn’t
worth it.” He rolls over onto his stomach and slowly makes it to his knees.

My laughter dies, and my jaw clenches.

Tate reaches out and kicks him in the side with so
much force it has him flying back into the wall. “If I go, you’re going with
me,” he states walking over to him.

“Slade?” Parker’s panicked voice comes from what
sounds like below us.

 I look over at Tate. “I’m fine. Go.”

 I take off out of the living room and down a long
hall. “Parker?” I yell.

“Down here.”

I turn left at the hallway and find an open door
that leads down to a basement. I jump three or four stairs at a time. Once I
hit the bottom I look around but see nothing but walls that look like dividers
throughout the basement.

“Where are you?” I shout.

“Back.”

 I make my way past all the walls to the very back
and see Parker leaning down over a sleeping Angel. She is lying on her stomach,
and Parker is cutting a zip tie that restrains her wrists behind her back.

 I drop down beside her and turn her over in my
arms. I faintly hear Tate yell ‘motherfucker’ from above us.

My breath catches in my throat when I see the
bruises on her face and neck. She has a big gash on her head that has blood
running down the left side of her face. “Angel?” I choke.

Parker cuts the zip tie around her ankles as I hold
her limp body in my arms. I push her dirty and blood stained hair back from her
face. I check for a pulse and sigh in relief that she has one.

“What’s wrong with her?” I look to him, and he
jumps up. He ignores my question. I look back down to her and see her shirt
ripped, it hangs off of her shoulders, and I tighten my grip on her.

He’s dead. Jax is dead. I will fucking rip his
throat out.

 “Drugged.” Parker’s voice cuts through my
thoughts.

 “What?” My voice shakes from anger as I turn my
head to see what he’s talking about.

 He points to an empty syringe lying on the ground.
His dark eyes meet mine, and they are full of sorrow. “He drugged her. That’s
what’s wrong with her,” he says softly.

 “With what?” I demand.

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. But whatever it
was, he gave her all of it because it’s empty.” He starts looking around to see
if he can find anything to determine what it is.

 “No,” I breathe as my head snaps back to face her.
“It’s okay, Angel,” I say, my throat tightening. “It’s gonna be okay.” I place
my other arm underneath her legs and lift her as I stand. “We have to leave.”
The panic is evident in my voice. Fuck Jax needing to die. I need her to live.

 I rush up the stairs and down the hallway. I stop
in the living room when I find Jax on his back, eyes shut, not moving. Looks
like Tate did the job for me.

 Tate’s breathing heavily, sweating, his jaw tight
and eyes hard. He has a slash across his chest cutting through his shirt—what’s
left of his black t-shirt is soaked in blood. His usual chain hanging against
his leg is gone as well.

“What happened?” Parker asks breathless from
running to catch up with me.

Tate takes a few deep breaths trying to calm his
anger. “The motherfucker had a knife in his back pocket.”

Then his eyes land on his sister’s body lying in my
arms. Her shirt, as well, ripped exposing her pink lace bra and stomach. His
brows pinch together, and he shakes his head as if he’s trying to clear the
vision that he’s seeing of his sister.

 “He drugged her,” Parker announces.

 Tate rolls his shoulders and looks down at Jax.
His jaw tightens, and he swallows hard. He fists his hands down by his sides a
few times before turning and walking over to the couch. He grabs his jacket and
then lays it over her to cover her up.

 “We need to know,” I state trying to keep all my
emotions in. I want to scream. I want to cry. I just want her to wake up and
look at me—to know she’s okay.

 Tate nods and walks over to what I think is a dead
Jax. He leans down and slaps him. “Wake up,” he demands.

 Jax doesn’t move. That’s when I notice the knife
sticking out of Jax’s thigh. Tate grabs a hold of the hilt and twists it.

 Jax screams as his eyes spring open. “What the
fuck did you give her?” He twists it again. “Tell me,” he shouts.

Jax’s back arches, and he grabs his leg as he
screams out.

 Tate yanks the blade out of Jax’s leg, and he
rolls onto his side pulling his leg up to his chest, breathing heavy and crying
out in agony.

 Tate stands over him. “If you don’t tell me right
now, this knife is going to go into your chest,” Tate says holding the knife up
ready to pounce on him again.

Jax rolls over and holds his hands up. “Don’t,” he
cries. “It was ketamine,” he squeals. “Gave her ketamine,” he repeats. “It just
knocked her out. The bitch was screaming and fighting…” he rambles.

 Parker slaps my shoulder. “She’ll be okay. You
guys go, take her to the hospital. I’ll take care of the rest.”

“I’m not leaving,” Tate declares as he continues to
stand over Jax with the blade in his hand. “I did this. I knew what it was
going to cost me.”

Parker looks from Angel in my arms to her brother.
“Looks like it’s going to cost you some stitches and a new shirt.” He nods to
the door. “Now, get the fuck out of here.”

 I don’t stay to hear them bicker anymore. I run
out the front door with her in my arms. By the time I get past the trees and to
the trucks, Tate is opening the passenger door for me.

 The engine roars and tires squeal as I look down
at the love of my life lying in my arms. Beside the bruises, blood, and the
drugs, she looks so peaceful—but I know her stay with him was far from
peaceful. It had to have been horrifying. And for that I feel my resolve break.