Wring: Road Kill MC #5 (18 page)

“Come here, virgin bitch.”

My stomach does a slick, slow roll. The
delicious shake threatens to dive back up my throat.

I'm no virgin.

Another gangbanger has Rose, his arms wrapped
around her.

I gulp back my fear. There's more than me in
this scenario.

“Don't hurt my baby, please,” Rose says, tears
streaming down her face.

Another gangbanger holds a wailing Aria by the
waist, legs and arms dangling.

My gaze swings to Lopez.
Oh God, oh God, oh
God.

“Well, that depends,” Lopez says, his eyes
shifting to mine. “If your friend cooperates, then we leave you two
bitches here.” His eyes sweep over the baby, and icy dread slithers
down my spine. “The little bitch and the big bitch.” He laughs,
reaching out. He grabs Rose's large breast and mounds it, tweaking
the nipple.

She mewls, turning her head away. “Noose will
kill you if you hurt us,” she says through her fear.

He twists her nipple, and she screams. The baby
hollers louder, sympathetic terror causing her eyes to leap from
one gangbanger to the other.

The gangbanger shakes her.

“I'll do it!” I scream above their cries.

“What will you do, Shannon?” Lopez says with
soft menace.

“Anything,” I answer instantly. “Just leave Rose
and the baby alone.”

Lopez smiles. “Dump the kid in a crib somewhere
and tie up the cunt.”

The gangbanger stalks into all the rooms, and
Rose clutches the arms that hold her, every bit of her body
straining toward her crying child.

He comes out empty-handed. “Got the little bitch
where she belongs. Kiddie prison.” As he smirks, the teardrop
tattoos on his cheek rise with the insincere lift of lips.

“Now you're coming with us. We got a surprise
for you, too.”

I don't like how he says “surprise,” and my
heart begins to thump.

“Shannon,” Rose calls out, and the gangbanger
backhands her.

“Don't,” Lopez says. “If we don't do anything to
his woman, we can still be in the clear.”

The guy hauls Rose to her feet. He scrapes a
kitchen chair away from the same table I ate pancakes at and sets
it behind her. A heavy hand on her shoulder thumps her in
place.

He extracts zip ties from his pocket and locks
her ankles and hands into place with a ripping sound of
plastic.

Lopez approaches, and Rose cowers. “You tell
your man to stay out of it. Or I let my boys that don't have any
conscious come over and work you over.” His eyes move to the other
end of the house, where Aria screams from her crib, and he adds,
“And the kid.”

Rose blanches then nods robotically, while fresh
tears drip off her chin and onto her hands.

“You'll wish you were dead by the time we're
done with you.” His hungry gaze moves to her breasts, and Rose
bravely stares him down.

“I'd have fun fucking you, Road Kill property.”
He licks his lips and folds his arms, looking down at her. “Be
smart, protect your daughter.”

“What about Shannon?” Rose asks with soft
insistence.

I shut my eyes.
God.

“Forget her. Shannon's a ghost. You know,
something you say you saw, and no one believes.”

He wraps his hand around my bicep. His thumb
touches his forefinger. “Come on,” he hisses in my ear and takes me
out of Rose's.

Leading me down the hall, he comes to the fire
exit door and a snarling mess of wires, obviously the result of
disabling the alarm, hang from an electrical panel.

The gangbangers follow us.

As do the cries of a little girl and her
mama.

*

Noose races up the escape ladder to the
condo.

Elevator's out of commission.

His long strides eat the treads like candy, and
Lariat, Snare, and I follow.

He grips the metal rails on either side and
blasts in the emergency exit door with a well-placed
shitkicker.

Female cries reach my ears, and Noose sprints
through the open door without checking his points.

I guess if my wife and child were in peril, I
would charge in, too.

Whipping around through the open door, I catch
sight of Rose. She's gagged with a Blood bandana, and tears have
soaked it.

Noose is not with her, and I go to her, taking
my folding blade from my front pocket, and cut the ties at the
hands.

Her eyes move behind me.

I duck. The whistle of my utility blade is the
only sound as I whirl in a three-sixty, burying the blade into the
gut of a gangbanger.

His eyes round in surprise.

If they'd done their homework, they would
understand how dumb their methods are.

If I weren’t in my head, I would have looked at
my weak spots before entering.

Neither of us did. Shows how gone we are on the
girls. How careless we are.

I thrust the blade up, and though small, weapons
are liquid in my hands, following the extension of my will like a
part of my body.

His guts, a steamy mess of glistening pearly
worms, tumble to the floor.

Rose starts puking.

I turn.

His hand grabs my ankle as his other tries to
hold his guts inside his body.

“Persistent fucker,” I say from the casual place
I go when I kill.

I sweep the sharp blade down, sawing through his
seeking fingers without much trouble.

The digits fall like decapitated flesh trees on
the floor.

Rose tries to get away, and the chair tips.

I catch it with my gory hand and right it.

Squatting beside her feet, I begin to cut off
the zip ties there. She screams in a blast of raw terror that takes
me back to the Middle East.

I've heard that sound. It’s like a bellowing
alarm of impending death.

Wild-eyed, Noose charges into the room, carrying
little Aria, who’s hiccupping back sobs.

“What the righteous fuck?” he yells, checking
out the carnage.

“Cutting the wife loose,” I reply evenly, though
my fingers tremble just the slightest bit from the noise that Rose
made.

What do they call my reaction? Oh yeah,
post-traumatic stress or some clinical shit like that.

“Hey, baby—it's going to be okay,” Noose says in
a soothing voice, taking a step toward her.

Then he steps on a finger. He looks down, raises
an eyebrow at me, and kicks it aside.

Noose glowers.

“Hey, man, didn't check your corners, just came
charging in. I had some clean up here.”

We exchange a glance.

“ʼKay.” Noose looks at Rose.

She's staring off into space.

“God, baby—I'm so sorry.”

Aria begins to cry then wraps her arms around
her dad's neck.

Rose breaks, great hitching sobs cutting the
space like knives. She stands, but her knees buckle, and Noose
catches her, whispering words I can't hear.

Rose shakes her head, tears flying from her
cheeks.

“Ya gotta, baby.” Noose cradles her face, and
Lariat comes in, holding out his arms.

“Let me take the munchkin.” Noose hands her off,
and I walk to Rose.

“Rose.”

She turns in my direction, new tears flowing
over the tracks of the last. “I can't, Wring.”

She turns to Noose. “He said he'd come back here
and…” Rose's hands clench. “Hurt Aria.”

Noose sucks in a breath. “Nobody's hurting my
family, Rose.”

She leans back, her head tipping back. “Noose,
they got inside somehow.”

His hand slaps the table so hard, the wood
cracks. “The fucking emergency escape was wired. They had someone
undo it—the only weakness.”

“If they can get in once, they can get in again.
Gotta booby trap this place to death,” Snare says.

“Yeah. Duh,” Noose says, incinerating him with a
glance.

“Where is Shannon?” I ask.

All eyes turn to me.

Noose looks back at Rose, hauling her against
him. “They didn't hurt Aria. I'm pissed as fuck they broke in here,
but they didn't really do anything but scare you.”

“I'm terrified, Noose.” Rose wipes away her
tears. “Does this mean you won't kill them, Noose—that we can just
ignore them?”

I grin.

Noose gives an almost imperceptible shake of his
head. “No, baby. They're all gonna die. They threatened my family.”
The pitch of his voice lowers to a growl. “They touched our
daughter. We're lucky Charlie was with your parents.” He lifts her
chin with a finger. “And as sure as I'm standing here, I bet that
Lopez couldn't keep his hands off my property.”

His eyes search her face.

“Yes,” she admits in the barest thread of a
whisper.

“See?” he lifts his shoulders, releasing her
chin.

Rose grips the collar of his cut, crunching the
leather. “Don't, Noose. Shannon went with them so we wouldn't be
hurt.”

“And what kind of man would I be if I didn't go
and get her back—Wring?”

She looks at me. “I'm so sorry.”

I shake my head. “I just need to get to Shannon,
and the rest of them will fall.”

Noose nods. “Simple.”

“It's never simple.” Rose reaches for Aria.

“You're not going to drop the kid, are ya? Seem
kinda shaky.” Noose's chin jerks back.

Rose takes an unsteady breath. “I think I'll be
okay.”

She grabs the kid and checks her over. She
presses the baby's head against her shoulder. “I can't believe
they'd hurt her.”

Noose just shakes his head. The violence is
coiled inside him like a cobra.

I see it. Lariat and Snare sure as fuck do.

“Can't hurt women and children when you're not
breathing.”

Then Rose stands on tiptoe, leaning forward and
tells him something.

Lopez's hand on my nape is brutal and insistent.
He shoves me through a door, kicking it closed behind him.

I skid to my knees, hissing through the impact.
Slowly, I raise my head.

Mom is on a cot.

Her eyes are closed. I can't see her chest rise
and fall with her breathing.

Is
she
breathing?

I struggle to a standing position, wince at the
pain, and walk slowly to where Mom lies. I need to know if she's
already gone.

Dreading it, I check her visually. She is
breathing. But her lips are blue.

I don't know enough about medical stuff to know
what happened between the time they took her and now.

There are no meds.

I sink to my haunches, devastated.

There is no tea or water.

I pick up her hand, soothing myself with the
familiar motion of petting her fingers with my own. I lay my cheek
against her fragile skin.

Sobs suck out of me. Mom doesn't need my tears
and hysteria. She needs my strength.

Her eyes open. “Darling.”

“Oh God, Mom—did they hurt you?” I wipe my
eyes.

Her smile is small. “Not really. Though I don't
think they were especially patient with my issues.”

I dump my head on the side of her cot and
cry.

Mom puts her hand on my head and strokes my hair
like she used to when I was little. “I always knew I would die
sooner than later, Shannon.”

I lift my face, and her bulbous knuckles scrape
the wet sadness that courses down my face. “Don't cry.” Lying on
her side, reaching up, she cradles my face with her hands. “They
hope to use me as leverage to force my beautiful daughter to do
ugly things.”

I nod because there's no other answer.

She knows it. I know it.

Suddenly her smile turns wicked. “I dialed
9-1-1, darling. When I heard the first thug break through the door,
I dialed. Then I told the wonderful girl on the other end to be
quiet.”

I blink. “You what?”

Slowly, she extracts my tired prepaid phone out
of her lounge pants pocket.

“They didn't see this?”

She shakes her head.

I grab the phone and sit back on my butt. There
are no minutes left. The battery power has one bar.

“How much?” I hit the cell on my forehead.
Think, Shannon.
“How long were you connected to 9-1-1
dispatch?”

Mom lifts one shoulder, grimaces in discomfort,
and lets her arm fall softly to her side. She takes a slight breath
and lets it out.

She shuts her eyes as though too tired to keep
them open. “Perhaps long enough.”

Her eyelids open, revealing bright eyes, armed
in the fierce intelligence she's always had. “I'm dying.”

I grip her hands as tightly as I dare. “No,
Mom.”

Noise bursts from outside the door, and we
cringe.

Mom answers quietly, “Yes, Shannon. At my last
doctor's appointment… well, I refused hospice.”

“Oh, Mom!” I cry in a hoarse whisper, scooping
her against me, but she gently pushes me away.

Searching my eyes, she says, “I thought it would
be easier on you if my imminent demise occurred naturally rather
than all the big build up and drama of a foretelling. Dr. Freeman
did say that I needed a heart shunt. Without one, I had days—not
weeks.” Her compassionate face sees only me.

I see only her.

Her fingers trail down my face. “So you see,
darling, there is no extending my life. My heart is failing. But I
believe I might not have failed you. There should be rescuers
coming soon.”

“Don't leave me, Mama,” I say through my
tears.

“Listen to me, Shannon. Survive this.” Her eyes
sharpen, glittering with her command. “Let yourself love this
young, rough man.”

I cock my head. “Why do you like Wring?”

She smiles. “He saved my daughter.”

“Twice,” I whisper.

Mom nods. “Remember what I told you when you
were small?”

I do. “Actions speak louder than words.”

“Yes. And his are screaming to be noticed.” Her
kind eyes dim. “Notice him, Shannon.”

Her grip begins to soften.

“Mom!” I yell.

But her eyes are fluttering. Shutting.