Brian comes back to us and raise an expecting eyebrow at Ike and Noah. "Well?"
The guys give him the same info they gave me, and my heart clench when he frown worriedly. "If they're already seeking contact it shouldn't take them long to realize that Hall's organization has been completely dismantled. And after that it won't take them long to realize that Hall can't possibly pay to have Caia delivered to him."
"What are they gonna do to Caia then?" Noah asks, and I see my own worry mirrored in his eyes. I don't know much about Noah Wilder, but I always wondered what he was doing in Ike's gang. I know he has three younger sisters he protects fiercely, along with his mother who's a single parent. I know he has a reputation for being a coldblooded, methodical fighter, but not getting into fights unnecessarily, and for protecting innocent bystanders. It's why I'm comfortable with him around Bambi. Had he been born into another neighborhood he probably would have become a cop or something equally honorable.
"If we're extremely lucky they haven't let her see their faces and they might let her go." Brian's tone makes it clear that he's more likely to believe in fairies than the happening of that particular scenario. "But most likely they'll kill her to protect themselves."
The clenching of my stomach worsens. "So what do we do now?"
"While we wait for Miller to call, I'm gonna call a few of my contacts to put pressure on the judge, so we can get a hold of that warrant quicker. You three," he points to us, "are gonna hit the streets and see if you can catch yourself one of those lackeys running around."
"Are we allowed to beat him up?" Ike asks eagerly, a savage smile painting his features.
Brian's eyes narrow. "No." Without another word he turns and walks to his car.
"Let's go." I say and together we walk to Ike's car to find a sorry son of a bitch to interrogate. In any way we must.
*****
Caia
Without a watch or clock of any kind, I'm having trouble keeping track of time, but it must have been at least a few hours before I hear the faint sound of approaching footsteps.
I was tired and the thumping of my head had worsened, making it difficult to keep concentrating on listening at the door, when all I really wanted was go back to the mattress and sleep for a year. So when I hear the steps I have to scramble to my feet and fumble with the pipe I placed on the ground beside me.
Taking my place beside the door I raise the pipe high above my head, ready to bring it down on the psychopathic doctor. I tense when I hear the distinct beeping of numbers being punched into the keypad outside the door. There is a low whirling sound and then the door opens.
The doctor takes one step into the room and then I swing my weapon down were I expect his head to be.
A tray falls to the ground and a deep cursing resounds in the room. It takes me less than a split second to realize that the intruder is too big to be doctor Samuel.
Meaning his head isn't where I thought it would be.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit!
"Fucking bitch!" he snarls.
In panic I raise the pipe again and make another go at his head, but he raise his arm to deflect the hit and reciprocate by giving me a fist in the stomach. The breath leaves my body and my fingers slacken on the pipe, but thankfully not enough for it to fall.
I take a halfhearted swing at his shoulder, and while it hits, it's too weak to do anything but bruise him.
Enraged, he steps closer and backhands me, sending me crashing against the wall. Dizzily I raise the pipe, but before I can do anything, he grabs it with both hands and use it to put pressure on my throat, forcing me back.
With my back against the wall he moves close, limiting my movements with his body and keeping the pressure on my throat up, cutting off my air.
His breath is stale and vile against my face as he leans in close. "Gonna fuck up your shit real good, you little bitch!"
I trash against him, arching my back to push him away, but he just laughs in my face. The lack of air brings black dots to my eyes, and when I feel him begin rubbing against me, I panic and let go of the pipe to push frantically at his shoulders.
He laughs again and to my horror I feel something swell against my stomach. Desperately running through every self-defense move Brian ever taught me, I finally come up with the perfect one, when the dots fill almost all of my vision.
Mercilessly I jab both my thumps into his eyes, applying as much pressure as I can in my weakened state. The good thing about this move is that you don't have to use much force for this to become extremely unpleasant.
With a yowl, he lets go of the pipe and jumps back away from me. I blindly reach for the fallen weapon and take a shot at him. It's pure luck that I hit his groin.
He falls to his knees with a groan, hands clutching his sore parts, and I bring down the pipe on his head. Once, twice, trice and then a fourth time just to be on the safe side. When I'm done he's laying on the floor with a gash on his head bleeding profusely, but with a steady rise and fall of his chest.
Leaning against the wall I allow myself a few seconds to catch my breath and blink away the remaining dizziness. Then I move into action again, dropping the pipe but pulling the metal from my bra. Walking over to the henchman I carefully poke him, making sure he's completely knocked out. I grab his arm and try to drag him to the mattress to cuff him to the stripper pole, but my efforts are in vain. The guy is almost twice my size and in my weakened state I can barely move him an inch, so I make do with cuffing his hands behind his back, making it difficult for him to use the keypad should he wake up.
That done, I pick up the pipe and walk out of the open door, briefly glancing at the fallen tray and what I assume should have been my dinner.
Stale bread, rice with peas and a glass of now spilled water. Yum. Nevertheless I pick up the bread because I haven't eaten since the dance, so my stomach I clenching painfully with hunger and from the hit it took.
I make sure the door is locked behind me before taking in the hall I'm standing in.
There's LED lights in the ceiling, but no windows or convenient exit signs. Like the room I was held captive in the floor, walls and ceiling are made of gray cement.
With no indication of where to go, I turn right and jogging down the corridor, listening intensely for any telling sounds of human activity.
I try a few random doors, but the rooms which aren't locked looks strikingly similar to the one I came from and I can't waste time examining them. I look through the windows of the doors which have them, searching for a way out. The lack of windows leading outside makes me more and more sure that I'm in some kind of basement.
I nearly scream in frustration when the corridor turns out to be a dead end. I haven't encountered any turns to be made. I'm gonna have to double back. Spinning on my heel I start running, a strange sense of urgency pushing me onward.
I've almost reached my starting point when the yelling and banging begins.
Seems the brute is awake. Great.
Speeding up I run past the room I was held in. The guy inside is still yelling profanities and I think he's throwing his entire body against the door. It won't be long before someone hears him and comes calling. I doubt they'll be friends of mine.
I desperately grab the handle of each door I pass, and almost yip in joy when one opens. Slipping inside, I close the door and crouch down with my ear pressed against it. It's not long before I hear several thundering feet running past, and as soon as I can't hear them anymore I carefully open the door and peek outside, just glimpsing a foot disappearing around the corner. Getting out I softly jog to the opposite corner before resuming running as fast as I can in my dance dress, endlessly thankful to my past self for choosing to wear comfortable shoes with a small heel.
This corridor ends in front of a door with a stairs sign on. Just in time too, because I can hear the sound of feet running in my direction.
Despite my breathlessness I take the stairs two at a time until I reach the next floor. Tumbling through one of the doors I spare a moment to familiarize myself with my new surroundings. It looks like one of those big rooms where companies have all their employees working, only separated by thin two meter high walls. Some of the cubicles are still standing, and there's papers and dirt on the floor. A closed office building maybe?
The sound of steps on the stairs have me moving again, this time to the nearest door on the other side of the room. Halfway across I hear the sound of the stairwell door smashing into the wall.
"Stop!"
Of course I ignore the growling voice, instead speeding up reaching the door in record time.
Just as I grab the handle, a gun goes off.
*****
Liam
Growling in frustration, I run a hand through my hair, tugging aggressively at the strands. At this rate I'll go bald, but the small flies Ike mentioned seems to have gone to ground. There's no trace of them anywhere and none of Ike's goons have caught one either.
"Fuckers delivered their message and went home to drink bad beer and watch football." Ike says, clearly as annoyed as I am that we've walked the streets thin for nearly two hours without anything to show for it.
"Should we go to Johnny's?" Noah asks.
I think about it. Johnny's might be filled with all kinds of scum, but I doubt any big player in the criminal underworld would ever be caught dead in there.
Ike must have been thinking the same thing. "Nah, the kind of contacts they're looking for won't be there." A thoughtful expression cross this face. "Would the Hell Raisers know anything?" he asks Noah who shrugs in response.
The Hell Raisers are a nomadic bunch of bikers. They are rarely in town, but pass through regularly on their way to their official compound a few towns over. I was in a bar brawl with them a little over a year ago and it was great. They even offered me a place as a prospect, but they withdrew the offer when they found out I was a rich kid. Called me preppy. Not that I would have accepted. The Raisers were into some dark shit, drugs, flesh and 'protection'. I like fighting, I don't like fucking other peoples' lives up.
"I don't know. I don't' think they're in town, but if they are they'll be at their strip club and someone will have approached them about Hall." Noah says.
I cast them both a suspicious look. "What do you guys have to do with The Raisers?" I was just beginning to think better about Ike, and now this?
Ike shrugs. "We've been approached a few times."
I'm about to inquire more about their connection to the shady bikers when Bambi's cell rings in my pocket. I pull it out and answer Brian's call.
"Yeah?"
"Miller just called. He told me who hired him."
The words send my heart into overdrive. "What changed his mind?"
"His wife laid the guild trip on him. She's a sweet old lady who volunteered a lot before getting ill. She didn't like what her husband was doing."
Mrs. Miller is getting on my Christmas card list. Or she would if I had one. As it is I'll settle for paying her medical bills. "Who was it?"
"Does the name Jasper Samuel mean anything to you?"
Son of a bitch!