Page 78 of Bullet

The hood gets yanked roughly off my head and the duct tape follows, ripping out my hair and burning painfully against my skin. Even the low lights are too bright after that absolute darkness. I blink a few times to clear my watering eyes.

I was right about the warehouse. It’s not some dumpy, unused place, though. There are stacks upon stacks of pallets and boxes wrapped up, ready for shipping. A distribution center? This seems kind of high end for some rather low end kidnapping.

I can’t say I’m surprised when Harold Jacobs steps from the shadows, average in every way despite his expensively cut charcoal suit, leather shoes, flashy watch, and gaudy rings.

He’s ready to tell me why I’m here, as if I can’t guess already. There’s nothing wrong with my brain now. The shock of being taken is wearing off and my mind is already churning over a thousand different options, giving me answers to the endless questions, and trying to find a way out of this.

A man like Harold Jacobs feeds off fear. Don’t all bottom feeders? However he might disguise himself, he’s got a black soul motivated solely by greed. I refuse to let a man like him break me.

I don’t struggle against the bindings, because that would just be foolish, but I quickly set my face in a hard mask that eliminates all traces of emotion. “Kidnapping and a warehouse? Kind of token, don’t you think?” I give him a dispassionate onceover that lets him know I think he’s pretty much the same. Just a cliché villain.

He rolls his shoulders back and keeps coming in those measured strides. The confidence on his face is real. His ego is so big that he thinks he’ll win whatever game he’s playing.

I know I have to still be in Seattle, though it might be the outskirts, or right in the middle, in one of the many industrial areas. “Who owns this place? Aren’t they going to be pissed you’re using it for lowbrow criminal activities?”

He’s close enough now that I can smell his strong cologne. It’s expensive, but he’s used too much and it’s enough to gag a person. Harold Jacobs is a man who thinks he can cloak himself in expensive clothing, jewelry, and cologne. He thinks that by having the best of everything, it makes him worthy of something. Respect? Awe?

Really, I think it all just masks the stench of his mediocrity.

“I don’t know what you think you’re going to accomplish by taking me.” Either these men never touched Willa because they couldn’t get close enough, or they’re holding her somewhere else. She has to be okay. My brain can’t fathom a world where that’s not true. “But it’s not going to get you what you want. I’m the club’s lawyer, nothing more.”

Harold twists the ring on his pinkie finger. A solid gold band, like he considers himself a real gangster. “You’re Bullet’s whore. That makes you one of theirs. They look after their own. They’ll come for you.”

He obviously gave them the address. It just makes me more doubtful that Willa is here at all. I think she’s safe, though she’s probably panicked about what’s happened to me. It gives me both a bubbling sense of relief and a hot jolt of panic to think of the club mobilizing right now, heading here to get me. They’ll be coming straight into a trap. They have to know that.

I thought Wizard was tacking Harold and Donny’s movements, but the world is vast, and Wizard is just one person. What chance did he really have? It would have been easy enough for them to creep back into the country. But why? Why risk it all when they got away free and clear, especially when the club had gotten them to sign confessions?

Then it hits me that the club sent money to Donny’s victims, but they never paid the blackmail. Harold is still in the same desperate spot. “You think the club is going to pay you millions of dollars to get me back? That’s insane.”

Harold’s jaw clenches, a warning that I should shut up. I can feel the tension radiating from him. He might appear confident, but on the inside, I’m not so sure. He bristles and draws back his hand, but leaves the threat hanging there. He strikes me as the type who likes to issue threats and let someone else carry out his dirty work.

“It doesn’t matter. Tyrant and Raiden are running the place, and they have a stupid, misguided sense of loyalty. Their precious people are all that matters to them. They’re the most pathetic excuse for a club I’ve ever seen.”

He’s wrong. There’s nothing pathetic about men who have a bond so strong they’d do anything for each other. That is the most beautiful form of brotherhood. I thought falling for a man like Bullet, choosing to get on the back of his bike, would be the end of my old life and the old me, but in reality, it wasn’t the end of anything. It was just a beautiful beginning. I’m a part of the club now, and, unfortunately, Harold’s right. They’ll do anything to get me back.

“Even if they were willing to pay it, they don’t have that kind of money on hand.” That’s the truth and Harold has to know that.

He studies his rings again, as though he’s already growing bored with this mundane conversation. “They’ll find it. I didn’t spend years dealing with their fucking shit to not get paid my dues.”

“Your son is a rapist. When is he going to get his dues?”

Something snaps in Harold. I shouldn’t have pushed him, forcing him to confront the truth so brutally. A crazed light flickers on behind his cold blue eyes like a parting with reality. His face scrunches and a sick smile twists his lips.

I was wrong about him not getting his hands dirty. I realize that a second before the backhand blow glances off my cheek. White-hot pain detonates at the impact. My head snaps back and to the side with the force of the blow, my skin splitting and hot blood trickling from the cut his ring just made.

“Shut up, bitch!” Harold commands, spittle landing on my face, stinging the painful burning, broken flesh. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

I can’t obey. I can’t be silent in the face of this wrong. “He confessed. So did you.’

He backs off, chuckling manically. “No one will ever believe that those confessions are real. Not when they understand they were taken after torture and under duress.”

“You’re thinking you can just roll over on the club to save yourself once they hand over your confessions to the police, which was your penalty for ever coming back here. You might be protected, sure, but what about Donny? Four counts of rape with evidence? Even with a reduced sentence, he’d still get plenty of time. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison?”

Harold draws back his hand again. I wince on instinct, screwing my eyes shut and waiting for it, but the blow doesn’t land. “I’ll get him off,” he hisses smugly.

“With what? By pleading insanity?” I watch him carefully, realizing that something has happened to him. I don’t know when, but it’s not just evil at work here. It’s like he’s lost touch with reality. “Getting wasted and taking drugs doesn’t count as insanity. Donny wouldn’t last a day in jail, and you know it. By ratting on the club, you’d be implicated in helping them cover up all their illegal activities.”

“I have friends in high places, as you already know. Just the right word in the right ear, and things will go away.”

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