Page 91 of Banshee
I shot another Death Dog before they realized what was happening and pulled their own guns.
“Don’t kill him!”
I felt the burn of the bullet hitting my shoulder, and another in my leg. I fell back, hitting my head on something. As I lay there, bleeding, I heard them giving orders.
“Howler, call the prospect and get him up here with that van.”
“What do you want to do about Pepper?”
“Fucking leave him for the vultures.”
“Get this one packed up. We’re taking him back to the clubhouse. He clearly has information we need.”
The blackness closed in around me as their voices faded. My last thought was of Aspen, splayed out on my bed, waiting for me.
The pounding in my head woke me up. Or maybe it was the quiet voice I heard.
“Psst, hey. Are you awake?”
I groaned as my hand reached for my head and I realized it was tied down. I opened one eye and saw my hands tied to a chair. I tried to move my feet only to find they were tied up as well.
“Hey, wake the fuck up.”
I raised my head and saw a girl tied to the chair in front of me. I shook my head trying to clear the ghosts. I would swear I was looking at my baby sister.
“Asshole, wake up,” she hissed.
“Asshole? What the fuck did I do?”
I turned away from her to look around the dark room we were in. My mind was fucking with me. I’d think I was in Hell, but my sister wouldn’t be there. Kaylah was pure. She was everything good in my life. And looking around at the dirt floor and bars on the windows, this certainly wasn’t Heaven.
“Where are we?”
“The clubhouse,” she sneered.
“What clubhouse?”
“The Death Dogs’. What did you do to piss them off?” she asked, and I focused on her again.
Her eyes were blue, deep like the Caribbean Sea. Brighter than my sister’s. I hadn’t realized until she was gone how little light my sister had in her eyes. I hadn’t realized my father had snuffed it out.
Her hair was blonde—a shade lighter than Kaylah’s. But her cheeks were high, like my baby sister’s. Her chin had the same dimple Kaylah had.
If I didn’t know better, I’d swear it was her. But this girl was young. Mid-twenties, maybe.
“Why are you here?”
“How much time you got?”
I looked down at my wrists that were tied tightly to the chair and then smiled at her. “Doesn’t look like I’m going anywhere.”
“Story of my fucking life.”
“What’s your name?” I asked her.
“You don’t know my name? You don’t know who I am?”
My head hurt as I tried to think about who she might be. Had I met her somewhere before? She looked so much like Kaylah, but surely that had to be my fucked-up brain hallucinating from banging my head on the ground.
