Page 118 of Menace

“No, I don’t.” I looked at him, right at him, and asked a question of my own.

“Do you have a sister?”

I was surprised when he nodded and answered me.

“I have two sisters. Both good girls who love their family.”

I couldn’t nod but it didn’t matter, not with what I was about to tell him.

“It sounds like you love and protect them. I wasn’t so lucky. My brother started raping me when I was ten. When my mother tried to stop the rapes my father beat her to death. My brother helped him. I escaped when I was seventeen hoping to never see them ever again. But here I am. Once again being hurt because of them.” I finished on an angry hiss.

The silence was long as he slowly stalked around the table. He circled it three times before he spoke.

“No brother should lay his hands on his sisters. If you tell me what I want to know I will put him on this table and let you do what you want to him.”

I rolled my head from side to side. As attractive as the offer sounded I didn’t want it.

“No. I don’t want that. I just want my baby and go back to the house and find out if Bren is okay. Please, please let me go. I’ve done nothing to you or your people. Please don’t do this.”

He slowly shook his head his eyes looking like black marbles were focused on me.

“Where are they holding my son?”

What? What the hell was he talking about? His son? He’s doing this to me because of his son?

“What? Who took your son? And why would I know where he was?” I frowned at him.

Sharp pain lanced down my side and I screamed. I kept screaming as he slowly and meticulously kept making short slices along my hip.

“Where are they holding my son?”

He asked again, holding the knife up, blood dripping from the shiny blade to the floor.

I scream-sobbed my answer.

“I don’t know who your son is. I don’t know who has him. I don’t know where he is. Please, I don’t know him, I don’t know where he is!”

He slowly walked around the table and stopped on the side he hadn’t cut into yet.

“It stops as soon as you tell me where he is. That should be easy enough for you to do. Just tell me what I want to know.”

He kept slicing and I kept screaming and sobbing. Pleading with him to stop. He didn’t, it was as if he went into a place where he didn’t hear my screams, his face and eyes were blank.

Nothing there.

I screamed and pleaded as he sliced into my abdomen, slicing, slicing, always slicing.

Somewhere during what he was doing to me I must have passed out from the pain. I woke with a gasp as something sharp smelling was shoved beneath my nose. I woke to pain all over my sides and belly, it burned and throbbed. And my head ached and thumped in concert with my body and my heart.

His voice came as if through a long tunnel, cold and insistent.

“Harper, you’re not listening to me. I want to know where my son is. He went to visit his grandmother and hasn’t returned. I’ve been told he was captured and taken to the biker compound. I want him back.”

It raced through my mind. I was suffering because of the club. The bloody club.

At that moment in time I hated them. Hated every single biker I had ever known.

“I’ve never…been…to…to…the clubhouse. I don’t…even know…where it is.” I sobbed. “I work at…the tattoo shop. That’s all. I don’t know…who your son…is. Maybe Carmella knows…where he is…she’s…with the…bikers and…she’s here, with my…brother. I don’t…know…anything.”

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