Page 126 of Riot

Not that I’d call it sleep, more like a deep haze that I’m shocked out of.

Cold fuckin’ water will do it every time. I shake my head, the wakeup call bringing everything back in full force.

I’m in a warehouse of some kind. It’s dark except for an overhead light that dangles down in true creepy warehouse fashion, I can’t make anything else out. There's a musty smell, like grease, or oil, or even gasoline.

I’m tied to a chair, my wrists bound behind my back as I wince and try to gain focus.

I hear laughing and snickering before someone kicks my shin, like I’m not already awake.Asshole.

Out of my good eye, I see two goons in front of me. I don’t know if they’re the guys who came to the back of the van, but it doesn’t really matter. They’re dead anyway. Even if I am tied up, I’ll find a way out of this somehow. That part I haven't quite figured out yet.

“Sleepin’ beauty’s finally awake,” one of them snickers.

I’m not gagged, so I’m tempted to spit on them, but then again, if they land me another blow, that’ll hurt like a bitch, so I keep quiet. Better not provoke the bear if I can help it. Preserving what little energy I have left will be the smartest thing to do. Still, adrenaline courses through my body. I’m amped. I’m ready to fight, and without these restraints, I’d find the will to end them both.

“’Bout fuckin’ time,” the other growls, clearly put out that they knocked me out cold.

“Next time you want your hostage to wake up,” I murmur, “Might be a good idea to lay off the blows to the head.”

Dickface one winces. They’re covering their faces with masks and I’ve no idea why. If I make it outta here alive, no mask is gonna stop me from hunting them down and ending them like the pieces of shit they are. They made me leave my family unprotected, and that’s unforgivable.

They both chuckle like I said something really funny. Then dickface one turns to dickface two. Let’s call them D1 and D2.

“Think we’ve fucked him up enough?”

D2 crosses his arms over his chest. “Not nearly.”

“She said to leave him alive.”

“Pity.”

“Who’s she?” I sputter.

Neither of them acknowledge me, other than D1 giving my chair a kick. “Shut the fuck up or it’ll be worth the punishment kickin’ your ass some more.”

“Easy to fuck someone up when they’re unconscious,” I laugh. “You know who I am. You know my club will come for me, and when they do, you’re all dead.”

“The NOLA Rebels can’t do shit—” D2 starts.

“You think it’s just my club?” I snort. “You’re forgettin’ about my ties with the Chicago Bratva.”Assuming that this is what my kidnapping is all about, it might make them shit their pants.Then again, it might make them put a bullet in my head, too.“And then there’s every Rebel club across the continental United States. And the other clubs we’re affiliated with in Cali, Arizona, Texas, Mississippi, Utah…”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up!” D1 bellows, but neither of them touch me. It’s like they want to hear about how they’re gonna die but choose to ignore it.

I snicker. “We have the best hackers in the country. They already know who you are. You think you can hide?” I shake my head. “You can’t hide anywhere. But I’m sure whoever’s behind this didn’t tell you that. You’re scapegoats. Trash. The bottom of the barrel. That’s why she got you to do the dirty work so she can stay hidden. When my club comes, you two will be the first on their hit list.”

They both stare at me and I know I’ve got them. Sure, they may rough me up a little more, but when men get angry or annoyed, they fuck up. And I’m waiting for them to do just that.

“Let me guess, your mama didn’t tuck you in as a little boy.” D1 pretends to cry like a baby.

“No, she was shot dead by my dad,” I say. “Then I shot him.” They both pause for a moment, caught off guard and that just gives me the kicker to keep going. “I learned from an early age exactly how to get out of any situation, even this one.”

D2 looks a little uneasy, even though I am fully tied to this chair with no way out — unless one of them is stupid enough to let me use the bathroom. I mean, the heavies aren’t usually the sharpest tools in the box. D1 on the other hand doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, the scowl on his face tells me he may just slit my throat right here and now.

D2 points in my face. “You think you can just keep yappin’ away and makin’ shit up and we’re just gonna stand here and take it?” He lands a blow to my stomach, making me double overas I wince. It knocks the breath right out of me. “You’re a second away from my gun bein’ aimed at your forehead.”

“Then you won’t get paid,” I sputter, fighting through the pain. “All that work for nothin’. Seems pretty useless to me.”

“He’s just tryin’ to get under our skin,” D1 points out. “Nobody’s lookin’ for him. Nobody even knows who we are.”

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