Page 82 of The Lies We Tell
“Think,” Bates violently whispers.
Spark tries to peer through the gap in the door but obviously doesn’t like what he sees. “We got to go in without intel,” Spark says. “Just be ready.”
Another scream is all it takes for Spark to go. Men flood into the warehouse, weapons drawn and firing. I take cover behind an old metal tool chest, and I gasp at the sight. A naked woman, who looks a lot like Iris from the back, is suspended, her hands tied, over a hook. She’s no longer wearing her splint on her wrist. She must be in agony.
Joseph Hosea holds a gun to her head. “Stop,” he yells.
“Iris.” The agonized word slips from Spark’s lips.
The man spins her, revealing the extent of her injuries. She’s bruised. Bloodstained. Barely conscious.
ItisIris. But she makes me think of Briar.
The two meld in my mind.
We’re here to save Iris and Briar and every other woman the Brotherhood has touched.
Confusion fills me. I’ve never been uncertain. Wires. Women. Weapons.
Suddenly, I want to kill every fucker in this room.
Guns are pointed everywhere.
“You’re outnumbered,” Spark says. I’m not sure how he’s staying so calm when a world of rage is bubbling up inside me.
“I’m going to need you to leave,” Hosea says. “You think your club is so powerful. Think you could kill some of our ranks and not receive any retribution?”
I get up from my place of cover and walk to stand alongside Spark, weapon raised. Clutch does the same. Some of us may die, but this fucker with three guns aimed at his head is going nowhere, no matter what he does next.
Iris stirs; through the haze, she sees Spark. Tears fill her eyes. I think of all the times Briar has cried for what she went through. I think of what Weicker says. It’s not about what you know, but what you can prove. If all these men are dead and buried tonight, we can’t prove shit.
The police need to see this and collect evidence. Iris needs to be able to speak and not be afraid.
I press my finger against the trigger, ready to take the shot, when a bullet sounds and Hosea hits the floor. I have a second to realize it came from Spark’s weapon before all hell breaks loose.
I dive behind a pillar near Iris and provide cover, firing at those who would dare to shoot at Spark, who is trying to get Iris down from the hook. He’s struggling, so I run to help lift her hands over the hook and gently lower them, so Spark can carry her to safety.
They hide in the corner of the room. I stand with my back to them, covering them.
It takes a minute for the club to kill anyone left.
In the smoke and silence, I hear Spark muttering softs words to Iris, dressing her in his T-shirt so she’s no longer naked.
“I know it would be easier to be seen by Switch,” Iris says, her words interrupted by sobs, “but I think I need an x-ray. I don’t ... I don’t think I can pretend this didn’t happen. I can’t let Switch treat me and not report this to the police. There were four more women. They talked about selling perfect wives. Did you see them?”
Four more women. Four. Who are about to be sold to men like the one who wanted Briar.
I feel sick inside.
“I’m sorry,” Spark says. “We didn’t. And I understand. Give us a chance to figure out what we need to do to make that happen.”
“I also ... I don’t think ... shit.”
Spark tugs her closer. “Whatever it is, tell me. We get through all this together.”
“I was unconscious for chunks of time. I don’t know if he raped me. He did other things ... I ... oh, God.”
“Iris.” Spark’s voice is filled with anguish. “I’m so sorry. We’ll get you to a hospital. Fuck everything else.”
