Page 63 of Ripper
“Yeah, we better. I ain’t gonna be able to live with myself if something happened to her,” I confessed.
“The girl’s got fire. She’s gonna be just fine until we get to her. Now, eat something before we head back out. You can’t save your lady if you’re gonna pass out on your fucking bike,” he said, shoving a pizza box at me.
I reluctantly took a slice, barely able to get it down, but I washed it away with some beer right before my cell phone started to buzz on the coffee table.
“Hello? Tank?”
“Yeah. We found some of those fuckers. They’re staying at The Seacoast. We’ll move in when the sun goes down. There’s too many fucking people here right now.”
“No. We’ll move in now. Clock’s ticking, Tank. We don’t know how much fucking time Ronnie has left,” I spat.
“Fine. You and Claymore get your asses down here. We’ll figure something out.”
“We’ll be there.”
My heart was beating real fucking loud when Claymore and I rushed out to start up our bikes. My blood was fucking boiling, the adrenaline was pumping, and I was ready for a goddamn fight.I’m coming, Ronnie.
***
We pulled up outside The Seacoast with its grimy seafoam-colored walls, the broken gate out front that no one ever bothered to fix, and an old man behind the glass at the check-in desk reading a magazine. The area was practically crawling with druggies and deals gone wrong, but it was exactly the kind place that would attract some Freeway Fucks. We parked our bikes across the street, approaching Tank and Wrench, who were hiding behind the tall, concrete wall on the other side of the gate. We moved in slowly, keeping our heads down as the sun beat down on us, feeling like it was burning holes in our leather jackets. With the single nod of Tank’s head, he and I rushed in behind two bikers entering their hotel room, shutting the door behind us.
We pulled our guns on ’em before they could even reach for theirs, and the looks on their faces oozed fear. I glanced over at Tank, who peered out the window to get a good look at Wrench and Claymore keeping watch in case these fuckers were gonna have their buddies show up.
“The fuck do you want, eh?” asked one of them.
He was short, standing there with his legs spread wide, looking between Tank at me with his thick beard and beer belly. His eyes were wide like a deer in headlights, much like the burly one who looked like he was gonna fucking shit himself.
“You know what I want. You know why I’m here, so why don’t you just save us all the trouble and tell us where Ray’s holding my lady,” I said.
“I ain’t know shit. You think we prospects get that kind of fucking information?”
I inched closer to him, cocking my gun back to let him know I meant business, and I got up in his face.
“Yes, I do. You have ten seconds to tell me where they’re keeping her, or I’m gonna blow your fucking head off. I don’t bluff, and I sure as hell didn’t get the name Ripper for nothing. Ten… Nine…”
The countdown continued, and I watched his expression go blank. He was sweating now, staring down the barrel of my gun, and at the very last second, he told me what I needed to know.
“Providence Street. There’s a large red brick townhouse that’s been abandoned for years. Ray’s got her there,” he said.
“This better check out because if it doesn’t, you’re dead,” I threatened.
Tank opened the door, calling Claymore inside. The other biker took his chance to try to push past us, but I knocked him on his ass before he could even get the fucking chance.
“Call Arch, tell him to meet us on Providence.You’ll stay here with Wrench until we can verify this fucker’s information,” said Tank.
“Yeah, no problem. Go get your lady, Ripper.”
I nodded at Claymore, rushing out the door with Tank by side. We were ready to move, starting up our bike engines and taking off to that little abandoned apartment building an hour outside of Mascid. I gripped the handles of my bike so tightly on the way there that my knuckles turned white. I was itching to get in there and start blowing the fucking place up. I needed to get Ronnie back. I couldn’t waste another goddamn minute.
***
I fiddled with the lock on the dirty glass front door of the old building with Tank barreling in behind me. We wasted no time blowing through every single Freeway King we saw coming our way. Bullets flew high in the air, the sound alone was deafening, but I didn’t care. A few moments in, I turned around to see Archer standing there with his gun at the ready, nodding at me.
I took the lead, moving through the surprisingly large building, hearing voices coming from the kitchen. Before I could get to them, I felt something hard slam into the back of my head. I kept my gun steady this time, turning around and pulling the trigger before that fucker could get the upper hand on me. I approached the small, vintage-style kitchen, keeping an eye on every angle to make sure there weren’t gonna be any more fucking surprises.
I heard the back door swing open, and I rushed in, hearing the sound of heeled boots running along the concrete outside. I turned the corner of the building to see a sliver of blonde hair disappear behind the brick, and by the time I ran after her, she disappeared.You fucking bitch.I ran back inside, keeping my gun safely at my chest as I searched every room looking for Ronnie.
Everyone cleared out now, leaving the bodies behind, and something told me they sure as hell weren’t gonna come back for ’em. Every goddamn room I checked was empty, every bathroom vacant, every space absolutely silent. I returned to the kitchen one last time to see that the only place I’d missed was the small door which I thought must’ve led to a pantry, but when I opened it, I saw the stairs that led down to the basement.
