Wrong Side of the Tracks by Ashley Zakrzewski
ChapterThirteen
Marcus brings me to a crummy old farmhouse surrounded by woodland and is tucked away on the outskirts of town. My legs are shaking as I get off the back of his motorcycle. I do well to walk up the weathered wooden steps on trembling legs, ignoring the leering stares and heckling from the Jackals. There are empty beer bottles everywhere I look, crumpled cigarette packets, and discarded takeout containers. I thought the Hawks were messy, but these guys are pure slobs.
“Whatcha got there, boss?” Mr. Mohawk drawls in a lazy tone. “Is that the same chic from last night?”
“The very same,” Marcus confirms. “She’s Havoc’s ex old lady.”
Mr. Mohawk gawks at me, then his eyes widen with realization. “Oh, shit. I know where I’ve seen you before. You’re the chic from the bar. The one Havoc banged in the manager’s office.”
“We didn’t bang,” I’m quick to clarify. “He smacked me around for talking back to him.”
The Jackals chortle, mostly finding my outburst funny. They flick their attention between Marcus and me as if they are waiting for him to slap me for speaking out of turn.
“Women should be seen and not heard,” Marcus remarks, jabbing his finger at me. “Now, get in there and grab a broom. I want this shithole spick and span before the sun comes up, or the next fucking you get will be my fist up your ass.” He waits until I scurry past and then forcibly smacks my butt enough to make it sting.
Holding my purse strap tightly, I pretend to look around the rickety porch to give the Hawks a rough estimate of how many Jackals they’re dealing with. Marcus wastes no time in telling his goons all about us bumping uglies, embellishing the truth to make several seconds stretch to half an hour. While his buddies are patting his back for being such a wild stallion, I hurry inside to look for Liv. Even if I was gonna spend the night cleaning, it would take more than one night to get this place spotless. The very air I breathe is ninety-nine percent stale piss and cigarette smoke. I wouldn’t let my dog sleep in here if I owned one. Fuck knows how the Jackals can stand it. Maybe they’re nose blind.
Covering my airways with the neckline of my hoodie, I breathe my warm scent as I scour the house, kicking aside all the trash. There’s a ratty couch in the sitting room, a decent flatscreen TV in one corner, and a small veneer table with a stack of playing cards on it. I’m not sure if the previous owner nailed planks of wood to cover the windows or if the Jackals did it. I go upstairs, taking each pitted step one at a time, not knowing what I might find up there. It’s just as I thought; it’s dingy, but less cluttered than downstairs. I expect to find bare mattresses on the floor, not mismatched single beds. They all appear to sleep in one room with their dirty laundry piled high on the landing. I can see the bathroom through an open doorway, and next to it there’s a locked door with a key protruding from the lock.
An ear-splitting whistle makes me almost jump out of my skin. “Woman, where’d you go?” Marcus calls out from downstairs.
Retracting my hand from the key, I abandon the search temporarily and go back downstairs to see what he wants.
“I was just looking around,” I say, keeping a casual tone. “And for the record, my name is Keira.”
“I’m not interested in learning your name. I’m only keeping you around because you put out. There’s a roll of trash bags in the kitchen,” Marcus mentions, pointing the way. “Don’t fucking let me catch you going upstairs unsupervised.”
“Not even to use the bathroom?” I answer back, much to Marcus’s annoyance.
Marcus eyes me distrustfully. “Can’t have you snooping around places you’ve got no business to snoop or hopping from dick to dick. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep that pussy contained. If I want you to blow me, you’ll get on your knees and do it. If I tell you to drop your panties and bend the fuck over, you’ll fucking do it. Do you hear me?”
“Loud and clear,” I grumble.
Marcus observes me for a long moment, probably wondering what I’m thinking and wishing he could read minds.
“You’re not scared of me, are you?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
I snap right back into acting, pretending to be into him. “Should I be?” I come closer to him and snake my arms around his waist.
Marcus doesn’t move a muscle; he just lets me rub against him like a bitch in heat. “Fuck me over and you’ll regret it,” he warns.
“Speaking of fucking over,” I begin, getting ready to drop the Booker bomb. “Won’t Booker be mad about you keeping me around?”
Marcus snorts. “That bastard is using me to do his dirty work. He tracked me down, offered me a job, and I just about snatched his hand off at the offer. He wanted me to drive some people off their land; either they sold to the developers, or we’d run them out of town. I was promised it would be fifty-fifty, but so far, Booker has fallen short of his end of the bargain. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Oh, why’s that?” I ask, stepping back to film his revelation.
“Because the dude is a serial rapist who goes around roofying women to get his dick wet. That’s what he does. One minute he’s talking to a woman at a bar, and the next he’s slipping a little something extra into their drink when they’re not looking. The next thing they know, they wake up naked in some dingy motel with no memory of what happened the night before. I’m a product of Booker’s dick-happy antics, and so is Havoc. And there’s plenty more where we came from. His out of court settlement bill is enough to make a man’s dick stay limp indefinitely. Eventually, they all creep out of the woodwork, and his lawyers pay them off and make them sign a non-disclosure order. The only woman to never ask for a cent is Havoc’s mom. According to Booker, they have history. He’s head over heels for the bitch, and I can’t say I blame him. She’s a knockout.”
Marcus isn’t shy with the details. It seems he doesn’t care what happens to Booker as long as Marcus gets his money.
“Liv hates Booker,” I mention.
Marcus tilts his head to one side. “Yeah, so I believe.” He silently analyzes me for a moment, then his eyes harden. “The boys paid her a visit tonight. My orders.” He studies my reaction, which I don’t give because I know what he’s doing, and I’m not falling for it. “They took turns on her, fucking her up real good.”
I swallow my revulsion, hoping it doesn’t show. “Then what?”
Marcus shrugs. “They brought her here.”
“What are you going to do to her?” I remain as calm as I possibly can.
“She's leverage in case Booker tries to stitch me up,” Marcus replies, jerking his head to the stairs. “Why don’t we go upstairs and say hi?”
“THIS IS THE POLICE. COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP. WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED.” Sheriff Dan’s voice echoes from a speakerphone.
Marcus blanches with panic, then joins his goons as they rush to peer through the barricaded windows. I don’t hang around to be used as a body shield. I run upstairs, unlock the door, and find a petrified Liv gagged and bound to a chair. She panics at first. Then as her eyes settle on me, I see them crease with relief. She sobs loudly as I take the knife from my bag and use it to cut her loose. I tug the knot to remove the gag, and Liv spits it out, reaching out to hug me.
“Keira, thank God,” Liv wails. “They said Jason and Dan were dead.”
I shake my head. “No, they lied. They’re both fine. They’re coming to save us.”
Liv gasps a ragged sob. “They hurt me. They hurt me like he did. Did they hurt you too?”
I hug her tight, and my heart sinks with sympathy. “No, I let Marcus touch me so he would bring me to you.” I lean back and hold her puffy, tear-streaked face. “Don’t worry, Liv. We’ll make them pay. Booker too. But first, we’ve gotta get out of here.”
All that follows is the rapid sound of gunfire. There’s a warzone down there, and I’m not sure whose side is winning. Liv and I huddle together, both watching the door, afraid to see the wrong guy walk through it. It feels like a lifetime, but when the noise eventually settles and we hear heavy footsteps coming upstairs, I adjust my grip on the knife. I’m ready to kill to protect us. It’s either them or us. And I’m not afraid to follow through with it.