Savage Fire (Savage Angels MC #2) (16 page)

There’s enough underbrush on the ground that no one could sneak up on me. I used a reasonably flat piece of wood to smooth out somewhere to lie down and I have placed leaves there so I’m not too uncomfortable. My biggest concern is dehydration. If I remember correctly, that’s what gets you first, so I’m trying to conserve my energy. I even sharpened a stick on a boulder and have a pretty mean‐looking stake. I’m not going down without a fight. Not this time.

When Dane left all those years ago, our father got worse for a time but only with our mother. Not with me, that didn’t start until I got my first period. That was the first time he hit me—I was only 13. I remember my mother putting herself between us and shaking her head violently from side to side. I didn’t understand but later I would.

He tried to touch me a few times but my mother went after him in a way I had never seen her do before.

She never stood up to him, so it came as a complete surprise. It broke something in him for a time. He stopped drinking, stopped being a bully and we were like a normal family. I even had friends, which was something I had never had before. My mother never let him be alone with me, ever. Even when he wasn’t drinking, she was always vigilant.

I was twenty when she was killed. I was away at college. I went home for the funeral and I remember that he reeked of alcohol, standing beside him as he held my hand. My mother was proud of me when I went off to school. I had to work two jobs to be able to afford to go but she told me never to come back, not even for holidays. She would occasionally come up and visit but it was always alone. I know my father thought he loved her but it wasn’t really love. He wanted to possess her, to own her and to control everything she did. I think she thought she didn’t have a way out, so she stayed. I think they were happy before she died; I think Ma had resigned herself to a life with him and made the best of it.

I got my first phone call from the local police station about twelve months after she passed. Dad had been picked up trying to put his car keys into the ignition of his car but was so drunk he couldn’t find the right key. They had him in a drunk tank, but technically he hadn’t done anything wrong. If only they had let him drive and then picked him up. So, I went home for a week, threw out all his bottles, paid his bills and almost wiped out my bank accounts doing it.

The next time was about six months later and then the calls became more and more frequent until he was diagnosed with cancer. In the end, I’d missed so much school I deferred for twelve months but I never went back. I got a job in a local call center and tried to make enough money to pay for the running of the house. I even worked nights for a while but I couldn’t continue that for long; the lack of sleep was not good for me.

He’d be good for a while then he’d start drinking again. We were lucky that he was a functioning alcoholic, he had a good health plan with his work and they paid a lot of the medical bills but not all. I still have a huge debt where that’s concerned. He only tried to hit me a couple of times, but I made it clear that I would walk. I put locks on my bedroom door so that he couldn’t come into my room when I was asleep. The nights were the worst. I would sleep with a knife under my pillow and push my chest of drawers in front of the door. I was lucky I had my own bathroom; my ma insisted I have one. I think even all those years ago she knew what he was capable of and didn’t want to put me in any kind of danger. She tried her best.

If I have children, there is no way I could do what she did. She should have left and I often wonder why she didn’t.

My bedroom became my safe haven. He was fine during the days, apologetic even. I always wondered what happened to him to make him so angry, so miserable, and so hateful.

It was like I had become the parent and he the child. He was so angry at the end. He didn’t want to die; he told me that with tears running down his face. He picked at and belittled everything I did, even when I was trying to help. I had a nurse come to the house once a day to wash him and see to him that way, but in the end he didn’t even want to shower. It wore him out. Once, I accidently gave him too much morphine; he was in so much pain, and he began to hallucinate, so I called the ambulance. It is my fondest memory of him, he was happy. He told me my mother was there with us; he was smiling at her and talking to her. When the ambulance arrived, they took him to the palliative care unit in our local hospital. He lasted three more days. He was nice to me, he told me he loved me and this is how I am going to try to remember him. I want to forget the hateful bastard that dominated so much of my life.

The light is beginning to fade. I hope someone is looking for me. I throw another log on the fire and stare into it. I never thought I’d be lost in the woods, naked. Lord, please send someone to help me.

Salvatore

I
sit in an interrogation room. It is not the first one I have been in and probably won’t be the last. It does not intimidate me. I drum my fingers on the desktop and stare at the mirror. The door to the room opens and a Deputy rolls in a TV and VCR, plugs them in and leaves.

Sheriff Morales enters the room. He places a tape in the VCR, turns the TV on, hits play and then sits opposite me. I stare at the TV, boredom plastered across my features. Then I see Emily on the screen—I know it’s her from the dress—a man approaches her and I see her move towards him. She seems to fall into him, but I can’t be sure. Then they move out of the shot. I glare at the Sheriff, stand up and rewind the tape then watch it again, this time paying more attention to the man.

“It looks like Johnnie Vanetti. He’s one of Guido’s men. I can’t be sure but it looks like him,” I say.

“Can you tell me how you got blood in your car?” asks the Sheriff.

I sigh and give the Sheriff my full attention. “When I met Emily, she’d had a car accident. She managed to hit her head on the steering wheel and she had a cut above her eye. Your local doctor even attended to her, you could ask him. She got blood on my seats from her head wound; she offered to have my seats cleaned. I can assure you I had nothing to do with her disappearance. But you know this already, don’t you, Sheriff?”

“Why is Guido Lamberti here?”

“This I do not know. I was on my way to see him when you picked me up. The Savage Angels should have him by now, perhaps when they bring him to Tourmaline you can ask him.” I understand how hard it is on this man. From the little I knew of him he pursued Guido vigorously but we had the money and the resources that he did not and it didn’t help that his partner was on the take. He was never going to win.

He looks at me, stands and leaves the room. I rub my hands over my face and stand. I begin to pace, trying to understand what the fuck is going on.

I knock on the glass. “I need my phone or I need to use a phone.” I stare at my own reflection and say, “Now.” I continue to stare at myself then I go and sit back down. Moments later a Deputy comes into the room with my phone. “Thank you.” He gives me a smile and then leaves.

I dial Don Abruzzi at home. It is answered on the fifth ring by a female. “Hello!” She sounds overly bright and bubbly.

“Hello, this is Salvatore Agostino, is Don Abruzzi available?”

“Sal! It’s Lexi! How the hell are you?” Lexi Mancini, one of the Don’s granddaughters.

“I am well, Lexi, and you?”

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. How long’s it been, one...no...two years?” she asks.

“I believe it’s been two years. Lexi, I need to speak to your grandfather, is he there?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“No, Sal, he’s gone out to buy cannoli as no one would make it for him. Do you want me to get him to call you when he comes back?”

“Yes, please. Now, I hate to rush off but I must get back to business, take care, yes?”

“Yes, Sal, take care!” she says as she hangs up. Lexi Mancini is a party girl. I am sure she will one day put her grandfather into an early grave. I just hope she remembers I have called.

The door to the interrogation room opens and a Deputy stands in the doorway. “You can go now Mr.

Agostino, but please don’t leave town.”

I smile at him and say, “Of course, Deputy. I’ll be at The Country Inn if you are looking for me.” I walk out of the room and out of the station. I don’t stop to see if anyone is following me. I walk quickly towards the motel.

“Sal!” I stop and turn to face Reynolds as he jogs to catch up with me. When he comes close enough, I raise my eyebrows at him. “I know it couldn’t have been pleasant to have been in that fucking room but come on, man, you know he had to fucking question you.”

“Really? He could have showed me the fucking footage of Emily being taken by Johnnie Vanetti and we could all be out looking for her. Tell me, Dane, did he tell you Johnnie did a stretch for rape? Did he tell you about the countless other charges that have been brought against him but the witnesses disappear?” I can tell by the look on his face that the Sheriff has not, so I continue, “No? Yes, that is the type of man who has your sister and if she is still alive, she will wish she wasn’t.” I turn my back on him and head towards the motel again. Rage clouds my thoughts. It makes no sense for them to have taken her and not to have phoned. Too much risk if they just wanted a fuck. I arrive at my car and climb in; the passenger door opens and Reynolds climbs in too.

“The Sheriff didn’t tell me fucking jack about Vanetti. Guido is on his way to the Compound. We will only have a brief window before the Sheriff arrives. What’s your plan?” he says.

“My plan is to meet Guido before he gets to your Compound and confront him before the Sheriff arrives.” I grind out.

“That’s what I thought, so, I’m coming with you.”

I look at him and nod. I start the car and reverse it, then I put it in gear and we are on the road heading towards Guido.

“Let me do the talking. Guido is someone that I have had dealings with in the past. He is not to be fucked with and you do not want to put all your cards out on the table. Understand?” I glance at him and he nods. “Good.”

Guido

A
car and half a dozen motorbikes pull up in the car park of the motel. I stare out the window through the sheer curtains looking at them all. It’s an impressive site. They are all in their colors, some dismount while others stay astride their bikes waiting for orders. I watch them as they go into the manager’s office, presumably to find out where we are. As they leave it, one of them signals to two of the others and then he points to my door. Four of them head my way and then one of them pounds on the door. I smile—time for negotiations.

As I swing open the door, they step back. “Good Evening...” I pause and look at them. “Gentlemen.” Then I chuckle. “What can I do for you?” My contempt is obvious, these bikers have no fucking idea who they are dealing with.

“Mr. Lamberti, your presence is required at our clubhouse in Tourmaline, if you’ll come with us?” says one of them and his level of respect is evident. It takes me by surprise.

“Of course, but you are?” He is easily six foot six, light green eyes and if I had to judge his age, I would say thirty. His hair is long and he has part of it pulled back off his face.

“I am Jonas Quinn, VP of the Savage Angels. We would appreciate it if you and your associate would get into the car.” He makes it so I cannot decline. Although he is respectful, his tone is of one who is used to being in charge.

“You are only the VP?” I step outside and look around. “Surely for someone of my stature I deserve the man in charge?” I glance to my right and see that Vinnie has stepped out. He moves to step towards me and raises his eyebrows. I smile at him and nod, he knows by my demeanor not to panic.

“No disrespect is meant. Our President is waiting for you in Tourmaline. Please get into the car.” This time it is more forceful; I shrug and slowly make my way to the car.

Vinnie climbs in one side and I the other. They have not patted us down for guns, which I find interesting. There is no way in my world that we would not have done that. Amateurs. No wonder I haven’t had dealings with them before now.

This Jonas Quinn hands over his motorcycle keys to one of his men and I hear him say, “You scratch my bitch even a little bit and you’ll be paying for a new coat of paint.” Then he smiles and pats the man on the shoulder.

When he enters the car he says, “You may be wondering why we didn’t take your weapons. It’s a sign of respect but, Mr. Lamberti, if you or your associate misbehaves, we will fuck you up.” Then he smiles at me and buckles up his seatbelt. This one has balls.

“We will behave. Now, take us to your leader.” My laughter fills the air and like the good soldier Vinnie is, he joins in.

Dane

T
he drive to Pearl County is done in silence. I know I told Salvatore I would let him handle Guido Lamberti, but if he has my sister that will be a different matter. At the moment, it is better to work with him than against him.

By the time we reach the convoy coming from Pearl, night is starting to fall. Whoever has Emily has now had her for hours. My only hope is that they keep her safe, that they think she is valuable to me or to Salvatore.

The car has barely come to a stop when I am out and pull open the door to grab Guido Lamberti. I have him by the shirt and pushed up against the car when I realize his soldier has a gun pointed at me.

“You will take your hands off Mr. Lamberti or I will shoot you,” says the man inside the car.

“You take that fucking gun off me and I might let you fucking live, how does that sound?” I growl at him. He cocks the gun and Jonas sticks his own Glock in the guy’s face.

“Vinnie, is it? This is the man in charge, our President. Now, if you don’t put your gun away I am going to put a very big fucking hole in your head.”

Now that Jonas has him under control, I look at the man I have pushed up against the car, but he isn’t looking at me. I feel a hand on my shoulder and I hear, “This is not the way, Dane, you will get nothing out of him this way. We must show Mr. Lamberti the correct amount of respect. This is how it is done.”