“There we go,” the red-haired man said. “Nice and docile. Let's get the tape off her and stand her up.” He pulled the rag out of my mouth, tossing it aside.
So that's why my jaw was aching so much, I thought sleepily as the other men untaped my limbs and dragged me out. That was nice of him, to take that out for me. I wish he hadn't told them to stand me up, though, because...
...Did he tell them to stand me up?...
...because I'm actually very tired right now, and I feel like I should just rest here before I go play with those children I hear. Just a little nap, that's all. Maybe if I tell him I'm too tired, he'll change his mind and have them put me back down.
I opened my mouth to speak, and nothing but slurred, drawn-out vowel sounds came out. My chin and chest felt surprisingly wet, and I realized I had drooled all over myself.
“Okay, let's get her over to the boat,” the red-haired man said.
I felt myself moving forward, and briefly congratulated myself on being able to walk until I remembered I was being carried. Families and their children floated by me, laughing and bickering and carrying flags and lit sparklers.
I wished my parents could be there with me so we could celebrate with the rest of these happy-looking people. I couldn't quite remember who the men on either side of me were, but they didn't seem like friends or family, and all at once, their hands on me started to feel very heavy.
A sharp pang of fear suddenly darted through my mind, the emotion flickering like lightning followed by the rumbling thoughts that conjured it.
Growler was dead. I'd watched him die, and these men had taken me.
Whatever had been pumped into my veins, I knew I needed to shake it off and try to break free or call for help. As a young, fresh-faced couple passed by, I tried to call out to them and instead let out a long, gurgling croak. More saliva dripped from my lips, spattering on the sidewalk in front of me.
“Hey, is she okay?” the woman asked, frowning at me.
No, I'm not okay, I thought. Nothing's okay. Growler's dead and Rafe might be dead and I think these men want to make me dead too. Please help me. Please see that there's something wrong and get me away from them before they murder me.
“Yeah, it's just our sister,” the red-haired man said. “No matter what the holiday is, she's always drunk by 10 AM so we gotta carry her everywhere. Family, am I right?”
“Heh, yeah, tell me about it,” the woman answered. “My aunt's the same way. Well, happy Fourth of July!”
“Happy Fourth! Enjoy the fireworks,” the red-haired man replied. The young couple walked away and I felt myself moving forward again.
The sun was starting to go down, and I could see its rays glittering on the surface of water like a handful of scattered gold coins. I realized I was at the harbor, and I tilted my head to one side, watching the docks pass by in a blur.
“Steady, girl,” the red-haired man whispered in my ear. “Almost there.”
The men turned and marched me down the last dock in the harbor. My head lolled forward and I saw that we were approaching a red yacht at the end of the dock. I could feel the gangway under my shoes and the world tilted backward slightly as we ascended to the boat.
I heard a familiar voice say, “This smells like a trap. We need to go. Now.” There was a thunder of footsteps heading toward us, and I saw Rafe's surprised face appear at the top of the gangway a few feet away from us, along with Sperm's and Bard's.
Rafe's alive! I thought giddily. We're all alive, thank God! I just hope we all get to stay that way.
But even in my drugged haze, I knew the chances of that were slim.
Chapter 38
Rafe
“Nice to see you again, Rafe,” Jester smirked. He'd dyed his hair red since the last time I'd seen him and his taste in suits had improved, but there was no mistaking that dead-eyed smile—like a sick hyena crunching on the bones of its kills. He had Angelo with him, and the bald flunky from the alley next to Maggia's was behind them.
He also had Jewel, and even though I didn't see any marks on her, it looked like they'd messed her up badly. She could barely stand or hold her head up, and her eyes were glassy.
Every nerve in my body suddenly felt like a wire that had been stripped down to the copper. I tasted hot metal at the back of my throat as a berserk fury possessed me. All I wanted in the world at that moment was to sink my fingertips into Jester's throat and rip out his windpipe.
“How was Potawatomi?” Jester continued casually. “Did you get lots of exercise? I know I sent you a personal trainer or two while you were up there, but I don't seem to recall getting a thank-you card from you.”
“What have you done to her?” I snarled.
“Just a temporary chemical paralysis,” Jester replied. “Now, the question you really should be asking is, now that I have her limp and helpless, what am I going to do to her? I must admit, Rafe, this is quite the little jaw-dropper and pants-popper you've got here. Nice firm tits, round pillowy ass...I might have to take a bite of it myself.”
I knew this was Jester's style, running off at the mouth and digging into people where it hurt to get them to lose control. I desperately wished it wasn't working on me, but it was. My veins felt like they were boiling with acid.
“Still,” Jester continued, “looking at her, I can't help but feel like you downgraded, man. I mean, curves aside, you really think this frumpy, boring-looking bitch is better than my niece? You must think that, 'cause I don't see no bruises on her like you put on my niece, so I figure you must like her more. What's she got that Abby didn't have? 'Cause Rafe, I swear to God, if you'd just stayed with Abby from the start an' treated her right, you could've spent the past seven years sniffing the free air and none of us would have to be here right now. And then you had to go and pull some Rambo shit on the highway and steal what belonged to me.”
“We're not here to rehash old grudges,” Bard said. “We're here to negotiate. We know what's on the memory stick, and we know just how damaging it would be for you if it got sent to the wrong people. You want the stick, we want the girl, and both you and Rafe want a chance to settle things once and for all. So it seems to me like we can all get what we want this evening without things having to get too dramatic.”
Jester paused for a moment, then threw his head back and cackled. “Wow! I have got to hand it to you, Big Bard. After all these years, you still make the best speeches. Inspiring, truly. Four thumbs, two stars up, fine holiday fun. But I think you're forgetting something.”
He hooked his thumb and forefinger into the side of Jewel's leggings, pulling out the memory stick. “I've got the stick already, you pedantic fucking know-it-all! You hold no cards. You have nothing! I could have Angelo and Richie here pump you full of lead right now.”
“Not true,” Bard said. He slowly reached into the front pocket of his denim vest and yanked out an identical memory stick. It was one of the ones Sperm had bought.
“Did you really think once we had the stick, we wouldn't copy it?” Bard asked. Sperm reached into his own vest pocket, producing another stick. I pulled another from my vest too.
“We've got five more Reapers with these sticks riding around the city right now, waiting to hear from us that the deal went down,” Bard continued. “If they don't get a coded text in the next five minutes, one of them will go to each of the five major crime families and hand the lists over. So stop playing tough and smarten up, before you and every other Thorn ends up as mulch in some godfather's rose garden.”
Angelo and Richie were starting to look uneasy. “Hey, Jester, uh, maybe we should hear them out,” Angelo said. “I mean, just 'cause you've got some personal beef with this Rafe guy, it don't mean the rest of the Thorns gotta go down with you. I'm pretty sure they'd back me up on that if they was here.”
“First of all, they're not here and I outrank you clowns, which means you do as I say,” Jester snapped. “Second, you have nothing to worry about. Bardie Boy is bluffing. That memory stick was code-protected against copying. There's no way they could have done what they said they did.”
“You seem to forget I was in Delta in Iraq,” Bard said.
“Oh, yes, God forbid any of us forget that little tidbit about you, G.I. Jerkoff,” Jester sneered. “I'm sure it drops plenty of panties at parties, but the rest of us aren't impressed.”
“Then you should know,” Bard continued smoothly, “that while I was there, I worked with the NSA and COINTELPRO. I've seen stronger anti-copy codes in camel droppings. Dismantling yours took all of thirty seconds.”
“Jester,” Richie said warningly, “I don't like this. I really, really think we need to back off a little, call the other Thorns, see if we can maybe tone this whole thing down just a bit...”
Jester eyed the three of us warily. Judging. Deciding.
“Hey, Jester, I get that you're in a bind, man,” Angelo pleaded, “but if they're not lying, then the clock is fucking ticking, okay? Please, I'm begging you, be reasonable. Err on the side of caution, here. Let's work this out.”
“No,” Jester spat, glaring at us. “No, I don't think reasonable is gonna be on the menu tonight. I think instead we'll be serving up gruesome revenge drizzled with blood, with a side of violation and fucking armageddon for dessert. I think Bard's more full of shit than an assless elephant, and those memory sticks they're carrying are even emptier than their heads.