Chapter Two - Rage

"Tell me where he is," I shouted, my foot connecting with the man's ribs.

All I could see was red. The sympathy I had for the man below us had vanished when he spit in my face. This guy knew where Denver was at all times, and I needed him to spit it out. I couldn't find my sister until I found Denver.

He looked up at me from the concrete, his expensive clothes in shreds, and smiled a bloody smile. "I'll never tell."

Dante reached down, grabbed his shirt, and lifted him up to the brick wall behind him. "We know you know where he is and you have ten seconds to tell me."

Dante was in even more trouble for being there than me. It wasn't his mess, but he had my back. Dante was the only person I could trust. The man snarled and spit at his feet. "Denver is going to crucify you when he finds out what you're doing," he dragged his gaze to mine, "and finds out that you're helping this traitor."

Stepping forward, I curled my fist and slugged him in the jaw again, blood spewed from his wet mouth. "I spent two years in prison for his sorry ass, and when I get out he's got my sister? You think you wouldn't do the same thing? And how would he find out anyway? You're not going to survive this to tell."

The man's grin faded, and his dark eyes cast down to the puddle of blood beneath his feet. We didn't want to kill him, but my sister was worth every conflicting fight between the consequences and my soul.

"If I tell you where he is, will you spare me?"

Dante's gaze slid toward mine. Through his thick ropes of dreads, I could see he was asking me. "How do I know you won't tell?" I asked, cracking my neck to the side. "How do I know that you won't call him and tell him we're coming?"

Sweat trickled down the side of his face and mixed with the blood gathering around his nose. "I swear."

Dante snorted. My thoughts exactly. I dug his phone, keys, and wallet out of his jeans. It wasn't like he wouldn't have that money doubled in a night. "Tell us."

"He's playing poker," he whispered, shaking his head. Dante tightened his grip on his shirt. "Over in the back room of the new bar on Second St. He is going to kill me."

"Sorry to hear that," I said.

I patted his check, and brought his head to my knee. He immediately doubled over with a loud thud. "Let's tie him up. Someone will find him. We'll be long gone before he even wakes."

Dante and I tied the man with a zip tie we found in his shirt pocket. I didn't want to know what he would have done with it. Dante turned to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. There was a worried look in his eyes, and it had every right to be there.

Two years of prison and the second I stepped out, Dante was there. We'd met working for Denver. Dante was the only person that I knew who could do better. He was smart, and he'd once wanted to quit like me, but then I was framed and sent to prison. That kind of shot that idea to hell.

Defying Denver wasn't something Denver would be willing to let go. He was the biggest drug dealer in Dallas, and his reputation wasn't of the friendly nature.

"Are you okay, Rage? You're not acting like yourself."

I wasn't myself. Two years behind bars away from my baby sister had changed something inside of me. In those two years, her visits started to get fewer and fewer, and I found out that he'd gotten to her.

Denver pulled the wool over her eyes and hid her away from my once a week phone calls. There was no denying that I'd changed. Betrayal coursed through my blood and made half of the decisions for me. "I have to get her back, man."

Dante nodded. "I understand, but we need to be smart about this. Let's not go shoot up the place. Let's at least think about a plan."

Forget the plan, I wanted to shoot up the place. The image of Denver touching my sister was punishable by death. Two years of my life had been wasted because I didn't want to deal anymore. I'd gotten my sister through college, like I had planned, but this life wasn't that easy to get rid of.

"Rage."

"Okay," I sighed. "Let's just go and scope the scene."

Dante frowned.

"And kill somebody," I mumbled.

***

The bass from the bar in front of us thumped hard and rattled the blacked out windows. A bodyguard dressed in black guarded the door, his hands interlaced in front of him, but I knew under those sunglasses he watched everyone that walked by.

The bar wasn't my style, but I knew Denver liked to pick hole in the wall places to hide. Dante let out a long whistle beside me. "Looks like it's pretty guarded. What's the plan?"

The sketchy scene was enough to let me know I shouldn't go inside, but there was no other way for me. I had to find her. "We're going to walk in. They'll let you in. I have a fake ID."

Dante gaped at me. "You just got out of prison like a couple of hours ago. How in the hell do you already have a fake ID?"

"I have my ways."

Dante shook his head. "And you want to just walk in? You've seriously lost it."

"No, I'm desperate."

Dante pinched the bridge of his nose. "Damn you, Rage. This is messed up, and you know I have to go with you. It's code."

I took my keys from the ignition. "You don't have to come, bro. Although, I'd sure appreciate it."

Dante shot me a go to hell look before getting out. "I'll go in and find us a table in the back. Do you have a hat?"

"I don't do hats, Dante."

He tossed his hands in the air. "Just wait ten minutes before you go inside."

The car door slammed, and the silence slid over my skin like velvet. There hadn't been many silent moments in prison.

Ten minutes ticked by, and my body hummed with each passing second. The bodyguard kept his face straight, but I imagined him sizing me up behind those douche bag aviators he wore. "ID," the man said.

Lying came as second nature to me, and keeping a straight face was life. I pulled out my fake ID. Declan Samuels was not my name, but if I had to bet all of Denver's bodyguards knew my real name. Declan Samuels was a good Samaritan from Texas, an average college-aged guy who had no idea some ex-con used his name as a way to get what he needed.

The bodyguard looked over his dark glasses and gave me another onceover. My fingers inched to touch the back of my neck where my prison numbers were tattooed, even though I knew he couldn't see them.

The man mumbled something, shoved the ID into my hand, and opened the blacked out door. Music and smoke suffocated the doorway, filtering onto the street while I pushed my way through. The smell made my mouth water. I hadn't had a cigarette in two years.

The bar was bigger and cheap which was a neon sign for riffraff. A passing waitress gave me a smile over her shoulder. "Go have a seat anywhere, sugar. We'll get to you in a bit."

I searched the floor and found Dante sitting in a back booth with his back to me. I rapped my knuckles against the table. "Anything yet?"

Dante looked up and gestured with his eyes toward a guard who looked almost identical to the one outside. He stood in front of a heavy wooden door to the right of the dance floor.

I searched the cluster of people for my sister, but I already knew she'd never be out in the open like that. It would be way too easy. Something trailed over the back of my neck. I jerked around to see a woman, who I assumed was my waitress, staring down at me. "A prison tat?" she grinned.

Since when is an ex-con appealing? It wasn't that I'd killed someone to get in there, but she didn't know that. I'd went to prison for drug trafficking. I'd started working for Denver when I turned eighteen after our parents' death, and I had no money to support my sister or myself.

They released me a year early for good behavior; but when I got out Denver had already sunk his claws into my sister. I knew it was my payment for trying to leave him. Just like the cops showing up at the abandoned warehouse. Like I said, you don't just stop working for Denver.

I ignored the waitress. "You want one, Dante?"

He lifted a brow but nodded.

"Two Bud Lights.

She nodded and scribbled it down on her pad. "I'll be back, big boy."

Dante laughed and dropped his forehead to the table. "You're doing it again, man."

"And what am I doing?"

"You're making these pretty little girls sweat over you when you're not going to give them the time of day."

"I didn't do anything but order my drink."

Dante brushed a dread from his face. "I think it's the eyes. I should get contacts, right?"

A commotion from the center of the dance floor caught my attention, but when the crowd parted all I saw were two people humping each other on the floor.

It seemed every girl in the city was out, but my sister wasn't one of them.

The music from the live band drummed harshly against my skull; it wasn't helping my headache. She isn't here. She's probably at Denver's house.

The thought sent vomit up my throat. This had nothing to do with her, but I had a problem with messing things up, and she was being punished without even knowing it. I'd known he was a smooth talker, but I never thought anyone could get Hannah to leave me without a word. I thought she was smart enough to see through his bullshit.

Obviously, his words were more persuasive than I realized.

Now I was left with no way of finding my baby sister because he didn't want me to find her. He was good at keeping people secret. She had no clue that he didn't give two shits about her and was only doing this to hurt me.

That's why I'd been determined to find her and make her understand. I had to get her away from him before he hurt her or worse—killed her. The image of him hurting her—touching her—sent my anger to a breaking point that it'd never been. That explained the knife tucked into the side of my boot.

The waitress slid us our beers, and I greedily took a drink. Over the rim of my bottle, I saw a tall man shove a petite blonde to the floor.

Everything in me told me to get up and help her, but my ID was fake and I didn't need to draw any attention to myself.

I clutched my fingers tighter around my bottle but kept my eyes glued to the table.

Not even two minutes later our waitress was back with flushed cheeks. "You boys want another one?"

I shook my head. "No, thanks."

She bit her bottom lip and stepped in my view of the VIP room. I growled, feeling a chunk of my hair fall to my forehead.

She reached forward and swiped it away. It would have been okay if it was any other time. I hadn't had sex in two long years and every touch or look drove me crazy, but this wasn't about me, it was about my sister. "Then how about some fun?" She slid her number to me.

She bent over, giving me a clear view of her cleavage. "No, thank you," I looked at her name tag, "Amanda. I'm here for other reasons."

By her dropped jaw, I'd say I offended her. She eyed Dante who held his hands out in surrender. "Don't forget a tip," she spat.

I had a tip for her—it wasn't happening.

"Dude!" Dante yelled.

She finally moved right as the door swung shut. I didn't see who went inside. "Wait, where are you going? We don't have a plan yet."

"We're going in now. The door is clear."

Clutching the table, I stood up and stalked toward the door, not bothering to see if Dante followed me. The bodyguard who watched the door turned his attention to the too drunk blonde trying to get up from the floor, which gave me a chance to slip inside.

A mist of smoky air collided with me at the same time the sound of laughter echoed from down the hallway. That was exactly where I needed to go. It may have been a death wish, but I'd take back my sister.

"Rage," Dante said, grabbing my forearm. "You're not seriously just going to barge into the room, are you? It's a death wish."

His face showed a desperate plea. Dante knew better than anyone what Denver would do. "You don't have to come with me, but I have to go. I have to confront him and fight for my sister. No one else will."

Dante screwed his eyes shut. Guilt slammed into me like a truck. "Dante, you don't have to—,"

He locked his jaw. "I'm with you, brother. Let's do this."

I matched his gaze to make sure he was ready. I slowly nodded. Before anyone could spot us, we ran down the long hallway and pushed opened the heavy wooden door at the end. The room was loud with laughter but dropped silent when we stepped through the threshold. I recognized a few faces, but the main one was the man smiling back at me.

"Rage, it's nice to see you." He gave me a once over. "Prison has done wonders for you." The edge of his brow lifted at Dante behind me. "I'm surprised to see you here, Dante. Didn't you have a run tonight?"

Dante didn't say anything, and I didn't turn to see his face. I knew he was silent because he was betraying Denver.

Anger soared through me when his lips pulled into a grin. The stupid suit he wore was crisp and ironed. His polished blond hair and perfect smile fooled so many people, but it didn't fool me—I just wished I could say the same for my sister. "Where is she?"

Denver leaned back in his chair and waved off the men standing in the corner ready for us to attack. They didn't realize I had nothing to lose.

"And who might you be talking about?"

"Where is my sister?"

Denver chuckled and played his hand while laughing over his cigar. The potbellied man beside him tossed him a dirty look and slammed his cards down. "She's at my house sleeping—waiting for me to come take care of her."

I'm going to kill him. I took a step forward, but one of the big burly twins to the side stepped forward. "I wouldn't do that," he whispered.

I didn't look his way. "She hasn't done anything to you. This is about me."

Denver smiled and hurried the man sitting next to him along. "I beg to differ. She's done a lot with me."

There wasn't enough air in the room. The knife in the side of my boot felt like a thousand pounds. "I'll start helping again," I whispered helplessly. "I'll deal or move it. Anything."

Knowing that Denver Ford didn't have an ounce of compassion for life should have scared me. It made me seem crazier than normal for standing in a room with three armed men, but my sister was worth a bullet to the chest and the last breath in my lungs.

Denver put his cigar out on the table and motioned for the other guys to leave. To my surprise, no one said a word and the room cleared out. A dead feeling grew in my chest, it spread throughout my veins. Denver glanced at Dante and smiled. "Take him. I'll deal with him later."

There was no way he could fight off the two guys that grabbed his arms. Dante gave me a look that said he would be okay, but in reality there was no way he knew what would happen.

They directed Dante toward the door. He tilted his head up high before they pulled him across the threshold. It gave me all the confirmation I needed to go for it. I had to move. He cleared out the room and that meant he didn't want extra eyes around.

Before the guys around me could move, I scurried across the room, grabbed the knife wedged in my boot, and sliced it across Denver's face. His scream sent chills down my body. The next few seconds was a rapid blur. Something forced me down to the ground, and I hit it like an eighteen-wheeler to a brick wall. All the air rushed from my body in the quickest millisecond of my life, and I was left gasping for breath.

"Oh, Rage. You're gonna regret that," Denver spat.

But I couldn't move to look at him. I realized someone's knee pinned me down to the ground. Wetness clung to my face, and I could feel the puddle of blood where my face had hit the cement. Despite the stars dancing along my vision, I tried to break free, only to be forced down harder.

"Do you not understand? Turn him around."

The man above me grabbed my shoulders and violently jerked me around, using his boot against my throat for leverage. Denver's face was a bloody mess, and the once white handkerchief he had to his cheek was blood red.

"You're going to die now. You know that right?"

I smiled up at him. "I'm not scared of death. I'm scared for my sister."

Denver pressed harder onto his face and whispered; "Now you should really be scared for her. Kill him. Take him away from here. I don't care how. I have to call the medic."

The sound of his feet bounding up the stairs was the last I heard of him. "You heard the boss. Let's kill 'em so we can get rid of him," one of the men said.

Is Hannah okay? Will he kill her now or just toss her out by herself? Something hard hit my side, and vomit rose in my throat. I looked up at the florescent light. The shadow of the man above me swung a tire iron, and I felt it in my gut.

I had to fight for her. She has no one. Another blow hit hard, but this time to my leg. Before long I couldn't move or think. The only thing that I could focus on was Christmas. Hannah loved Christmas. Even though it was months away, I didn't want her to be alone for it.

I had to survive for her. If you do anything, just survive for her.

Everything went black a few seconds later.

***

The close sound of chirping crickets softly woke me. My first thoughts felt hazy, my surroundings were different, but I could tell I was outside. The sun was rising, but I was too weak to keep my eyes completely open. Water lapped against me, washing away the evidence of blood that I could feel stuck to my skin.

I'd been in pain before, but nothing compared to this torment. Everything throbbed and a low unsteady heartbeat flickered in my neck. How am I even alive? They'd beaten me until I thought I died.

The heaviness of my lids weighed on me, so I forced myself to keep them open a little longer to see the discouraging sight of trees and more trees. I had no idea where I was or if I could get help.

A sharp pain erupted in my side, and I growled loudly into the quiet woods around me. Someone has to be out there ... please.

I hadn't prayed in years. Not since I'd begged God to bring my parents back from the fiery depths of our burned house, but all I could think about was Hannah in his bed. How she'd never know what really happened to me. How I'd never see her smiling face again.

"Please," I rasped. "God I—please bring someone to help. Anyone. Please. I can't leave her alone."

I watched the bright blue sky, the rising sun cast pink over the hills, and I let the heaviness overpower me. I helplessly closed my eyes, and all my hope slipped into the dirty creek bed beneath me.