Fracture

27. Dylan

CHAPTER 27

DYLAN

“I have to head to the club for a meeting.”

Levi’s head pops up from behind the bike he’s working on. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, just some administration thing.” I hate lying to him. “I’ll see you at home later.”

“No problem.” He smiles at me warmly, before dipping his head to go back to his work. “See you there.”

I shrug on my jacket and pull on my helmet, before climbing onto my bike. I check the location for the millionth time. The little red dot shows my target hasn’t moved. He’s still right where he was two hours ago, when Flea sent me the pin.

I gun the engine, and the bike roars as I head out of the parking lot and out onto the open road.

The past week has been hell. And it wasn’t just dodging reporters, avoiding all the drama Gloria had rained down on us with her lies.

No, it was much more than that.

I can’t think about it too much. I didn’t know what I was expecting when Flea sent me the access to Oswald’s phone, with a warning that there was stuff on there that would be extremely hard to watch. I thought I was prepared. I’d seen terrible things before.

Nothing could have prepared me for a video of Stella, my Stella, my beautiful girl, being raped and defiled by three filthy fucks in a dingy motel room. My stomach curdles at the memory. Her dead eyes, her screams, all silent on the video, but loud enough to rattle my soul to its very core. I heard everything, felt everything, smelled everything, as though I was in the room with her.

And when I saw her mouth the word that broke me, when I saw tears slip down her cheeks and her lips move as she pleaded, “ Papi, papi, please ”, I knew what had to happen. This was a matter for me to settle. She’d lain on that floor, pleading for me to come and rescue her while she was drugged and assaulted…

I’d said nothing to Stella or Levi. I’d just asked Flea to find out where the video had come from, who’d filmed it. A feat that should have been impossible.

But then this morning, a location was shared to my phone, for an apartment an hour away, in Bakersfield. The shitty side of town. The loser who’d filmed himself and his buddies assaulting Stella lived there alone. Flea was still working on identifying the other two.

One name is enough for me right now. The late afternoon sun beats down as I coast down the interstate, and after a half hour, I take the Bakersfield exit. A text from Flea pops up on my phone.

The guy owns a gun, just thought you should know .

I expected nothing less. Which is why I stowed the gun Eric procured for us under my seat. Risky? Sure. A cop pulls me over and searches me, I’m done. And a brown man like me, I know he’d sure as fuck search me immediately. But I send a prayer up to my parents, to have those angels looking after me, so I can make this right.

Revenge might be a sin, but since I’m damned anyway, who gives a fuck? Maybe God can give me a pass on all of this. An eye for an eye, right?

I pull up outside a run-down apartment block. Craig Ellis lives in the apartment at the end, facing the dumpsters. Fitting.

The apartments are quiet, their occupants all obviously at work. A beat up Camry is parked outside Ellis’s door, a Confederate flag sticker on the bumper. I park my bike down the side, out of sight, and tuck the gun into my waistband, under my jacket.

Something clicks beside me as I walk towards Ellis’s door, and I know I’ve activated someone’s ring camera. I keep my head down, pulling out my phone to text Flea.

Apartment 221 has a camera. Deal with it.

That’ll cost you.

Just get it done.

Flea sends me a thumbs up, and I move to Ellis’s door. A tv can be heard inside, and I test the door handle. This idiot has his door unlocked. It’s almost too easy.

I let myself into the apartment, and withdraw the gun. The lounge room is empty, and the sound of water running drifts down the hallway. While Craig Ellis washes his hands or his ass, whichever, I settle myself down in the arm chair, the gun resting on my knee, and wait for this fucker to emerge.

After a couple of minutes, he walks out of the bathroom, running a hand through messy dark hair, shirtless in a pair of basketball shorts. He doesn’t spot me at first, moving towards the kitchen and opening the fridge to retrieve a beer. He turns towards me just as he opens the bottle, and it drops to his feet as he yelps.

“Who the fuck are you?”

I raise the gun and gesture to the couch with it.

“Shut up and sit down.”

“Get the fuck out of my place!”

I cock the gun, and he goes pale. “I said, sit down, Craig.”

He lunges for the pantry, presumably where his gun is kept, but slips in the spilled beer on the floor, tumbling down hard. I’m over him before he can flip over, and his eyes widen as he stares down the barrel of my gun.

“Try that again, and I’ll put a bullet in your fucking eye.”

He raises his hands, shaking visibly. “What the fuck do you want? I don’t have any money.”

“I don’t need your money. Now get your ass up and sit on the fucking couch.”

I keep the gun trained on him as he staggers to his feet, and moves over to the couch. He stinks of cheap beer, and he’s visibly sweating. Once he’s down, I take my place in the arm chair.

“What do you want, man?” His voice cracks as he eyes the weapon in my hand. “I don’t even know you.”

“Six years ago, you filmed yourself and your buddies raping a woman you picked up in a club.”

Ellis blinks slowly, his brow furrowing. “I what?”

“You heard me. Pretty blonde, you picked her up in a nightclub and drugged her.” I pull out my phone and bring up the video, holding it up so Ellis can see the grainy clip play.

He squints, then realization lights up his eyes. “Oh my god, that chick? Seriously?” His confused gaze moves back to me. “So, what? You her boyfriend or something?”

“Where are your buddies?”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “I haven’t spoken to them in forever, Joey moved to Texas and Kyle, I mean, he’s in prison as far as I know.” He throws up his hands. “You seriously tracked me down over this? That’s ancient history, man!”

“Do you know who she is?”

Ellis’s breath catches in his throat, and he shakes his head. “Listen, whatever is going on in that family, I had no part of it.”

I frown at him, leaning on my knees. “What do you mean?”

“Her grandfather, man.” He says it like I’m an idiot and should know what he’s talking about. “Some hotshot senator, Oswald somebody, I don’t fuckin’ know. He told me she’d be at the club and paid me to get footage of her doing freaky shit. I know it was wrong, OK? I get it. But I was broke and he offered me 20k.”

My blood runs hot with rage. I curl my fist around the gun, gritting my teeth. “How the fuck do you even know him?”

“Joey, he was friends with Oswald’s driver. He gave him a job when Joey got out of prison.”

“So, he just knew you’d be up for messing with some innocent girl, huh?”

Ellis hacks out a laugh. “Innocent?” He jabs a finger at my pocket. “You’ve seen the video, she look innocent to you? That girl was the easiest piece of ass I ever scored. Straight up whore.”

Ellis doesn’t even have time to be startled or throw up his hands in self-defense as I charge at him and smash the gun into the side of his face. His head snaps to the side, bright red blood spraying from his mouth, and he spits out two teeth.

“You fucking asshole!” Blood and spittle drip from his lips as he clutches a hand to his jaw. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Why did Oswald Perlmann want you to mess with her? Huh?” I shove the barrel of the gun against his temple, and Ellis whimpers.

“Don’t kill me, man. Please.” He blinks up at me, tears welling in his eyes. “Please, don’t kill me. Look at me. I’m pathetic. I’m nobody.”

“You got that right.” I press the gun harder against his head. “She asked you to stop, didn’t she?”

Ellis coughs out a sob. “I’m sorry, OK?”

“No, you’re not.”

“She dragged me into the bathroom! She opened her fucking legs and let me hit that without a fucking rubber, she fucking wanted it!”

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to contain my fury. “Why did Oswald want you to mess with her?”

“I don’t fuckin know!” Ellis drops to his knees, holding his hands up. “Please, he just said he wanted a video that’d show her being a freak, it was fucked up, OK? But I was desperate. You got any idea how much money that is to someone like me?”

“Did she ask you to stop?” I grit my teeth as my gaze locks on him. “Did she plead for you not to hurt her?”

“She just kept begging for someone to come get her,” Ellis says, his eyes pleading. “She kept saying papi , over and over. I didn’t know who the fuck that was. But she never asked me to stop! I swear!”

I double over, leaning heavily on my knees. “Fuck. Fuck .”

Ellis cowers, his whole body trembling now. “Please, she wanted it, OK? She was just some slut in a club, I never meant to-”

The gunshot rings out, and Ellis is flung flat on his back. His right eye is blown out, the optic nerve hanging from his skull, his mouth wide. A stain spreads across the front of his shorts as he loses control of his bladder.

Craig Ellis dies on the floor of his shitty apartment in a pool of blood and piss. A death that this son of a bitch deserves.

My shoulders are heaving and my mind is racing as I head out of the apartment back to my bike. The cops won’t be far away if someone heard that gunshot. I stow the gun in my bike, and roar out of the parking lot, taking the backroads away from Bakersfield to avoid the interstate.

Oswald fucking Perlmann paid three men to film themselves raping Stella, that I know for sure. Which means Gloria probably had some part in it. They wanted as much dirt on Stella as they could get. But why hold on to this for so long?

My phone buzzes, and I answer it, heavy breathing sounding in my ear over my AirPods.

“Dylan?” Stella’s voice is barely audible.

“ Guera? What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s in the house.”

I gun the engine, speeding down the open road. “Where are you?”

“I’m in the closet,” she whispers. “I can hear them.”

“Baby, stay there, Stay right where you are, I’m on my way.”

“I’m scared.”

“I’m coming, Stella. I’m coming.” Fuck, I’m too far away . “ Guera, listen to me, stay on the phone to me and text Levi.”

“His phone is off,” she breathes. “I… Oh my god, Dylan, they’re coming up the stairs.”

Fuck fuck fuck . “I’m coming, fuck, baby just stay there. I’m coming. I’m coming.”

“I love you.” She sobs softly. “I love you so much.”

“Don’t you fucking do that.” The bike tops out at its maximum speed as I tear down the road but I’m still too far away. “Don’t you fucking say goodbye to me right now, baby. You’re OK. I’m coming. I’m coming right now.”

Suddenly she screams, and my blood runs cold.

“Stella!” Helplessness unlike any other runs through my veins, as I hear her scramble and scream. “Stella!”

“Two men!” Her voice sounds in the distance, like she’s dropped the phone. “Six foot! White! I can’t-” Her voice is cut off with a heavy exhale as though someone’s struck her. “I can’t see their faces!”

“Stella! I’m coming!”

I get closer and closer as I listen to her being beaten, as I hear her scream and beg them to stop. Then the phone goes quiet, and I swear to fuck, if they’ve killed her, I’m about to unleash a hell on this world that will make the devil himself not want me.

Please be alive. Please be fucking alive .