Lake’s Legacy (Demon Dawgs MC: New Orleans #3)

Chapter Sixteen Olivia

CHAPTER SIXTEEN: OLIVIA

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You two are coming with us. Don’t make a fucking sound. I’ll gladly shoot the bitch and her spawn. Take these and tie her to the bed.” He hands us each a zip tie. We reluctantly attach her ankles to the stirrups. When we finish, he shoves a roll of gauze into my hand. “Gag her.” I wrap the gauze around her mouth, staring into her tear-filled eyes. “Tighter, or I’ll do it and make it hurt.” With an apology, I tighten the gag.

“Good enough. Now, let’s get moving. Out the back and don’t make a fucking sound.”

Annette and I glance at each other before following them outside. I see Annette slide a scalpel into her jeans and wish I could mimic her action. Celeste whimpers as we leave. The leader stays inside with Celeste while the others drag us through the swamp. I’m terrified for Celeste. What if the asshole who stayed behind hurts her? Or what if he kills her and her child? I don’t know whether to be relieved or concerned when he catches up to us a few minutes later. I didn’t hear the sound of a shot, so I’m hopeful he left Celeste alive. After several minutes, we break into a small clearing containing three motorcycles.

Two hop on their bikes while the third waves the gun at us. “Get on the back.”

We both balk, but the one with the gun steps up to Annette and places the barrel between her eyes. I scramble onto the back of the bike nearest me. The driver grabs my wrists and pulls them to the front. He zip-ties my wrists together. I glance over to see Annette on the second bike, with her wrists also tied.

“Don’t think about making them crash. I’ll be behind you. I’ll shoot you if I have to.”

The man I’m strapped to smells like he has a religious aversion to soap. I try shifting away from him to get some fresh air. He reaches up and yanks my arms forward again so I’m plastered against his back. The man who threatened us rides up next to me and aims the gun at me. I don’t think he’ll shoot. He’d risk his friend, but I take heed of the warning. Luckily, the drive is quick, and we pull behind a cabin.

The leader parks far enough ahead that I can make out the logo on his kutte. A bald eagle with his wings pulled wide. In each talon is a flag. The flag on the left is the Confederate flag, while the other is a German flag displaying the Swastika. The assholes stole America’s icon and defiled it with the flags of our enemies. Fuckers. The words ‘Third Reich’ stretch over the emblem, but the bottom rocker is missing. I’m confident this is the same emblem the assholes at the restaurant had on their backs. So, the gang extorting money in New Orleans are the ones harassing Lake’s people. However, these men aren’t the same ones who entered the restaurant. So, the gang has at least six members—maybe more. We need to get away from these men so I can tell Lake.

Once they’ve cut the zip ties, our drivers grab our arms and yank us inside. The third man follows with his gun still out. We can’t escape. They march us through the house and into the kitchen. However, they lead us into a cellar before I can look around. The cellar lacks a window, so the only light comes from the open door at the top of the stairs.

I hear Annette sniffle next to me. I’m too pissed to cry.

“What do you want with us?” I demand.

They ignore me.

“You’ve signed your death warrants. The men we were with are going to come looking for us, and when they find us, you’re dead.”

The man with the gun smirks at us, but the one I rode behind snorts. “Fucking injuns? I hope they come. I’m ready for some target practice. Riding around in circles like a bunch of dumb fucks. We can pick them off one by one. Stupid motherfuckers.”

His accent tells me he’s from the Deep South, likely Alabama. I can picture him yelling ‘yee haw’ as he hops onto his motorcycle. He’s wearing dirty jeans and a faded shirt with the wording ‘Real Men Shoot Their Load.’ Classy.

Annette snorts with derision. “Those old movies were shit. Only an idiot would believe them. So, I’m not surprised you do.”

He swings his arm back to backhand her, but the leader snaps at him.

“Leave it. Our friend wants them without marks. I’m not risking the payday because you’re a moron.”

I share a look with Annette. Someone wants us? Why?

“Who wants us? Who are you working for?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, you’re just a distraction. Your disappearance will keep those assholes busy.”

With those words, they climb the stairs, slamming the door shut behind them. I hear the lock slide into place. We’re trapped in the dark.

“We need to get out of these zip ties,” Annette says, moving next to me. “See if you can get the scalpel in my pocket.”

My eyes have adjusted to the darkness so I can make out shapes. Finding Annette, I feel for the scalpel in her pocket. Sliding my fingers in, I carefully remove it.

“Pull your wrists apart as wide as you can,” I instruct her. She does, which gives me just an inch to work with. Taking great care, I slide the scalpel into the gap before cutting the ties. I can’t risk knicking her with the scalpel. The consequences are too dire. Once I cut her ties, she cuts mine. We can at least move around. Plus, we have a weapon. I’m hoping we can find another.

“I know where we are,” Annette says, putting the scalpel back in her pocket.

“Where?”

“This is Running Bear’s home. He died a few months ago. His kids moved away and left this place abandoned.”

“I don’t suppose Running Bear built a secret entrance to his cellar, by any chance?” I ask in jest.

“Maybe. Sometimes, cellars often have more than one entrance. Let’s look around and see if we can find one.”

We each move in different directions to start our search. I can’t see past my face, so I use my hands. Not that I expect to find a hidden door, but at least we’re doing something other than worrying about the men coming back. Or worse, the men leaving us here.

“Dammit,” Annette curses from across the room.

“What happened?”

“I tripped over these logs. Wait. This is an entire stack of logs.”

“I don’t think we should start a fire down here,” I chastise her, even though I feel the room's chill.

“I wasn’t recommending we start one, but this stack of wood is not near the door. I don’t see Running Bear hauling this wood down those steps and storing the wood this far from the door. He probably has a trap door above this pile that he used to drop the wood from outside. We need to move this wood out of the way.”

“I have an idea.” After several trips, we have created a barrier that will delay our captors from reaching us. We’ve stacked the logs five layers deep. They can’t push open the door without alerting us and exerting some strength. Lucky for us, none of the men were muscular. We’ve also worked up a sweat, so we no longer feel the chill.

“Okay, we need to search the top of the wall and the ceiling,” Annette instructs.

We begin our search again. This time, I’m the one who makes a discovery. “I think I feel something. Feels like a slit in the wall.” Whatever it is, it sits high up on the wall.

We shift a few logs to build a platform on which to stand. When we both find hinges, we hit pay dirt.

“I have the handle. Here, help me pull,” Annette says. I locate her hands, and we both pull on the metal ring. The trap door pops open. “Good. Let’s get out of here. I’ll help you up, and then you can help me. Once we’re free, head for the bayou. I can lead us through it.”

Since I’m several inches taller than Annette, I quickly pull myself up through the opening. It’s a tight fit, but I manage. Turning, I reach down and grasp hold of Annette’s wrists. That’s when we hear the men attempt to open the door. They cuss and throw themselves at it when they can’t shove it open. Annette scrambles up, using my body as a ladder. I’m helping her through when I hear a gun go off. Pain rips across my scalp as we tumble backward onto the ground.

“Move!” Annette hisses. We make a beeline for the thick foliage. The fear of a bullet in my back gives me speed.