Page 8 of Adding Fuel To The Flames

CHAPTER 3

“Hey, Rhys, are you in here?” Jett called out as he stepped into the dimly lit club. Getting no response, Jett moved farther inside, letting the door close behind him. He crossed the room, stepping around piles of tarps and paint cans. Once he reached the bar, he called out again, “Hey, Rhys! You here buddy? I came as fast as I could!”

Still no answer. “Great. I rushed all the way here doing over ninety through the mountain pass, almost taking out a family of deer in the process, because Rhys called, crying, begging for help, and now the guy isn’t even here,” Jett mumbled to himself, then turned to leave, but then stopped. “No. There is no way Rhys would do that. Hell, I don’t know anyone who would do that. And with Zev’s psycho father roaming free…Rhys!”

Jett spun back around and headed toward the far end of the club as he continued to call out Rhys’ name. Jett was beginning to panic as he quickened his pace and turned toward the hall leading back to the offices.

Suddenly Rhys appeared, strolling out of the hall like nothing was wrong, while reading from a folder in his hands. He stopped short and looked up in surprise when Jett snarled, “What they fuck, dude? You scared the shit out of me.”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same thing to you,” Rhys bitched as he placed a hand on his chest and started breathing heavily. “What the fuck are you doing here and why are you yelling? I’m not deaf you know.”

Jett’s eyes went wide for a moment as annoyed shock crossed his face. “Why am I here? Oh gee, I don’t know. Getting a frantic phone call at midnight from a crying pixie who is being chased by a Mac truck carrying fruit loops and a shit ton of crazy might answer that,” Jett huffed.

“What the hell are you taking about? You got a call from Twix? But he’s not here,” Rhys stated as he walked toward the bar.

Jett took a deep calming breath and ran his fingers through his hair. Slowly letting the air out, he turned to follow Rhys. “No, not Twix, you.”

Rhys stopped at the long-polished bar and placed the folder down, then turned to face Jett. “Me? I didn’t call you.”

“Yes, you did, about half an hour ago. I just got off duty and was heading home when you called. You were panicking and crying, begging for help. Something about Salem being outside the club pounding to get in, and he was breaking the door down.”

“Jett, although I appreciate you rushing here to help me, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I did not call you. A half an hour ago, I was in a meeting with the new guy I hired to manage the club. He just left ten minutes ago.”

“You hold meetings at midnight?”

“In this business, you hold meetings, and even job interviews, whenever you can. The guy is managing another club a town over and this was the only time he had before he headed into work there.”

Jett stared at Rhys in confusion for a few minutes, then turned his head, looking around the deserted club. “Well, if it wasn’t you I talked to, then who was it?” Jett turned back around to face Rhys and saw a two-by-four coming his way. It was too late to duck, and the thing smashed him in the face. Everything went black.

Rhys’ eyes opened slowly and he moaned painfully. Rhys looked down and saw that his wrists and ankles were strapped to the arms and legs of a chair with duct tape. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. His mouth was taped closed with more duct tape.

A deep grunt echoed through the room and Rhys lifted his head. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to clear his vision, when suddenly they went wide. Jett was sitting about ten yards from him in another chair and he was strapped down as well. Not only did he have duct tape like Rhys, but heavy chains, too.

Jett raised his head, his face was covered in dried blood, and there was a piece of duct tape across his mouth. His head lolled to the right a little, as he blinked his eyes, then shook his head slightly. His gaze met Rhys’ and his eyes opened wider and filled with panic. Jett looked around frantically, then down his body as he tugged on his restraints.

Rhys looked around at their surroundings. They were in a large warehouse. A few piles of boxes were scattered around, shelves sat in the far corner with more boxes, but there wasn’t much else. None of the overhead lights were on. The only light was coming from three large skylights high above their heads, allowing the glow of the moon in.

Heavy footsteps sounded from far away, and as they grew closer, Rhys’s eyes widened. He looked toward the sound and watched as a large, dark figure appeared. Rhys began to scream behind the tape and wiggle around, trying to free himself, as Salem Brady stepped into the moonlight, disclosing who was there.

Salem stopped between them. He was huge and menacing looking. He wore ripped blue jeans, and a tight back tee, with big black combat boots on his feet. His dark hair was slicked back from his face and tied at the nape. A heavy goatee framed his lips. Slowly he looked left, then right, and a sinister smile stretched across his face as his eyes lit up. “Well, boys. It’s good to see that you are both awake,” Salem said in a very deep, husky voice. “Looks like play time has finally arrived.”

Salem turned toward Jett and walked to him, closing the distance between them. He thrust his fingers through the top of Jett’s hair, then gripped the back, snapping Jett’s head back so that he was looking up at Salem. Jett’s eyes filled with rage as his jaw clenched.

“Got myself two bottom boys for the price of one. Who would have guessed that finding that sweet morsel over there would bring me to you? I have waited a long time to get my hands on you, boy. I knew I should have killed you all those years ago, instead of letting you live. You are the only man in the world who could take my boy from me and stop me from teaching him his true calling in life. Still, Zev chose your ass over family. Over his own blood,” Salem sneered and released Jett’s head harshly.

Salem turned to look at Rhys and smiled. “But looky here what I got now. So, which one of you boys should I play with first? Maybe the pretty one over there and make you watch, Jett? Or maybe I should take you first and record it, then send it to my disgraceful son. Show him how a real man takes what he wants.”

Salem turned back to Jett, standing in front of him, then bent at the waist so that his face was only inches from Jett’s. “Would you like that, boy? You seem like you would be a wildcat in bed, just like that little spitfire over there. Usually I like my boys to look more like the little tramp over there. It’s easier to throw them around, make them do what I want, but you, I can see what my Zev sees in you. You’re pretty hot for a big lug. So, tell me, pretty boy, do you prefer it on your hands and knees? Or on your back?”

Salem laughed manically in Jett’s face. “Keep looking at me like you’re gonna kill me, boy, and I may not go easy on you. I may have to go rather rough on you and teach my boy Zev that’s what happens to defiant little boys who betray their kin.”

“So!” Salem said loudly as he slapped his hands together and straightened. “Which one of you pretty boys get the pleasure of my company first?”

Salem looked back to Jett and reached out, yanking the tape off his mouth forcefully. “You look like you have something to say, cock lover.”

“Touch one hair on Rhys, and I swear, I will kill you slowly and painfully,” Jett said through gritted teeth.

“Well, you’re not in any position to be making threats like that are you, O’Bryan? Are you really outraged that I’ll be taking that little tart whether he likes it or not? Or is all this anger coming because I’ll be having him and not you? Want a little taste of his tight little ass for yourself, is that it?”