Bouncer by Kim Jones Page 0,37

to look at each one of them.

I don’t give a fuck. I need to find her.

What if she was feeling bad?

What if she caught a cab to the hospital?

I disregard that. I made sure she took her medicine. She was better.

What if she left because of me?

Maybe I’ve been too rough with her. Maybe I didn’t keep enough distance around the brothers and their Ol’ Ladies. Maybe she needs space.

But where would she go?

I think back to the few times she’s given me insight to her life outside the club. The fact she has no family. No friends. Nowhere to call home.

Home.

When she talked about four points, she said that was home.

I run a red light and head in that direction.

I know where it is, but I’ve avoided that part of town any time I’ve been in the area. During the day it’s a street fair. People sell food. Paintings. Play banjos. Dance on cans. All that shit. But at night, it’s where the homeless camp. Where users go for drugs. Where young girls with nowhere to turn are forced to sell their bodies.

I look up at the blackening sky and a shiver rakes over me at the thought.

I pick up speed, risking getting pulled over and not giving one fuck about it.

I’m forced to slow as I roll into the intersection of four points. It’s prime time for this sector.

Cars slow to a stop, red lights illuminating as they ease to the curb to satisfy their vice of choice.

I don’t even know where to start, but I feel in my gut she’s here. So I press on, looking at every face I pass.

I read signs. Look at store fronts.

Stores. In four points.

I remember the guy from the party. The one that made Apple so uncomfortable. More importantly, I remember him saying he had a comic book store in the four points area.

I made him feel small before I kicked his ass from the clubhouse. I know it’s a good place to start because if he caught sight of Apple here, he may have a point to prove.

I roll down the street furiously reading the name of every store.

Bodegas.

Methadone clinics.

Churches.

The Comic Bookstore.

I roll up on the sidewalk and get off my bike. The sign says closed, but I see light inside. I check the door anyway—locked.

I run to the back of the building, knowing there is a backway in. There’s a vehicle in the alley. I assume it belongs to the creep.

I try the handle, but it’s locked. Consequences be damned, I kick the door in.

The door swings open with force, slamming against the wall behind it.

There’s loud music coming from the hall. I can hear murmuring mixed with the lyrics, and I don’t know if it’s just because I want to hear it, but one voice sounds female.

Familiar.

When I find them, Apple is backed against the wall with something sharp in her hand, using it to fend off the guy closing in on her.

She looks…different. Stunning and beautiful and—what the fuck?

I take a quick survey of the room. Two seconds. There’s a camera. Special lighting. A bed. A row of canes. Cuffs. Belts. Paddles. It’s a studio.

Did this motherfucker dress my woman up to put her in a porno?

Did she come here willingly?

When Apple makes eye contact, I have my answer. There’s fear in those big, doe eyes that fades to relief when it registers that it’s me.

I’m here, sweetheart.

I storm up to the man. He follows Apple’s gaze and turns just as I make it to him. My hand closes around his throat and I squeeze, slamming his body against the wall. Listening to the sickening thud of his skull as it punches a hole through the sheetrock.

He stares at me in fear. That only serves to make me think of how Apple must’ve felt, cornered like an animal. “You fucking touch her?” I ask, my voice cold. My blood colder. My instinct to protect what’s mine stronger than I’ve ever felt it.

He can’t answer, so I direct my question to Apple. “Tell me what happened, Apple.”

Her voice is tinged with panic and fear as she relays to me the events. “I was leaving. Going back to the clubhouse. To you. And he-he stopped me in the street. Wouldn’t let me pass. When I turned, he pushed something into my back. Told me it was a gun. He forced me here. When I walked in this room and saw the….”

“Calm down, baby,” I soothe, coaching her through her