Chapter One
Estella
There were eyes on me as I hopped out of the car. I
could feel them burning into me as I hurried towards the Penthill Community
Center.
The Madden gang. They were the ones
watching me.
About eight of them sat on
motorcycles in the deserted parking lot of Jensen’s
Grill across the street. The parking
lot was probably deserted because of them. I didn’t know anyone who would
voluntarily want to be in the same vicinity as the Madden gang. Anyone who did
was, in all honesty, downright insane.
There were only three things I knew
about the Madden gang. The gang had begun with three brothers, but had over
twenty members in it now. Secondly, they were rivals with the Allbrook
motorcycle gang. And, finally, I knew that they absolutely terrified me.
They were intimidating, muscular
figures covered in tattoos and piercings, notorious for drinking, dealing
drugs, and were responsible for most of the violence that occurred in the small
town of Penthill. Thankfully, I lived in Statlen, which was a good half hour’s
drive to Penthill, so we rarely saw them around.
Still, when I did venture to Penthill
to volunteer in the soup kitchen two afternoons after school, I always kept an
eye out for the Madden gang. I’d been coming to Penthill for about a month now
and hadn’t run into them.
Until today.
The sound of an engine throttling
startled me and I stumbled forwards and fell onto the pavement. A roar of
laughter erupted and, straightening myself up, I glanced across the street to find
that the boys of the Madden gang were laughing. At me.
My face went hot and I knew that it
was as red as a beetroot right now. Why had I let something so trivial scare
me? I really had to get my act together. I couldn’t have a mental breakdown
every time I heard a motorcycle being revved or saw the Madden gang.
Feeling beyond embarrassed, I tried
to collect myself as I continued down the street to where the community center
stood. I’d never been happier to see the rundown place in my life.
As I pushed open the glass door and
entered the building, I could distinctly hear the boys still laughing. I’d
never been more relieved to be out of the street.
Penthill Community Center was a
dilapidating building that was used for numerous purposes. Town meetings and
elections were often held here, but every Monday and Friday afternoon at 5 pm
it became a soup kitchen for the local homeless.
I’d started volunteering here a month
ago after my brother, Nathan, had seen an ad posted on a noticeboard at his
college. I’d been a volunteer at the Statlen animal shelter for a while, but I’d
wanted to do more for the community, so I’d signed up here.
“Hey, Estella!” Michelle said from
behind the service desk. Michelle was in her late-twenties with beautiful red
hair that flowed halfway down her back and had a smile that could brighten up
your entire day. Michelle was the one who ran the volunteer program and managed
everything. She was great at what she did.
“Hi,” I said as I walked up to where
she was sorting through some paperwork. “You’ve started early today.”
Michelle shrugged and shot me a
forlorn look. “We lost two volunteers in a week so I’m trying to reassign
tasks. I have to work something out until we can get someone to manage the
substance abuse group.”
The woman was a machine. If she
wasn’t helping out in the kitchen, she was doing paperwork. If she wasn’t doing
paperwork, she was running one of the self-help groups.
As well as feeding the homeless,
after dinner we split them into smaller groups to help them with their personal
problems. Some of them were alcoholics, gamblers or addicted to drugs. The
older volunteers would take a group and talk to them about their options and
how to work towards getting off the streets. I didn’t manage a group, but I
liked to stick around and absorb what everyone had to say.
“That sucks,” I said with a frown.
“Hopefully we’ll find people to fill in.”
Michelle didn’t look hopeful. “No one
wants to work in Penthill for free with that Madden gang lurking around.”
My cheeks went hot from the fresh
memory of being laughed at by them. “Yeah, speaking of them, they’re right
across the street.”
Michelle’s expression darkened. “I
know. I saw them on my way in. I hope they don’t scare away our clients.”
“Are they really as bad as everyone
says they are?”
Michelle shook her head. “No, they’re
worse. They steal, they vandalize, and they beat people up to the point of being
unrecognizable. If you’ve ever heard a story about the Madden gang, multiply it
by ten because those boys are just about the worst thing around these parts.”
I frowned. “If I ever run into one of
them, I’d like to give them a piece of my mind…”
“If you ever run into one of them, I
suggest you run in the opposite direction if you value your life.”
I sighed. Michelle was right. You
didn’t poke an angry bull in the eye; you ran away from it screaming. “Why
don’t the police do anything about them?”
Michelle shrugged. “Too scared, I
guess. I wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of one of those boys. There
isn’t a law, or a bone, they won’t break.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine,
and I felt cold all over. All this morbid talk about the Madden gang was
bringing down the mood. I really wanted to be done with this conversation.
“Is everyone else here yet?” I asked,
changing the topic.
Michelle went back to sorting through
her papers. “They’re prepping for dinner.”
“Okay, I better go help out,” I said,
bringing a smile to my face.
Michelle nodded absently and I left
her to do her paperwork. As I headed towards the kitchen to help with dinner, I
was looking forward to losing myself in my work and forgetting all about the
Madden gang.
Those boys were the stuff nightmares
were made of.
***
My brother was running late.
Nine out of ten times I loved Nathan,
but tonight was not one of those nights. He was supposed to be here thirty
minutes ago, but he’d texted me to say that he’d been late leaving his
girlfriend’s house after dinner.
Everyone was gone and I was left
standing in the cold outside the community center. The weather in winter was
unpredictable. We’d wake up with cool mornings that would end with freezing
nights. I was foolishly dressed in baggy jeans and a t-shirt made from a flimsy
material that seemed to absorb the cool air.
“Estella Markson, you are a silly,
silly girl,” I said to myself in a British accent as my teeth chattered.
Don’t ask me why I spoke to myself in
a British accent. The habit had started when I’d been little and my mother and
I had watched British comedies together. Mom and I had begun imitating the
actors and it had sort of just stuck with me. British accents made simple words
sound so much better.
“Estella Markson, do you always talk
to yourself?”
The voice came out of nowhere and I
jumped back, glancing from side to side. The streetlights were on the other
side of the road, so this side of the street was full of shadows. From my right,
a solid figure detached itself from the wall and began walking towards me.
It was a boy. Well a man, I guess. He
looked like he was a few years older than me. He was dressed in fitted black jeans
and a black leather jacket. My senses were on high alert and I didn’t take my
eyes off him.
As he came closer and the dim light
fell on him, I noticed that he had longish brown hair that was slicked back. A
strand or two fell onto his face like they’d been artfully placed that way.
And, wow, that face. It was chiseled and taut with full lips and a cleft on the
chin.
The guy was downright hot and he’d
heard me talking to myself. Could I be any more embarrassing? Still, hot guys
could be muggers or rapists and I wasn’t going to let my guard down just
because he had a pretty face.
“Um…uh…I.” I glanced around, hoping
to see someone around, but there was no one walking the streets. It was just me
and the guy.
“What are you doing out here all by
yourself, Stelle?”
Stelle. The hot guy had just called
me Stelle. He had just spoken to me and a normal person would say something
back, but obviously I wasn’t capable of being normal for one second.
“Oh…I’m...uh…waiting for someone.” I
was still feeling threatened. Maybe he was a distraction and he had an
accomplice who would grab me from behind. I darted a glance over my shoulder,
but the streets were still empty.
He cocked a brow. “Your boyfriend?”
I deserved a medal for how stupid I
was acting. Now the hot, possibly dangerous, guy thought I was a complete
psycho and that I had a boyfriend. “No, no, my brother.” Then, for good
measure, I added, “He’s a decorated police officer.”
The guy leaned against the wall of
the community center and pulled a cigarette out of his pocket. He lit it up,
inhaled, and blew out a cloud of smoke before turning back to me. “Is that so?”
I nodded, scrunching up my nose at
the horrible smell of the cigarette. “Yep, and he has a gun and a Taser.”
“Fascinating.” The guy regarded me
with his dark eyes and then smirked. “Your brother’s not really a police
officer, is he?”
My heartbeat accelerated from my lie
being caught out. I shook my head, my body trembling from the biting cold.
“N-no. He’s a student at Statlen University.”
His eyes sparkled. “Let me tell you
something, darlin’. If you’re in this part of Penthill this late at night by
yourself, don’t lie to a guy you don’t know and then admit that you were lying.
At least follow through with the ‘my brother’s a police officer’ story.”
I gulped. He was right. I was stupid
for coming up with the lie and even more stupid for admitting that I’d lied in
the first place.
“Just because my brother’s not a
police officer, doesn’t mean that he still won’t kick your ass if you try
anything funny.”
The guy held up a hand in defense, an
amused smile lingering on his lips. “I’m not gonna lay a hand on you unless you
tell me to, Stelle.”
There he went calling me Stelle again
like he’d known me for years. And I still had no idea who he was. “I don’t even
know your name.”
“Vincent,” he said simply, taking a
puff of his cigarette again.
I narrowed my eyes as the cigarette
smoke drifted into my face. “Well, Vincent, if you’re going to continue talking
to me then you need to put that thing out.”
Vincent’s eyebrows shot up and he
regarded me with this look on his face, like he couldn’t quite figure me out.
Finally, he sighed and flicked the cigarette onto the pavement and put it out
with the sole of his boot.
He turned back to me, looking
thoroughly annoyed. “So, Stelle, is there anything else I can change about
myself to accommodate you better during this five minute conversation?”
Taken aback by his tone, I shook my
head. Seriously, where was my brother when I needed him? There was nothing
stopping this guy from kidnapping me except for a vague threat about my no-show
brother.
“N-no, it’s f-fine. I j-just…” I
trailed off, my teeth still chattering. I wasn’t too sure if my teeth were
chattering in fear or from the cold.
Vincent sighed. “Oh, for God’s sake. Here!”
He began pulling off his leather jacket and I started shaking my head, not
wanting to annoy him further.
“I’m not c-cold…Y-you’re not trying
to get me to let my guard down and then kidnap me, are you? Because my family
has no money to pay for a ransom…”
I was hypnotized by how dark his eyes
were, as he swung the jacket over my shoulders and slipped both my arms through
each sleeve. Shivers ran up my arms as his hand brushed my skin.
A slow grin spread across Vincent’s
face that both excited and terrified me. He leaned in closer and my eyes
snapped to those full lips of his. “I think I should be the one fearing for my
safety. You were just talking to yourself in a British accent a few minutes
ago.”
Heat spread from my neck to my face
and then back again. Feeling mortified, I lowered my gaze onto his neck. There
was a squiggle on it. I squinted at it, trying to figure out what the
marking was. Giving up, I let my eyes wander to his bare arms.
I stopped breathing.
Oh my God. I couldn’t believe what I
was seeing.
Layer upon layer of tattoos were
inked on his arm—both arms, in fact—intertwined with one another, some images,
some words. I’d never seen someone with that many tattoos in my life. Why would
someone want to get so many? What purpose did they serve?
And that’s when my eyes shot back to
his neck and the squiggle that was on it. The squiggle wasn’t a squiggle at
all. It was a tattoo in a medieval looking style that said “M”.
The realization hit me like a ton of
bricks.
The purpose of the tattoos was to
instill fear and intimidate others, that was why he had them. The ‘M’ wasn’t
some random squiggle or letter. It had a purpose too. It defined who he was,
what he was known for.
He was in the Madden gang.
