by Sam Crescent
They were surrounded.
“Bishop,” she said. “You need to leave.”
“I’m not leaving you.” He held onto her arm, and she heard Reaper’s laugh.
“You’ve got to give the boy credit. He really doesn’t know when he’s not wanted. I mean, why would you even let her get away with it? Forgive me for eavesdropping, but this chick gets knocked up by your father, carries his baby until she loses it, and then shacks up with him anyway. How can you even think of protecting her? Why put yourself in any danger at all? She’s not worth it. She’ll never be worth it. Take it from a guy who knows a thing or two about women, son, she doesn’t love you. She’s using you, and I bet she’s using your father as well.”
“Don’t listen to him, Bishop. He’s trying to get inside your head so you get rid of me. So you turn on me.”
“It’s not going to happen,” Bishop said. “I love her. She’s my best friend, and I’m not letting her go. Not to you. You need to take your men and get the fuck out of here. My dad will kill you if he finds you here.”
Reaper looked around. “Preacher. Come out. I’m waiting for you. Come and show me how the big old man wants to play this?” Silence fell, followed by the chuckles of some of his club.
There was no way out of this.
Her cell phone was in the pocket of her pants. She just needed to find a way to call Preacher.
“You can do this the easy way, kid, or the hard way. I really don’t care. That bitch is coming with us, and you’re surrounded. There’s no way for you to stop what’s happening.”
“I’m not letting you get her.”
“Then it’s your funeral. I did warn you.”
****
“You know you’re not going to get away with this, don’t you? They will find you, and they will kill you. They’re going to make you wish for death long before it’s given.”
“Do you have any idea how many times I heard that statement? I’ve been hearing it for a long time, and so far, no one has been able to stop me, or get me. You want to know why?”
“Fuck you.”
“Unlike you, I know when to be a prick and when to be nice. You’ve made too many enemies, O’Klaren. People want to see you suffer and so do I.”
“You know it’s a shame the slut lost the kid. I know I pissed off someone else as well, and do you want to know who?”
Taking a seat in front of the man he’d paid particular care on how to kill, Preacher smiled. “I’m all ears.”
“Reaper.”
“I know you got into bed with Reaper.” He lifted up a scalpel. When it came to O’Klaren he intended to take a long time in torturing the bastard. With what he had in mind he’d already negotiated a price with Randall to be called to keep O’Klaren alive.
He’d gotten everyone into place, so whoever came looking for O’Klaren would assume he’d run off with some woman. Once people started to ask questions, he already had the necessary evidence to post in order to make O’Klaren’s colleagues look bad. Not only that, but he had the witnesses with Dog, to call up when the time was right.
Preacher never considered himself a patient man, but throughout the years, he’d come to see in order to get shit done, he had no choice but to be patient. It would be so easy to kill, to maim, to hunt, to hurt, and he’d do it gladly, more than gladly, but it wouldn’t help his cause one bit.
Standing up, he circled O’Klaren, wondering what body part would give him the most satisfaction.
People could survive without ears and noses, and nipples. He’d already forced the man naked, and his pathetic excuse for a dick hung down between his legs.
“You think you’re a big tough guy, huh?”
“I don’t think it.” He ran the blade across O’Klaren’s face. The man tried to move away, but all he kept doing was pressing the blade to his skin. The first nick was a sight of beauty to Preacher. Blood oozed out of the small cut, and he loved to see it. Drawing the blade back, he sliced across the man’s arm.
It wasn’t a part of his body of any importance, but it did make him bleed, and seeing it made Preacher happy.
He continued to slice in odd directions, never using a simple pattern, but sliding the blade back and forth.
In his mind, he didn’t hear O’Klaren’s screams, which filled the warehouse; no, they all belonged to Robin.
The night they lost the baby would stay in his mind for so damn long. He couldn’t stand it, but he didn’t stop.
He kept on slicing until O’Klaren was a bloody mess and then he grabbed the man’s cock, ready to take it from him.
“No, please, no, fuck, I beg you. Rebecca!”
Bear came forward. His friend stood a few feet away, arms folded, waiting.
“What the fuck did you say?” Bear asked.
“You think you haven’t got problems. Rebecca, she came to me.”
“You’re lying,” Bear said.
“I wish I was, but she came to me begging for my dick and why would I deny a woman who was so desperate for a real man? She wants to hurt Robin.” O’Klaren laughed. “She really hates that girl. She wants her to suffer because she doesn’t want to see Robin get what she believes she deserves.” O’Klaren looked at him. “The way you look at her and Bishop. Robin’s worshiped, and well, what can I say? When a woman looks at me with those sweet ‘fuck me until I ache’ eyes, I’ve got to give the woman what she wants.” O’Klaren looked from him to Bear. “You really shouldn’t leave Robin without a guard, and the boy, he’s a fucking coward. Reaper wanted her pregnant, but he would settle for just having something that belonged to you, Preacher.”
Still holding O’Klaren’s cock, Preacher sliced it.
Letting the piece of flesh fall to the floor, Preacher grabbed his cell phone, not caring about his bloody hand.
He dialed Robin’s number but didn’t get a response. Within a matter of seconds, he’d dialed the house, Bishop’s number, and finally Robin’s again.
“No answer on either.”
In between moans, O’Klaren started to laugh. “Oops, it sounds to me, you’ve made one big mistake.”
“There’s no way Reaper would take my daughter,” Bear said.
“What about Rebecca? This could all be lies.”
“Oh, it’s not lies,” O’Klaren said. “That woman hates your fucking guts for getting her pregnant. She wants to see you all suffer, and it’s going to be fun to watch her get what she wants.”
Preacher slammed his fist into O’Klaren’s face so that he knocked him out cold.
Without looking back, Preacher walked out of the warehouse, going to his bike. Bear was hot on his heels.
“No, I need you to stay here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? I’m coming with you, and then I’m going to speak to that whore of a wife of mine. I need to know he’s fucking lying.”
“And if this is all a ploy to get us out of there, I need you to hold down the fort. I need you to stay here and keep an eye on everyone.”
Bear shook his head. “Robin’s my little girl. I know I haven’t been the best father to her, but I don’t want anything to happen to her. She’s my girl.”
“I know, and I’m going to be doing everything I can to get her back if she’s been taken. I need you to stay here.”
Bear looked back at the warehouse. “You’ll call me the moment you see her?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I’m going to go and play with him a while.”
“Go and have a whole lot of fun. I don’t mind. I’ll call you when I find her. Don’t let him die. He needs to pay for what he’s done.”
Climbing onto his bike, he gunned the engine and took off, heading back home.
Nothing can happen to her.
I can’t let anyone hurt her.
Robin’s fine. There’s no way Reaper would take her.
He had to be certain.
With each passing second, he didn’t like the pain spiraling in his gut from the thought of Reap
er getting his hands on Robin. He should have dealt with the son of bitch the moment he’d stepped into Knight’s Bridge, but Reaper had backed off, and Preacher didn’t want to deal with casualties, not when he had O’Klaren breathing down his neck.
He’d made one big fat error in judgment, but it wouldn’t happen again. He broke the speed limit, getting to his home, and when he got there, it was dark but his floodlights were one. Pulling into his driveway, he stopped when he saw Bishop, on the porch steps, head in his hand, holding his cell phone.
At the sound of his bike, Bishop looked up, tears in his eyes, face a bloody mess, and it looked like one of his arms was broken.
He got off his bike and walked toward his son.
“Where is she?” he asked.
Bishop held out his cell phone.
“What are we going to do?” Bishop asked.
Preacher stared down at the picture that had been sent to his son’s phone. He hated seeing the look in Robin’s eyes. He recognized the fear. She was trapped with one of the worst monsters in the world, and it was all his fault. If he’d not shown a moment of weakness, Reaper would never have targeted her.
“You came back here?”
“Of course I came back. I know I’m an asshole and I know I don’t deserve her, but I fucking love her. I love her more than anything in the world.”
“What happened?”
“Reaper’s club. They were here. They ambushed us, and knocked me out cold. When I came to, she was gone, and the picture was on my cell phone. I don’t know how long I was out. They have her. They’re going to hurt her.”
Preacher stared down at the phone. He couldn’t deny what was going to happen. He’d be lying to his son.
“What are we going to do?” Bishop asked, the sob in his voice filling the air.
“I’m going to find her, that’s what I’m going to do, and when I get my hands on Reaper, I’m going to tear him apart.”
“Do you love her?” Bishop asked as Preacher made his way back to his bike. He stopped and turned to his son. “Well, do you? You use women. You don’t care about them. You don’t love them. How do I know this is any different with Robin?”
“Because she’s mine, Bishop, and I’m not going to stop until I get her back.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
He looked at Bishop. In the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t owe this kid anything. He’d given him a good life, but seeing as he’d stolen his girlfriend from him, it was only fair.
“More than you even realize.”
He didn’t have time to express how he felt about Robin. Bishop would realize the truth when he got her back. He needed to hunt.
To be continued…
Note from author:
OMG!!! If you’re here you are probably hating and cursing me right now. I totally understand, and I get it. Please bear with me. Whenever I do duets, or now for this a trilogy, I will write them all together before I even dream of submitting. So, I hope it’s not too big of a gap. I hope you loved the start of this journey. I know I couldn’t get this story out of my head, and it has been one I’ve wanted to write for some time.
Book Two: Taken by a Monster
Book Three: A Monster’s Beauty
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BONUS SAMPLE CHAPTER
DRAGO’S WOMAN
Sam Crescent and Stacey Espino
Copyright © 2020
Sample Chapter
Ten fights.
Nine completed.
One more to go.
Belle gripped the edge of the sink, feeling sick to her stomach. She was covered in more bruises than she could count. Old ones, new ones, they covered her flesh like she was a canvas for torture. Even her father—the asshole that he’d been—had allowed her to rest after each fight.
Even though she knew her body needed the rest, that she had to take time, she didn’t have that luxury. They had her little girl. She covered her face, trying to contain the sob at the thought of her baby daughter. The only thing that was good in her world, and the men who ran the underground fighting ring had taken her baby from her. She was only a year old, but that hadn’t stopped the bastards.
Forcing the tears aside, Belle stared at her face, and she didn’t recognize the woman who stared back at her. She was broken, she saw that now. There had been a time not so long ago when she thought she could finally get away from the constant fighting and death, but that wasn’t ever going to happen.
Even after these ten fights, she knew they’d demand more. Maybe they’d hold her little girl over her head. Whatever was going to happen, she felt sick to her stomach. Grabbing the trash can just in time, she threw up, bringing the small lunch she’d been able to eat.
After being violently sick, she collapsed on the floor, drawing her knees up, trying to remember her father’s fighting talk.
“I don’t want to, Daddy. I hate it.”
“You’ve got to, pumpkin. This is what you were made for.”
She hadn’t been made for fighting. This life wasn’t natural, and it was only when she’d gotten older that she realized the lies she’d been fed by that man. This wasn’t a good life or a healthy one but one that was part of the dark world they lived in.
People loved the underground fighting rings. The sport without rules where lives were constantly at risk for one bet or another. She hated it. There was also an even darker circle than a bunch of adults fighting.
Her father had drawn her into that shitty life. The life where kids were pitted against each other. She started out as being the fat kid that everyone could pummel. She hated being hit as each strike against her flesh had hurt.
Seeing as her mother didn’t give a shit about her and her father wanted the money, she forced herself to train, to get better, to get stronger so that she was no longer a punching bag. She was a force to be reckoned with.
They didn’t send her to school, so no one ever asked questions. In fact, as far as the world was concerned, she’d been home-schooled. She hadn’t.
Her parents moved her from place to place, enjoying the money that was earned from her fighting.
Then when she’d turned twenty-one, she’d finally worked up the courage to walk away. She’d turned her back on fighting completely.
Her name had been up there with the greats. In fact, she’d been considered in the same circle as another fighter, a man much older than she was, and who had a much deadlier reputation. She never knew what happened to Drago, but she’d seen him fight so many times.
They’d even talked a few times. He’d sat next to her and told her to keep on going, to not let anyone know that they were getting to her.
She didn’t even know why she thought about him right in that moment. He had long since left the ring and the fighting behind. She didn’t know what had happened to him. If he was doing okay or not?
Rubbing the heels of her hands against her eyes, she felt the exhaustion in her body.
Since leaving the ring at twenty-one, she’d done a couple of one-off fights to help earn her some quick cash. After that, she worked as a waitress at a diner. It was there that she met the man who had used her for a quick screw. He’d wanted the credit for finally banging the “fighting Belle”. That’s what her father had called her. She hated the name but it had stuck, and so had her reputation.
After he screwed her big time, he’d left her. He’d also left her with a little baby, and this all happened a year and a half ago. Her baby was
the only thing that was good in the world.
Then one night she’d been leaving the diner when three men had taken her by surprise. They wanted her to fight, and when she refused, they took her baby and forced this on her. If she wanted to see her little girl again, she’d fight.
Nine fights done.
One to go.
She felt sick to her stomach because she knew they’d want more.
Men that took an innocent child as collateral were not to be trusted, and she didn’t trust them, not one bit.
“You look like fucking shit.”
She looked up to see Ben, one of the men who’d taken her baby from her, standing near the door.
Belle didn’t say a word. She simply waited.
“One fight to go. You’ve been on fire. A little sloppy at times, but I guess after having a baby, that shit all goes south eventually.” He clapped his hands together looking mightily excited. “You hear that crowd. They’re after a good show.”
She stared at her hands. Her knuckles were bruised and cracked. They hurt so much. The fights were bare knuckled, no way of having any protection.
Her stomach was also bruised, and if she moved a little too suddenly, she felt the pain in her ribs. There was probably a crack or two there.
Bruises covered her face, her lip was split, and there were also finger marks around her neck from where one of the fighters had gotten her on the floor and started to choke her. She’d been close to passing out when the fighter had moved, and she’d been able to get the upper hand, and win that fight.
“Are you going to give us a good show?” Ben reached out to touch her, but she swatted his hand away.