Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

  Duke perked up at this news. “What’s their angle? Are they tryin’ to go more upscale?”

  Cowboy grimaced. “From what I could see at their strip club, it was strictly junkies and runaways—girls who wouldn’t be missed.”

  Coyote shook his head. “Nah, not upscale— more guarded, but maybe they’ve got a new business partner, or an influx of cash. This place is secure as hell—they’ve got cameras, guards, the whole nine yards and then some.”

  Steele reached for some papers in his bag. “Frost gave me some reports. They’ve had a rash of junkies overdosing all over the county—all of ‘em stone cold dead. Some of these girls have been missin’ for weeks or months. Maybe the Raptors decided to clean house since Daisy and Cowboy got a good look at their operation?”

  “Fuck.” Cowboy slammed a hand against the table. “I shoulda pulled them out of there.”

  “It ain’t your fault,” Captain said. “You can lay that at my door for delayin’ this shit. I needed to be sure before I start a war.”

  “How about we blame the fuckin’ Raptors?” Shep offered. “They’re the bastards who caused this shit storm.” He turned to Cowboy. “And don’t worry, brother, they’ll pay in blood.”

  Cowboy nodded, but Duke thought his brother looked a bit green in the face.

  “I’ve got other news!” Coyote said. “I’ve been stalkin’ the Raptors online too. I hacked their website and sent their members Trojans.”

  Steele opened his mouth to speak, but Coyote cut him off.

  “The computer virus, not the condom. And of course dumb and dumber read the emails and clicked on my links, so now I have all their keystrokes reporting directly to me. I’ve been pokin’ around their servers too, and I found out about their side businesses.”

  “Don’t leave us in suspense, brother,” Shep said.

  “Porn. They’re doing porn.” Coyote raised both eyebrows. “Oh and drug distribution. This is like sin city–porn, drugs, and sex too.”

  Steele shook his head. “From your tone, I thought this was gonna be good news.”

  “Surprise, it’s not. I mean it’s good for me, obviously, because I’ve got fine ass hacking skills. I’m a cyber ninja. I was in and out, and they didn’t even know I was there.”

  “Coyote, get back on your fuckin’ thought train and ride it out.” Captain rolled his eyes.

  “Right. Back to the main point. I love porn. Who doesn’t? It’s one of the best things about the internet—free and easy dirty pictures, but this isn’t your normal fuck-a-thon. This is kinky, creepy, eyeball-searing nasty.”

  Coyote continued on. “It makes sense. These girls come from bad homes without people to miss them. If the girls were turned out with sex skills and flashy wardrobes, they could charge a big price, but they’re abducting women. They don’t have as much, er, value. I think that’s why some of them are… expendable.”

  The word expendable sunk in all right. Duke hazarded a guess they were letting johns damage the merchandise. Maybe doing torture porn?

  Coyote confirmed his suspicions. “I think… I don’t know… but from what I’ve picked up from some of their coded conversations, they might be doing some snuff films. Or catering to a niche prostitution market.”

  “What kind of niche?” Steele asked.

  “Sadists,” Coyote answered. “The kind of men who get off on hurting girls.”

  “These bastards need to be brought down,” Shep said.

  “Looking at their bank statements,” Coyote said, “they’ve made major dinero on this porn crap. They’ve got subscribers from five states. Much more lucrative than running whores.”

  “I heard all I need to. So we load up, yeah? Walk in, guns blazin’.” Steele raised his brows and glanced around the table.

  Coyote shook his head. “Only if we want to fuck over my plan. We can’t Hulk Smash our way through this. We gotta go in all stealthy and keep this tight. I want the client list, and they didn’t put it on the server. If we go in half-cocked, they’ll burn the info to keep us from getting it. I only got half of what I need, only the aliases the men use. The bastards viewing this filth need to pay too, not just the Raptors.”

  “We ain’t the cops,” Shep said.

  “No, but I don’t have a problem going Wiki Leaks on their asses. Why not post the client list? Let people know what perverted fucks their neighbors are? And if the justice system gets involved after that… so be it.”

  Duke nodded, but privately, he was more of a death penalty sort of man. Far as he was concerned, the bastards deserved to pay with their lives. Duke wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.

  The brothers dipped their heads in agreement.

  “I know the best time too. Wednesday afternoon–that’s tomorrow–they got a club meeting, so the place will be nearly unguarded—only a few prospects. I’ll be going so I can get the info, but I need a good shooter—or two, or three or more.”

  Everyone glanced at Cowboy, who shook his head. “No can do, they know my face. As soon as they saw me, they’d know somethin’ was up.”

  Cowboy had learned trick shooting in the rodeo, and he never missed a shot.

  “What about Duke? And one of the prospects,” Captain put in.

  Duke smiled. No problem here.

  “That ain’t much firepower,” Shep said. “I’ll go too.”

  “Count me in,” Steele offered.

  Captain nodded. “Fine, but we’ll keep this operation focused. Get in, release the girls, grab the client list, and get out without a flashy shootout.”

  “Which prospect do you want?” Shep asked Coyote.

  Coyote thought a second. “Pretty Boy. He’s good in a fight.”

  Shep frowned. “What about Fetch instead?”

  “Pretty Boy can handle himself,” Duke said. “I ain’t got any faith in the rest of them, but that’s beside the point. And I think we should show some of the footage to Daisy and Rose. They might have seen these johns. They could ID the bastards, give us somethin’ to go on. It might give us more intel.”

  “I don’t want either of them getting hurt again,” Captain said. “Unlike the Raptors, we don’t put women in danger.”

  “I second that,” Cowboy said.

  “All I’m sayin’ is they look at the footage. Ain’t no harm in it.”

  “Maybe not physical,” Cowboy said. “But I sure as hell think they’ve been through enough, especially Rose, without bringing up old memories.”

  “We need the intel,” Captain put in. “Brace yourselves, brothers, we’re about to go to war. This is gonna be bloody and difficult, but at the end of the fuckin’ day, we’ll win this—then we’ll force those pieces of shit out of our territory.”

  Everyone was tense but resigned. It had to be done.

  Some things were worth fighting for.

  ***

  The next day, Duke pressed himself against a cold cement wall as he waited for Coyote to work his internet mojo on the inner Raptors’ CCTV system. He and Pretty Boy stood on either side of the rear entrance.

  Yo had already shut down the outside cameras, and none of the bastards inside had even bothered to investigate. Pretty Boy stood next to him, cell phone in hand, checking for Coyote’s text message.

  They’d decided to divide up the doors to the Raptors’ compound and enter all at once, split the focus. The Raptors had left a handful of prospects in charge. Should be easy. Didn’t mean it couldn’t turn to shit.

  The place looked like more of a prison than a brothel or a low-rent porn studio. It had concrete walls, and from what he could see through the windows, it looked industrial inside—cement floors and walls, stainless steel tables, and the like.

  Pretty Boy got the text and held the phone up to show Duke. He held up three fingers, counting it down, and then Duke kicked in the door, the prospect hot on his heels, their guns at the ready. At the end of the hall, a Raptor prospect came barreling toward them with his weapon drawn.

  Lightning fast, Pretty B
oy drove the kid up against the wall and clocked him with the butt of his gun—knocking him out before he could even call for help.

  It was the prospect’s call, and it suited Duke fine. The less damage they did on this operation, the less blowback the club would get. No need to kill if it could be helped. Besides, the Raptor prospect was a snot-nosed kid. Not much of a threat.

  As they rounded a corner, they saw Shep duct-taping another prospect to a chair. The VP glanced up. “Place is secure.”

  “The brothers are gonna hunt you bastards down. We’ll kill all of you, mother—”

  Shep socked the little shit in the mouth. “Remember how I decided not to kill you? I will if you don’t keep your mouth shut.”

  The kid shut his trap, and Shep promptly duct-taped it.

  Duke noticed a blood stain on his shoulder. “You get hit, man? My med supplies are in the saddlebag.”

  “Nah. He grazed me,” Shep shrugged.

  Pretty Boy and Shep stood there staring at each other, and Duke swore they were having some sort of silent conversation. Whatever the fuck they said, it seemed to be serious, judging by their twin set of grim mugs.

  Suddenly, a scream upstairs raised the hairs on the back of Duke’s neck. It was a woman, and she sounded like she was in agony. Pretty Boy was already halfway up the steel stairs, taking them two at a time.

  Shep turned to Duke. “You got this? I gotta call Captain, let him know how it went down.”

  “Yeah, I’m on it.” Duke followed Pretty Boy, weapon drawn.

  At the end of the hallway, the yells got louder. Duke stared grimly at the solid oak door between them and the screams.

  “Well, this is gonna be fun to kick down.”

  He raised his fingers to count it down, but the prospect dropped to his knees. Pretty Boy had two thin pieces of metal working furiously in the lock. With a soft pop, the lock unlatched, and the door swung open a second later.

  “You're more useful than you look,” Duke muttered as Pretty Boy charged in ahead of him.

  In the dingy room, they found a middle-aged man behind a woman strung up by her arms to a ceiling beam. She had angry purplish cigarette burns along the entire length of her body. A sadistic bastard held a lit Marlboro in his hand and had a fucking tent pole in his pants.

  “Find another girl. This one's mine.” He held the lit cigarette just under her eye.

  “I wouldn't do that, if I were you.” Pretty Boy had an evil gleam in his eye.

  Duke raised his gun and leveled it at the guy's crotch. “Yeah, what he said.”

  “Holy shit.” The man dropped the smoke and jumped back at the sight of Duke's gun, probably two seconds from pissing himself. “Who the hell are you?”

  “The fucking cavalry, asshole.” Duke cocked his piece, ready to pump two shots into this douche, execution style, for being a sick bastard, but he must’ve been too slow on the draw.

  Pretty Boy darted around the woman and snaked his arm around the guy's neck, twisting him into a choke hold secure enough to make any black ops soldier proud.

  He shoved the guy to his knees and scooped the still lit cigarette off the floor.

  “You get off on pain, huh?”

  “Who… the… fuck….” The man turned tomato red, desperately clawing at Pretty Boy's arm as he tried to suck in air.

  The prospect shoved the cigarette against the guy's panting tongue and slapped his mouth shut. Then he threw him to the ground, planted two knees in his gut, and started wailing on him.

  “How'd you like pain now, buttercup? Huh? You know you like it.”

  Duke was about to break it up. But what the hell? Dickhead was a sick twist anyway, he’d earned a good beating. And if he died, it’d save Duke the ammo.

  Besides, Pretty Boy seemed to be enjoying himself.

  He turned to the woman, who was shuddering, eyes closed.

  “We won’t hurt you—we’re gonna get you outta this hellhole.”

  Duke kept his movements slow, so he didn’t spook her. He pulled a blanket off the filthy bed and found the keys to her shackles on the nightstand. Duke unlocked her manacles and wrapped her up.

  She sat on the bed, put her head in her hands, and refused to look at either of them.

  He reached for her arm, to examine the burn marks, but she shrunk from his touch. Duke would try again after she calmed down a bit.

  The man beneath Pretty Boy wasn't fighting anymore. His body had gone slack, his painful cries stopped.

  The prospect was bloody, still hitting.

  “Pretty Boy!”

  No response.

  “It's over, man.”

  He kept on hitting.

  With a heartfelt internal sigh, Duke grabbed Pretty Boy's shoulder, intent on hauling the prospect off the guy and checking for a pulse.

  “Kid, it's over.”

  Pretty Boy turned like a caged animal and slammed his raw knuckles into Duke's face.

  Duke retaliated, clocking Pretty Boy in the jaw with a ground out, “What the fuck?”

  “It's over when I say it’s over.”

  Pretty Boy's face sharpened with sheer hatred as he turned his back on Duke, set one hand on the perv’s chin, tucked the other under his skull, and twisted until his neck snapped.

  “Now it's over.”

  Shakily, he slid off the john, looking like a fucking serial killer from all the blood and… other fluids covering his clothes.

  Duke tilted his head and raised a brow.

  Pretty Boy grinned—fucking grinned—and said, “he's dead, Jim.”

  “What the hell was that?”

  Pretty Boy stared at the dead man, blinking. Then he fixed Duke with a sneer. “Some people like beatin’ on the weak—they get off on hurtin’ smaller people. Me–I get off on hurtin’ people like him, people bigger than me.” His gaze pointedly traveled over the extra half of foot of width and breadth Duke had on him.

  Duke so didn't have time for this psycho shit.

  While he took pleasure in his position as an enforcer with the club, he had a clean and calculated approach. Duke utilized his rage to do what needed to be done, but he wasn’t controlled by it.

  “Get your ass down to Shepherd,” he said tiredly. “I’m sure he has somethin’ for you to do besides makin’ jam out of creepers.”

  Rolling his eyes, the prospect stalked out, leaving Duke to coax the woman into letting him clean her wounds.

  When all was said and done, the Horsemen seized at least a half a million, but they didn’t count it, and a shit ton of drugs which they intended to flush, except for the weed. They smashed all the video equipment they could get their hands on, including the CCTV. Coyote grabbed the client list as well as the camera feed files.

  The brothers released all the women. Duke handed them all big fistfuls of cash as they left. The prospects were going to take some of them to the hospital, others to the bus station, and they’d made them all promise to keep this quiet.

  All things considered, it’d been a smooth operation. While Duke didn’t have a problem shutting it down, he did worry about the blowback on the club. The Raptors would retaliate.

  It was coming. Everyone knew it, but they didn’t say anything. Sooner or later, the Raptors would come after the Horsemen, and it wouldn’t be pretty when they did.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Come at me,” Rose said, waving Duke towards her with a hand.

  It was late at night, and Duke had gone on some sort of Horsemen mission earlier in the day. He’d been vague about what he’d been up to, and Duke had been in a crappy mood when she walked in, but she’d managed to coax him into a better one with some teasing.

  Rose was feeling self-assured about her new defense skills. They’d been practicing for weeks, and she was getting more and more comfortable defending herself.

  He lifted a brow. “Feeling cocky, are we?”

  “Oh, yes, we are. Now, come on—let’s do this.”

  “We’re gonna mix it up this time. You�
��ve been fendin’ off hand-to-hand attacks. What about doing one with a weapon?” Duke grabbed a knife, which was still sheathed. “We’ll use this as a prop because I don’t want to accidently cut you.”

  She glanced at the glinting steel nervously but then realized her uneasiness was probably a good thing. Getting comfortable in their routine would only lead to overconfidence. Rose couldn’t afford to let her guard down.

  Duke stood behind her, and she wanted to whirl and face him more than anything but she couldn’t. She needed to wait for the attack.

  It came soon enough.

  Duke seized her and brought the knife to her throat. “Always be aware. Don’t give him the opportunity to slit your throat. Look for a distraction and do whatever you have to. Talk to him, point out a passing car—anything to split his focus.”

  “Okay.”

  “Next, stomp on his foot or crack your head against his—break his hold on you. Once he does, make tracks out of there.”

  Duke walked through the process several times until she managed to get the jump on him.

  After an hour of fighting, they sprawled out on the yoga mats, staring up at the ceiling, bodies sweaty and sore—both of them were nearing exhaustion. The room was shadowed because the sun had set, and they hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights when they sparred. She pulled one arm against her chest, stretching her muscles, trying to work the kinks out of them.

  “Are you ready to tell me yet?”

  She didn’t have to ask what he meant. Duke wanted to know more about her ordeal with Kent.

  “I don’t know.”

  “I ain’t sayin’ you have to tell someone because you don’t have to. At the end of the day, it’s your own fucking business—but it might help. If not me, at least your sister.”

  The thought of telling someone all of those awful things...well, she didn’t want to give anyone those kinds of nightmarish visions. Not everyone could handle what she’d been through.

  “I gave Daisy a vague idea, and she saw some of it on her own when Kent kidnapped her. When she pressed me for details, I couldn’t go there with her. It’s hard to explain to someone who hasn’t been through it.”