by Rye Hart
The look in his eyes made my skin crawl and I whimpered, backing away from him, trying to put as much distance between us as possible. He grabbed my collar and yanked me closer. I yelped as my shirt slid up and the rough concrete wall scratched my back, leaving angry, pulsating red marks behind.
“You’re worth more than you think gorgeous,” he purred. “We’re going to take you to some nice Russian men and they’re going to put you in a storage container with a bunch of other pretty, naked girls. Then they’re going to sail you across the ocean and sell you to someone who will put you to work in a brothel. You’ll work and work until you’re used up and then they’ll either put a bullet in your head or put you to work in a sweatshop.”
He was grinning at me now and I was doing my best to stay strong, but I knew I was shivering and I knew my bottom lip was shaking. I was scared and there was no way around it. I was fucking terrified.
“I figure they’ll be more than willing to pay about a quarter of a million for you. Maybe a little more,” he smirked and ran his fingers along my cheek. “You’re so young and supple.”
A sudden rage lit up inside of me. My fate was sealed no matter what I did and I knew Coyote wouldn’t kill me. I was worth too much alive. You couldn’t sell a corpse into sex slavery. As he caressed my cheek I turned my head and sunk my teeth into his hand. He yowled in pain and yanked his hand away, holding the bleeding appendage and staring at it in shock.
I spit out the blood that had coated my teeth and tongue when I bit into the soft flesh, glaring at him with a certain determination. “I’m not going to make this easy for you,” I whispered between gritted teeth.
“You little cunt!” he reached out and grabbed me, his meaty hands wrapping around my throat.
I gasped as I was lifted off the ground, my airway suddenly closed off completely in his strong grasp. My eyes rolled back and I whimpered as I felt my vision starting to fade. My sight was reduced to a narrow tunnel and blood rushed into my ears. I could hear my own heartbeat as I gasped uselessly for breath. There was no air getting to my lungs and they were starting to burn with a desperation I’d never felt before.
The world began to slip from my grasp, but even as I thought I was dying, there was only really one thought going through my head. Dying would be better than being sold into slavery. This seemed like a more tolerable end.
Chapter Twenty
I felt as if I’d slipped into a deep sleep. I was floating, warm and safe. I sighed softly and as I allowed my eyes to flutter open I looked around and saw that I was on a beach. How the hell was I on the beach? Had the whole ordeal just been a vivid nightmare?
As I turned my head I saw Dylan wading in the clear water, his arms outstretched for me. I stood, enjoying the feel of the warm sand between my toes as I ran towards him, wanting to feel his embrace. I wanted to feel the safety of his arms around me.
I stumbled into the water, nearly falling flat on my face as I threw myself into his arms. He held me close, pulling me to his chest and kissing the top of my head. Tears were streaming down my face and I looked up at him, reaching up to touch his tanned cheeks.
“Oh God, Dylan, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” I whispered, staring into his handsome face.
“I’m right here darling,” he said tenderly, pulling me close.
I could hear his heart beating and it made me sob with joy. “You’re here, you’re really here. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for before. I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m sorry I walked away and went with them, but I was so scared! I couldn’t let you die!” my words were spilling out in a stream.
He stroked my hair and kissed me tenderly. “Shhh, it’s okay, Alex. I know why you did it. I don’t blame you,” he whispered, pushing me gently away.
I looked up at him, my lips trembling. There was so much I wanted to say to him, but I couldn’t get it out. He stroked my hair out of my face. “I need you to promise me one thing,” he said.
“What is it?”
“Promise me you won’t give up.”
I was confused by his words and gasped as he grabbed me and pushed me under the water. Darkness enveloped me and confusion clouded my mind. I drifted into the dark abyss, wondering if this was death.
Suddenly my eyes flew open and I was staring up at the bright morning sky. I was in the bed of a pickup truck, though I could hear motorcycles roaring on either side of me. My throat hurt and the pain brought back the memory of being lifted off the ground, an impossibly strong hand wrapped around my neck. I groaned and rolled over onto my side, looking around.
The land was green and the hills stretched out as far as I could see. I figured we were still in Tennessee, but I had no idea where. I forced myself to sit up, groaning at the effort it took. I managed to steady myself as the truck bounced on the road, looking around to see bikers surrounding the truck as if they were protecting it.
I frowned, starting to feel a surge of hopelessness all over again. I didn’t think I was going to get out of this one. As I started to lose myself in thought, the truck jolted forward and I gasped, grabbing the side to keep myself upright.
The truck rolled to a stop and so did the bikes. Coyote hopped out of the truck, cursing loudly and kicking the flat tire. He leaned down to inspect it and the moment he ducked down, bullets started flying. Within moments, most of the gang lie dead beside their bikes, perfectly placed shots between their eyes.
Coyote jumped into action, his eyes wide as he tried to figure out what was going on. A stray bullet hit the back window of the truck and the glass shattered into pieces. I quickly grabbed one of the larger pieces, hiding it in my sleeve, easily ignoring the way it cut into my skin. That was nothing compared to what I’d been through.
I was thinking about making a run for it when Coyote grabbed me and pulled me out of the bed of the truck, a gun held to my temple. “COME OUT! SHOW YOURSELVES RIGHT NOW!” he screamed.
Dylan and the rest of the gang rose from the valley between two hills, wearing camouflage and ghillie suits. My eyes widened and my breath hitched. He’d come for me. Dylan grinned and threw his hands out.
“Did you think you were going to get rid of us that easily?” he asked, starting to close the distance between himself and Coyote.
“You stay back!” Coyote’s voice was starting to shake and despite the fact that he had a gun at my temple, I found it oddly satisfying that he was so shaken.
“Put the gun down, Coyote. You’re out numbered. I have three snipers trained on you. They had the command to shoot at will and if you harm a hair on her head, you’ll be full of holes. If you hand her over now, we’ll let you live.”
I realized I was in a very precarious situation and the last thing I wanted to do was put myself or Dylan in any more danger. I stayed dead still, my eyes trained on Dylan.
“You’re lying. If you really had snipers, I’d be dead already,” Coyote growled, starting to walk me back towards the cab of the truck.
Dylan’s eyes were trained on me. He was watching me closely, trying to comfort me with his gaze. “Give it up, Coyote. You lost this round. Give her to me and you have my word, I’ll let you live,” Dylan said dangerously.
“Like hell I will. You just gave me more incentive to get her to the meeting place. You took down all my men. That just means I don’t need to share the money.”
I felt my desperation grow as I realized Coyote had nothing left to lose. As we got closer and closer to the truck, I felt my heart beating faster and faster. Dylan knew he was playing with fire and I could see the desperation in his eyes. He just wanted to pull the trigger and take Coyote out, but that would risk my life.
The shard of glass in my sleeve cut into my hand, reminding me it was there. I swallowed, remembering Dylan’s words from my dream.
‘Promise me you won’t give up.’
I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the worst. Finally, I pulled away and jabbed the shard of glass between Coyote’s legs, managing to hit him in the crotch. H
e let out an animalistic scream of pain and I twisted out of his grip and grabbed his gun.
Everything became a blur. I brought the gun down on his head hard, using it as a makeshift club. He hit the ground, clearly having lost consciousness. I stared down at his still body, shaking and wide-eyed.
Dylan ran over to me and threw his arms around me, pulling me close and tucking me against his chest. I shook and dropped the gun in favor of wrapping my arms around him.
“You came.” I whispered.
“Of course I did. Jesus, you were so amazing, Alex!”
I laughed shakily and shook my head. “I just had to see you again. There’s something I knew I had to tell you and I wasn’t going to die before I got to say it.”
“What is it?” he panted, looking down at me.
Tears welled in my eyes and I cupped his face with shaking hands. “I love you, Dylan.”
His eyes widened but he pulled me closer, pressing his lips to mine in a show of passion. When he finally broke away, he smiled down at me and whispered the words I so desperately wanted to hear.
“I love you more than you could ever know.”
Epilogue
We ended up leaving Coyote there. Dylan’s men quickly captured him and zip tied his ankles and wrists before putting in an anonymous call to the cops. It wasn’t like they were going to wholeheartedly investigate the slaughter of a violent biker gang. They ended up ruling that it had been caused by a dispute over drugs or money and closed the case without much event.
Dylan took me home after that and I was rather thankful that he didn’t lecture or ask too many questions. I didn’t want to tell him the things Coyote had told me. They were awful and I didn’t even want to repeat them and I was afraid that Dylan would commit murder the next time he saw Coyote.
After that incident we were happy. I experienced what true happiness was like. We lived together in Nashville and I eventually introduced Dylan to my mother. She fell in love with him instantly and I couldn’t have been happier. I grew closer to my mother as an adult. She asked me about dad on occasion, but I just told her I didn’t know and that was the truth. I had no idea what happened to my dad. After everything he’d put me through, I wasn’t really interested in maintaining a relationship with him.
Soon after the kidnapping incident, I decided to go to school for social work. The threat of being sold into human trafficking had woken something up inside of me. I never wanted anyone to face the horrors that had been described to me, so I made it my life goal to help others in that situation. I hoped to eliminate human trafficking completely. It might have been a lofty goal, but it was what I wanted and I wasn’t going to stop.
Even though I decided to go back to school to help people, the gang was a part of who I was now. I told him I wanted to be a part of it and I meant it. The day after Coyote was arrested I went to Dylan’s tattoo artist and I got the scales tattooed on my shoulder. I was marked as his for the rest of my life and I’d never regret it.
Dylan and I are expecting our first child. We were married the previous spring and life couldn’t be better. If anyone had told me a year ago that my happily ever after would include the leader of an outlaw biker gang, I’d have told them they were nuts. But here I was. Dylan was my world and I was his. I finally had my fairy tale ending.
The End
Second Chances
Chapter One
Biker gangs. What comes to your mind when you hear ‘biker gangs’? I bet I can guess: Wild sex, drugs, guns, and violence, right? Well, maybe that’s how most people see it, but it’s a little different when you grow up around them.
My name is Kisha Monroe and I am a child of one of America’s largest biker gangs. Most people assume that biker gangs are out for trouble. Movie scenes of kidnappings and dangerous drug transactions flash before their eyes.
Now, don’t get me wrong, a lot of them are filled with sick, demented bastards ready to screw, shot and pound on anything moving, but some of us consist of a descent group of human beings, made to be tough by our environment.
My father was an amazing man. His name was Brian and he raised my brother and me to be strong leaders because he knew that one day we would take over the gang. Damien is my older brother, and since he was the oldest he took over leadership of the gang, but that didn’t mean I was sidelined and left to do nothing.
Ever since I was a little girl I’d been fascinated with the weapons my dad kept around the house. I started going to the shooting range when I was ten and had my first knife collection by the time I was thirteen. My dad never stopped me either. He thought my interest in the weapons was a useful skill to have and so he let me go about my business with little to no interruption.
Just because we were trying to do good for our community, didn’t mean we had no business being violent. Weapons and fighting were a necessity. Whoever said ‘violence is never the answer’ has obviously never dealt with a guy whose been beating his wife and kids every day for the past ten years, or a rival gang trying to take over their territory.
The world isn’t sunshine and butterflies and the sooner people figure that out, the better off they’re going to be. The thing people often ask us is “why didn’t you call the cops?” Well because sometimes the cops can’t do anything.
We have a silent agreement with the police in Nashville. We keep things quiet, don’t draw too much attention to ourselves, and we can take out the trash without any interference from them. We help the cops by dealing with the shit they don’t have time to deal with. It’s a pretty good system. They turn a blind eye to our activities and we clean up the town.
And of course shit hits the fan. I’ve had to learn to take a few major punches over the years. The worst being a blow that hit me before I even turned eighteen. My father was killed by a rival gang soon after my seventeenth birthday. My brother was twenty-one at the time and took over the gang seamlessly. He didn’t think twice about it because he didn’t have a choice. Gangs are a lot like the military. There’s a strict order to things and without someone in charge, everything tends to fall apart. So Damien became the leader.
What about me? Well, I was put in charge of all the training and weapons. I didn’t mind. Leading the gang never had any appeal to me. I was a fairly quiet person and I liked keeping to myself. Many of the men in the gang were terrified of my silence, and I was told a few times that I was intimidating. My steel eyes and jet black hair gave me an intense look and my petite stature was deceiving. I was quick on my feet and good with heavy artillery. I had been one of the snipers when Damien’s girlfriend (now wife) was kidnapped.
My intensity and silence led to a rather lonely life. People stayed clear of me and I didn’t really interact with too many folks outside the gang. Did I mention everyone in the gang seemed to be scared of me? There was only one man who seemed brave enough to interact with me. Ryan.
Ryan had been my best friend when we were kids. He was tall, blonde, and beautiful. His full lips and emerald eyes made me weak in the knees, though I would never admit it out loud. I always saw my attraction to Ryan as a weakness. He made me stumble on my words and drop my knives. I could have taken anyone in this damn gang, but Ryan got to me.
We stopped being friends around the time my dad died. It hurt that someone I was so close to would abandon me at such a critical point of my life; I felt betrayed. He started flirting with the other girls in the gang and didn’t say a word to me after my dad’s death. He would toss me the occasional sideways glance but it always seemed to be more wary than a look that acknowledged someone. I hated that look. I hated that he looked at me like I was a snake in the grass. It fucking pissed me off.
Despite the fact that everyone around me seemed to think I was a stone cold bitch who never wanted to be around anyone, I had the same desires as any other woman. I wanted a family and children, and I wanted to be in love. Even though I fought those emotions on occasion, I knew that at the end of the day, I wanted what every other woman in the world wan
ted.
When Damien met Chloe and they had their first baby, those desires became even stronger. I wanted what they had and watching them achieving their dreams was making my biological clock tick. Even though I was only twenty-one, I felt like my time was running out and I didn’t like that feeling.
Instead of confronting it head on and trying to talk to Ryan about everything that had been going on, I kept to myself, kept to my guns, and buried myself in work. I decided that I was just going to forget him and I was going to forget about those stupid wants and needs that were nagging at the back of my brain. I was just going to become the best damn fighter this gang had ever seen.
Chapter Two
The truck rumbled loudly and I guessed it probably needed an oil change. I had a bike like every other member of the gang, but when I traveled with other people and with my guns, it was easier to take a truck. I could take multiple weapons without risking safety, and also Chloe was with me today.
When she first joined the gang I was rather cold to her. I was jealous of her beautiful blonde hair and smooth skin. My own arms and legs were marred with scaring; it was just something that happened when you grew up in a biker gang. When I was younger I would scuffle with the boys and wrestle with them, wanting to prove that I was just as strong as they were. It continued on into my teenage years and between the fighting training and roughhousing, I was left with scars that marked my pale skin.
When I looked at Chloe even now, that jealousy had a tendency to crop up occasionally, but I managed to push it down far enough that we were able to become good friends. I liked spending time with Chloe. She was a good woman and a good mom. Plus, she made my brother happy and that’s always a great way to get on my good side.
As we came to a stop in the parking lot of the shooting range, I glanced over at her and hummed. “Is Damien watching Mariana?”