We all pulled out in a tight formation and roared off into the night. Even though Snow, as prez, would usually be in lead, Hacker was this time due to the tracking program he had running. By this time, we were heading down toward Spencer when Hacker motioned we were turning off the highway soon. The gravel roads meant we had to slow down. When Hacker motioned for us to stop, I was pissed.
What the fuck now?
“Damn, I think they ditched her phone,” he exclaimed. I watched helplessly as Hacker worked furiously with his phone. My heart felt like it had been ripped out while it was still beating, the pain was so great.
“What happened? What do you mean you think they ditched it?” My frustration was building, and I was starting to come unraveled again.
“I mean, it’s showing her phone is right here.” He motioned toward the ditch. “They had to have thrown it out,” he said as he scanned the ditch with a high-powered flashlight. “Either they found the tracking program, which I doubt, because it was embedded pretty deep and saved to look like it was just a random background program running, or they were just being cautious. There is nothing out this way except for a few old farms and fields. Bro, I’m sorry.” Hacker looked like I felt. It wasn’t often he was bested. This was damn near Steph’s situation on repeat, and I knew how that had played out. My nausea circled and churned in my gut.
“Fuck!”
We all got off our bikes and walked the ditch in search of Becca’s phone. Not that it would do us much good, but maybe Hacker could get something off it. He had done some kind of CSI shit in the Marines with the Force Recon. Searching the overgrown grass for a cell phone felt like the proverbial needle in a haystack search.
“Hey! I think I got it!” Soap yelled out. He used his bandana to scoop it up before he came running over to Hacker with it. Hacker stowed it in one of his saddlebags to go through it when we got back to the clubhouse.
“Since we’re out here, let’s check out the farms along here to see if they’re using one as a home base or a place to keep her. We can’t all go, because all these bikes would sound like the sky is raining down. Soap, your bike is the quietest since you’re running stock, so I want you to ride past the few farmsteads along this road. If you notice anything, keep moving and call us when you get to the end of the road.” In a different time, I would have laughed at the slam to Soap’s bike; at that time, I just wanted to get going. Snow returned to his bike. “All right, we wait here until we hear from Soap.”
More fucking waiting. Dammit.
When my phone started ringing, I was pissed. Who the fuck is calling me? I did not have time for stupid bullshit right now.
Digging my phone out of the inside pocket of my cut, I saw it was a restricted call. My eyes met every brother standing around before I answered the call.
“Yeah?”
“Is this ‘Sexy-Ass Mason’?” a snide, gravelly voice asked me.
“This is Mason. Who the fuck is this?” Right away, I knew this had something to do with those fuckers who had Becca. I knew I needed to keep my cool because I didn’t want to give anything away in my temper.
“We have something that belongs to you. Listen carefully, because I won’t repeat myself. Get in contact with the Demented Sons MC and tell them we have your hot little number… you know… a certain pretty little redheaded dancer… and if they don’t want to keep losing their little dancers, they’ll meet us unarmed at a time and an address I will text to you in the morning. If you value your woman, you will convince them to be there. If they don’t show up, it won’t be just dancers they start losing.” He laughed before the line went dead.
“Stupid motherfucker doesn’t know who he has. They think they have one of the dancers. They want me to ‘get in contact with the Demented Sons MC’ and tell them to meet them unarmed at a location and time they will text me in the morning. If we don’t show, they said it won’t just be dancers we start losing.” My expression wavered between angry and bleak, my fists clenched in rage. For a moment, everyone was silent before Snow spoke up.
“All right, Soap, get moving. As soon as he scopes out this road, brothers, let’s head back toward home. Get your families and get to the clubhouse ASAP. We’re on lockdown until we find the sonofabitches. You got me?” Grimly, everyone nodded.
Soap took off down the road, his taillights blinking out when he shut down his lights to decrease his visibility. It wasn’t long before Snow’s phone rang, and he looked at me shaking his head. We mounted up and headed back toward home, frustrated and on edge. It killed me to turn my back and not search every road in the county in an attempt to find them tonight, but I knew I wasn’t thinking rationally. So, I followed Reaper to his house since there was nothing for me at mine. Just the thought made me want to explode. Made me want to scream into the dark night sky. Made me want to rip my own heart from my chest to alleviate the retching pain crushing it.
Reaper woke Steph and told her to get Remi, Wyatt, and enough stuff for a few days. Steph looked at him in concern as she quickly carried Wyatt and his car seat out from the back bedroom. He carried a sleeping Remi, and I took the packed bag from him to carry it out to their SUV. Steph looked at me after securing the babies, and her question took me out at the knees.
“Where’s Becca, Hollywood?” her soft voice whispered with blue eyes full of worry.
Grabbing my hair in both fists, I turned away before I completely lost it. Panted breaths rasped from my lungs as I struggled to breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Just fucking breathe.
Gasping, heart shredded, I faintly registered Reaper speaking to Steph in a low tone. My eyes sought the bright stars as I fought to keep my sob at bay—a desperate, aching sob that I was afraid would mirror the one I heard slip from Steph.
Jesus, I don’t fucking cry.
Please, God, if you’re listening, please bring my baby back to me safe. I fucking need her.
GOD, MY HEAD IS pounding. I feel like I sucked on cotton balls all night, too. My eyes don’t want to focus, and my bed feels like it’s hard as concrete this morning. When I try to roll over, my limbs are so heavy I can barely move. There’s a bright-ass light shining right in my eyes, making it hard to find where my pillow went. My arm is like a lead weight when I move to throw it over my blinded eyes. Why don’t I remember drinking last night? Man, I must have been trashed to be this hungover. Sleep. Sleep sounds so damn good…
Waking with a start, I realized I must have dozed off again. Shit. Oh God, my stomach roiled, and I felt like I was going to puke. My quivering arms finally supported me enough to rise to a sitting position, and I pushed my tangled hair out of my face.
What the fuck?
As my eyes slowly began to focus and take in my surroundings, my heart jumped into my throat and tried to choke me.
Where the hell am I and how did I get here?
Looking around, I realized I was obviously in a small basement room because there was a little window high in the wall, and other than that, the room consisted of four cinder-block walls, a single metal door, and a concrete floor with a drain in the center.
Panic welled inside me and alarm bells were resonating in my head. My memories were vague, and I grabbed my head as if I could hold onto those elusive memories and get my head to quit spinning.
Slowly, flashes started to sift through my mind.
A strip club, Mason, Reaper, the redheaded skank, rushing outside, and a van…
Holy Mary, mother of God…
Shit, I had been tackled and thrown into a van. My head was still pounding and the most revolting taste was stuck to my tongue. Sickly sweet. Rancid. My eyes flashed to the small window.
Was it last night? How long had I been lying here? Where the hell am I?
My bladder felt like it was going to explode, and in a panic, my hand hovered over my belly.
Oh shit, what did they drug me with? Please God, don’t let it have hurt my little peanut…
M
y bladder near to bursting, I couldn’t hold it anymore, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to sit here and piss myself, so I crawled on quivering arms and legs to the drain. Geez, I felt like a newborn colt! Please don’t let anyone walk in while I’m in this ridiculous position. Squatting over a nasty drain cover on a floor to piss was not where I ever in a million years saw myself, but necessity ruled in that moment.
Great, no fricking toilet paper in my palatial accommodations.
In a desperate attempt to prevent my anxiety and terror from taking over, I tried to latch onto anger and sarcasm. Staying calm was essential, I knew, but I was struggling. Bad.
Shit, the napkins… Pulling the wad of napkins out, I counted them. There were five. They were the small ones like you put drinks on, but if I opened it up, it would work, and I could ration them out for a little bit. My brain blocked out the thoughts of how long I may or may not be here and why I was here. The used one got tossed in the corner furthest from me. Jesus, it didn’t escape me that I was rationing napkins for pissing. What the fuck?
Crawling back to the corner furthest from the door, I sat with my arms wrapped around my legs, my knees pulled up tight to my chest. Dear God, help me. Mason, anyone, please be looking for me and find me soon.
My throat tightened, and my heart pounded like it may burst. I’d watched too many fucking scary movies and knew the girl never made it out of crap like this unscathed. Sometimes she didn’t make it at all… Please, God, I don’t want to die, ran on repeat through my brain as I sat there thinking about all of the things I had to live for, and my baby, tiny and nestled in my abdomen, was at the top of the list. Mason didn’t even know he was going to be a daddy.
Maybe he wouldn’t even look for me. I really thought he loved me, but now I wasn’t sure. Was I deluding myself? How could he love me but be at a strip joint with sleazy skanks climbing all over him? My rational side told me there had to be more to what I saw, but my hormonal, irrational, hurt side was angry and spiteful.
Guess I dozed off again, leaning against the wall with my forehead on my knees, because I woke with my neck was killing me from the awkward angle. The direction of the light had changed, so a few hours must have passed by. My mouth was still so dry, and I was hungry. Really freaking hungry.
When the doorknob rattled, I was instantly alert. The door opened slowly, and a lanky man with greasy hair and filthy looking jeans walked in. The dirty leather vest he wore had a patch that read “Rat,” and I thought how fitting that name was with his beady eyes, pointed nose, and weak-looking, set-back chin. Though I didn’t want to, my eyes met his, and I tried not to show fear, even though I was sure he could smell it coming off me in waves.
“Well, lookee here, you’re awake. I was hoping to have a little fun with you, but I was told to just check on you and bring you some food and water.” He walked closer and crouched in front of me. Gross… his teeth were nasty and his breath was worse. Violently, my stomach rebelled at the smell emanating from him, and I prayed I didn’t hurl in his face. Without warning, his hand shot out, grabbing my breast and twisting painfully. Despite my attempt to maintain a cool façade, I cried out in pain.
“Those are some nice titties. Mmm, yeah, I can’t wait to have a round with you. We need those Demented Assholes to show up so we can kill them all. Man, I sure hope you don’t get caught in the crossfire, ’cause I want to bury myself in you something fierce after they’re dead. Maybe, if you’re lucky, they’ll let me claim you as mine.”
Lucky? Yeah, not so much, you delusional asshole.
When he reached out to touch my hair, my cringe was involuntary, and he laughed as he stood up. My gag reflex was working overtime as he stroked his dick through his pants then readjusted it before walking to the door. He reached outside the door and threw a bottle of water and a gas-station-style sandwich at me.
The dirty patch on the back of his leather vest as he walked away read “Nomads” under a patch with some kind of ugly creature with red eyes and fangs and “Demon Runners” above it. I filed that away, trying to remember every detail I could in case I lived through this and was able to tell the police.
Right now, the odds of that seem really, really shitty…
“Rat, cut your shit out. Get upstairs before I gut your nasty, greasy ass. Go take a damn shower, for fuck’s sake.” If I thought fear rolled off me with Rat, I felt sheer terror rise in me at the man who walked into the waning light coming from the small window. Not because he was scarred or ugly, but because this man had dark, cold, dead eyes. His hair was slicked back and held in a ponytail. If it weren’t for his eyes, he would have actually been a good-looking guy, but those black eyes were just plain flat and emotionless. His threat to Rat seemed extremely plausible, and I believed he would do it with relish, not remorse.
Fine tremors skated down my spine as he ambled to me, and I glanced to the open door, weighing the chances of making it past him and out the door before he could catch me. When I looked back to him, he had a feral grin as he narrowed his eyes at me.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” My eyes widened slightly at the thought that he could read my mind.
“What’s your name, Red?” God, I hated that he called me that after Mason and his club called me that with affection.
Fucking asshole.
My gaze continued to meet his, but I remained mute.
Quick as lightning, his hand reached out to grab my jaw in a punishing grip, bringing immediate tears to my eyes. Blinking to hold them at bay, I tried desperately not to let them fall.
“Answer me, before I break this delicate little jaw.” Jesus, he was crazy, but I believed him. Of course, just because I believed him, didn’t mean I was giving in easy. I’d always been too damn stubborn for my own good, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think they were going to actually let me go after this.
“Fuck you,” I spat through the pain. His other hand shot out and backhanded me, knocking my head back against the wall. Fuck, the pounding in my head reached epic proportions, and a warm sensation trickled down my face, so I was pretty sure his ring had done some damage to my cheek. Dickhead. Without warning, he grabbed my hair in his fist, jerking my head so my face was mere inches from his.
“You think I care that you have tits and a pussy? I really don’t. I tried to ask you nicely, didn’t I? Now, what… is… your… name? So I can make sure those Demented Pussies know which one of their little dancers we have.” He took his finger and caught the blood trickling down my cheek. When he put his finger in his mouth and sucked my blood off, my stomach cramped and heaved. My lips pressed together in defiance, despite my rising fear of what he may do to me.
“Stupid bitch.” His soft-spoken tone were in blatant contrast to the words themselves.
My fear was well placed as he punched me in the face, and my eye instantly began to swell shut. He was so fast, I didn’t even see it coming.
Holy shit.
My head was now throbbing at a vicious pace, and I truly believed he was actually ripping my hair from my head, his grip was so tight. Though I desperately tried to block it, his next punch still caught my lip, and I tasted the metallic evidence of the damage before he punched me again and again. Black dots danced in my vision, and if he hadn’t been holding me up by my hair, I was pretty sure I would have collapsed in a boneless heap.
When he grabbed the front of my shirt in his meaty, bloody fist and ripped it straight down, I felt cool air hit my stomach. Pure instinct had my hands attempting to cover myself and protect my defenseless baby.
With a jerk, my legs were pulled out straight by the ankle until I slid down the wall and my head hit the floor. As he braced his foot on my chest to hold me down, he began to pull my boots off. Sheer desperation had me trying to kick out and fight him, but I could barely breathe with the pressure he was exerting on my chest. Hands clawing at his boot in an attempt to allow expansion for my lungs, I felt hysteria creeping in.
God, I’m going to suffocate.
Panic built like a tsunami in me, and I felt sure he had cracked some of my ribs by this time. He knelt down, replacing the boot on my chest with his knee, and then easily unbuttoned my jeans and ripped them off.
Jesus God, help me. Tears coursed down my cheeks, my sobs stuck in my chest.
Cruelly, his hand seized me by the pubic bone, pushing my underwear down before his fingers shoved into me. Fuck, it hurt so fricking bad. If I could have screamed, I would have, but I couldn’t even breathe! Tears continued to leak from the corners of my eyes as he jerked my panties down further to midthigh.
Please no…
“This would be all you’re good for, but I don’t like dry, cold bitches.” His fingers pulled out and shoved painfully into me once more before he finally decided he was done with me.
There I lay on the floor, gasping to regain my breath after he removed his knee from my chest. My ribs hurt with each expansion. A big fist gripped my hair again, and a whimper slipped from my cracked and bleeding lips. Effortlessly, he lifted me off the floor by my hair until I was close to his emotionless face.
“Don’t worry, that’s not a problem we can’t fix. They can try to identify your body when we’re done with you. It makes no difference to me. I’ll be back, and you better hope I’ve heard from them, or you get to suffer for their stupidity. As it is, your boyfriend will see what his little stripper girlfriend looks like now.” When he released my hair, I fell over and he kicked me in the thigh. Vaguely, I heard a clicking sound and looked up with my one barely open eye to see he had a phone out and he was taking pictures of me.
Stripper? What the hell? Does he really think I am one of the strippers from that place? Jesus. And my boyfriend? Shit, they’re sending these to Mason. Oh, God. If they have his number, then I guess that answers what happened to my cell phone.
Little does this asshole know, Mason probably wouldn’t even give a shit about what happened to me since it seemed everything we had was a sham. I prayed he at least looked for me for Steph’s sake, since she was his brother’s wife and my best friend, but I wasn’t holding my breath. Trembling, I watched as he walked out of the room with my pants and boots, leaving me lying on the cold concrete in my panties, bra, and torn shirt.
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