by Opal Carew
“No, Killer contacted us to say Donovan would drop the charges if she brought the necklace in.”
Steele listened with clenched fists as Rip explained about the deadline and the location to bring in the necklace.
“I don’t like it. It seems like some kind of trap.”
“Killer wouldn’t set us up like that. He’s a loyal friend.”
“I trust Killer,” Steele said. “It’s Donovan I don’t trust.”
“Relax. Killer suggested Whitehall because he has someone there he knows and trusts.”
“I won’t relax until Laurie is back with us. You said she’s in there now? How long?”
“About forty-five minutes.”
“Shit. That’s a long time to just drop off a fucking necklace.” Steele’s heart was pounding. “You gonna go in there and find out what the hell is going on?”
“Steele, it could easily take that long. They need to file their report, and it takes time to ensure that gets handled and everything is in order.”
“Which means the guy could have changed his mind and she could be sitting in jail right now.”
“I don’t believe that,” Rip said firmly. “Killer wouldn’t have offered this deal if he didn’t think he could pull it off.”
Anger and frustration rumbled through Steele. He felt helpless and that’s not a feeling he embraced.
“I’m getting on the road right now. If she isn’t out of there in ten minutes, then take the crew and get in there. Take down the walls if you have to but fucking get her out. I do not want that sadistic son of a bitch to get his hands on her again.”
“Steele,” Rip said in a calm, steady voice, “we are not going to break her out of a police station. If she is in jail, which I’m sure she’s not, then we’ll find another way to get her out. In the meantime, I’ll get on the phone to Killer and find out what’s going on. I promise you, I’ll make sure she’s safe.”
“You had fucking better,” Steele snarled, then hung up.
* * *
Rip dialed Killer’s number.
“Grainger.”
“Killer, it’s Rip.”
“Hey, calling to thank me, are you? I bet you’re glad that’s over with.”
“Yeah, I will be as soon as Laurie gets back here. That’s why I’m calling.”
“What the hell do you mean when she gets back there? Isn’t she with you now?”
“No, and she’s been in there for close to an hour. I was wondering if you knew—”
“Rip, Officer Parker contacted me over half an hour ago to tell me everything was set. She’d already left.”
Rip tightened his grip on the phone, his gut clenching. “Oh, shit.”
Steele was going to kill him. But worse, if anything happened to Laurie, especially after she’d put her trust in him, he’d never forgive himself.
* * *
Laurie stared at the back of the driver’s head as the car she was in sped through the night. Neither the driver nor the big man beside her, wearing jeans and a black knit cap, had said anything to her since they’d pulled her into the car. The man in the hat had held her mouth covered for ten minutes or more, his thick arm around her waist holding her pinned to his wiry, but strong body. Any movement she’d made had triggered him to tighten his hold, and she’d had to fight off unconsciousness, until finally she’d just rested against him. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted her screaming while they drove through the town.
Once they’d reached the highway, he’d finally released her and she’d scooted as far away from him as she could get in the limits of the backseat. Now she sat there, sucking in air while they drove.
She didn’t know how much time had passed and she wondered where they were taking her.
“Pull over,” the man beside her said to the driver.
“Why?”
“Don’t argue with me. Just do it.”
A few minutes later, the car slowed down and pulled off the highway at a rest stop. She didn’t know why they were stopping, but maybe she could get out of the car. It was late and there wasn’t a lot of traffic, but if she could make her way back to the road maybe she could flag someone down. Or slip into the bushes and hide.
The car stopped in the parking area, away from the lights. There were no other cars to be seen.
In a sudden movement, the man beside her grabbed her by the hips and slid her toward him, then shoved her back on the seat. She panicked as she saw him unfasten his jeans.
“What the fuck are you doing?” the driver asked.
“What the fuck do you think I’m doing? He said he didn’t care what shape she was in when we brought her there. If he doesn’t mind us roughing her up, then I see no reason we can’t fuck her.”
Laurie trembled, her heart racing. She tried to scramble across the seat, but he grabbed her shirt and a handful of her hair and pulled her back, then jammed his forearm across her chest, pressing down so hard she could hardly breathe.
“If you don’t want to get hurt,” he said with a snarl, “then fucking lie still.”
He climbed over her, pinning her between his knees and pressing one hand flat on her chest, holding her tight to the seat while he groped her breast with the other. She panicked, flailing and arching wildly, trying to throw him off, but he was too strong. He struck her hard across the face. Pain washed through her as she stared at him in a daze. Then he grabbed her shirt and shoved it up.
“Fuck, man. We got trouble,” the driver said.
The man on top of her glanced out the window. “What are those fucking bikers doing here?”
“Maybe they know we’ve got her.”
Hope flashed through her. Had Rip figured out the people in the black car had kidnapped her and he’d pursued them?
“Or it’s just a coincidence and they’re taking a break. This is the only rest stop for the next thirty miles.”
“Well, I’m not fucking taking a chance.” The driver started the car and backed up, then pulled onto the road.
One of Laurie’s arms was pinned between her body and the man’s knee, but she flung the other arm up, trying to reach the door handle, hoping to swing it open. Her captor grabbed her arm, squeezing it painfully.
He glared at her, his cold eyes pure evil. “Lie still or I will beat the crap out of you.”
She sucked in a breath and laid there, suffering knowing Rip and the others were only yards away, but they couldn’t help her. Because they didn’t even know she was here.
“I’m not stopping again,” the driver said. “I don’t want trouble with those motherfuckers, so just keep it in your pants, and let’s get rid of her as soon as possible.”
“Fuck, whatever.” He released her, and sneered as she sat up. “And, bitch, we’re not that stupid. The safety lock is on. You wouldn’t’ve been able to get their attention back there.”
She sat up and leaned against the door, as far from him as she could get. She didn’t even fasten her seat belt. That small safety measure would force her closer to him. She’d rather die horribly in a car accident than be an inch closer to him than she had to be.
They drove for what seemed like forever. Finally, they pulled off the highway and soon traveled along a long, winding road. Eventually, they pulled up to a big cedar house.
Her eyes widened when she saw it illuminated in the moonlight.
She recognized this house from the pictures she’d seen of Donovan’s several county houses he’d shown her one time.
Oh, God. Donovan was probably in there waiting for her.
* * *
The man in the hat opened the car door, grabbed her arm, and dragged her from the car, then shoved her toward the house.
The driver stepped beside her and both men took an arm and hurried her along the stone path to the front steps, then to the entrance. They knocked on the door. A moment later it opened, and she found herself staring at a leering Donovan.
He stepped aside while the two men dragged her into the house. He closed the
door and followed. Past the spacious foyer was a large living area with sleek, minimalistic furniture, expensive-looking and somewhat at odds with the idea of a rustic country home. But her gaze locked on the large cage in the center of the room.
Large was relative. It was about six feet tall, but was only big enough to allow one person the barest amount of space. She glanced at Donovan and the dark gleam in his eye confirmed exactly what she feared. Her gaze returned to the cage, eyeing the stainless steel bars. He intended to put her in there. Before or after he beat her … or worse … she didn’t know.
“Do you have the necklace?” he asked calmly.
Her gaze darted back to him. “I gave it to Officer Parker.”
“Yes, of course.” He walked toward her.
The other two men each still had firm grips on her upper arms so she couldn’t move away from him as he glided an unwelcome finger along her cheek. She suppressed her urge to flinch, not wanting to give him the satisfaction.
“A shame. It was such a pretty collar.” He walked to a table along the wall and opened a drawer. “Now you’ll just have to settle for this.”
He stepped toward her with a thick, black leather collar in his hand. It had a sturdy, round, steel ring on the front and two D rings on each side. She tried to pull her arms free from his henchmen’s grips, but they squeezed tighter until she was sure they’d left her bruised. She winced as their fingers dug into the flesh of her arms.
“You know you never should have walked away from me.” Donovan pushed her hair to one side and wrapped the thick, stiff collar around her neck, pulling it uncomfortably tight, then fastened the buckle at the back.
The coarse leather abraded her skin, and she felt a little panicky with it so tight, as if she would choke, but she knew better than to complain. If she did, he would probably tighten it even more.
“Did you enjoy your time as a biker slut?” He picked up a strand of her hair and toyed with it. “Did you service all of them?”
Her cheeks heated as she realized she couldn’t even deny his insinuation, not that it would matter if she had.
The other two men stared at her, almost drooling. Would Donovan give her to them and watch, just as he had tried to give her to Wild Card in the parking garage? Anxiety quivered through her.
Donovan stepped in front of her then nodded to the two men, who released her.
“Take off your clothes,” he commanded.
She drew in a deep breath, frozen to the spot.
She wasn’t just going to strip in front of him and his two men. Even though she knew he wouldn’t stand for her disobeying him. She stared at him, immobile, her heart pounding.
He stepped toward her and she tried to step back, then the men grabbed her arms.
He pulled something from his pocket and flicked it and she realized it was a pocketknife. He grabbed the hem of her shirt and cut through the fabric, then he ripped open the front of the shirt, exposing her heaving breasts, covered only by the black lace cups of her bra.
One of the men pulled the torn shirt down her forearms and twisted the dangling garment behind her, binding her arms as she struggled. With the two men restraining her, Donovan unfastened her jeans, then tugged them down, despite her kicking and twisting. She fell off balance and they let her fall to the floor, dropping down beside her. She’d worked her arms free from the torn shirt, but they grabbed them now and held them immobile. Donovan pulled her jeans off and tossed them aside. He knelt over her, a knee on either side of her thighs, and stared down at her, an evil smile on his face.
“You should have stripped when I told you to,” he said, then he flicked open his knife again.
He tucked one of his fingers under her bra strap, his touch sending anxious tremors through her, then he flicked the blade. She winced at the cutting pain as he nicked her skin with the tip while slicing the strap.
“How unfortunate.” His eyes glittered as he dragged his finger over her cut, then raised it, blood beading on the tip. “I seem to have cut you.” He licked the drops from his finger, then stared at her again.
In a quick motion, he slashed her other strap, maliciously cutting her again. She lay there staring up at him, sucking in breaths of air, willing herself not to move. His fingers slid under the band of her bra at the side, then a sick feeling quivered through her at the sharp sensation of another nick.
He wouldn’t hold back this time. He would do whatever he wanted with her, probably even kill her, then just dump her body somewhere and nobody would be the wiser.
Because she knew that no one knew he had her. Steele would not be able to find her here.
Oh, God, she might never see Steele again. Right at this moment, all she could think about was seeing his face again. Feeling his strong, protective arms around her. All her doubts about leaving her home to ride with Steele evaporated. At this moment of clarity, she knew that all she really wanted was to be with Steele. Forever.
But now that seemed impossible. She really didn’t think she’d survive this night.
Donovan tossed aside her bra and leered down at her. The other men’s gazes also locked on her bare breasts. She felt sick inside.
Donovan roughly fondled one breast.
“Now let’s see that juicy little cunt of yours.” Then before she could catch a breath, he slashed both sides of her panties, nicking her twice more.
He leaned forward and grasped her wrists. His two henchmen released their hold on her as Donovan pinned her hands over her head, his gaze locking on hers.
“There’s a black shoebox on the couch,” he said to one of the men, still staring into her eyes, looking smug at the fear he must have seen there. “Get it and put the shoes on her.”
The men moved away and within moments she felt one grasp her ankle and force her foot into a tight-fitting, very high-heeled shoe.
“I know how you like your stilettos.” His lips turned up in a malicious smile. In fact, he knew she hated them.
She felt hands fastening them around her ankles. She wanted to kick and wound with them, but the strong hands prevented her from doing that. Donovan strapped leather bands around her wrists, then stood up and the other men grabbed her arms and lifted her to her feet. She steadied herself on the extremely high, narrow heels, almost tumbling to the floor again. She glanced down to look at the shoes, which had to be seven-inch heels, with an inch-high platform under the sole.
‘Well, don’t you look like the perfect, sexy slut.” Donovan’s hand cupped her bare bottom.
She couldn’t help herself. She lifted her foot and jabbed the sharp end of the heel into his shoe-covered foot.
“Fuck!” He lurched back, knocking her off balance, but his henchmen stopped her from falling. Sparks flared from Donovan’s cold, gray eyes. He grabbed her arm and tugged her toward him, then smacked her hard across her face. She fell to the ground in a daze, her jaw aching.
“Bitch! You’ll regret that.” His blazing glare shifted to the men. “Put her in the cage.”
They pulled her to her feet and marched her to the tall narrow cell. One rough hand brushed over her breast, squeezing it, and she stifled a cry. Donovan would probably just encourage the man if she made any protest. They reached the cage and the wiry man ran his hand over her ass as the driver opened the door.
“Before we put her in…” the wiry one said, “uh … you said you didn’t care if we touched her.”
“You want to fuck her?” Donovan raised an eyebrow, watching the rising fear in her eyes. “Right here in front of me?”
“I don’t give a shit where.” The wiry man gave her breast a rough squeeze. “I just want to hear the bitch scream.”
“Oh, she’ll be screaming all right, but not from your rough handling.” Donovan’s gaze locked on her face, taking in her flaming cheeks and rapid, anxious breathing. “I wouldn’t mind watching you and your friend fucking her at the same time while she screams in protest.” He grinned evilly. “Or in pleasure, the slut she is.”
&n
bsp; The wiry man stared at her with cruel, heated eyes and started to unfasten his pants.
“But not tonight.” Donovan walked toward the cage. “I don’t feel like sampling another man’s—I should say men’s—sloppy seconds. Put her in the cage.”
The wiry man scowled and pushed her inside.
“Fasten her wrists.” Donovan watched while the wiry man grabbed her left wrist and held it to her side, then the driver used a metal clip to fasten the ring on the wrist strap to the cage. She tried to fight them while they grabbed her other wrist and attached it at her other side, but all she accomplished was bruising herself as her struggles battered her against the cold metal bars.
Now she stood precariously balanced on these ridiculous shoes, her arms restrained at her sides.
“Use this to secure her legs.” Donovan handed the driver two black cords. “You can attach it around the heels.”
The wiry man grabbed one of her ankles and pulled it to the side, and the driver tied the heel of her shoe to the bar. When he grabbed her other ankle and pushed her legs as wide as the narrow cage would allow, she lost her balance and her ankle twisted painfully. She cried out in pain. The wiry man grabbed her hips, then stood up and pushed her against the cage, his body holding her firm. The feel of him against her sent her skin crawling. His hands roamed over her body.
Donovan simply watched for a few seconds, then finally said, “Get on with it. Tie her ankle.”
The wiry man sank back down and pressed her foot back so that the driver could tie the shoe to the cage. He stood up, his fingers trailing up her thigh. Revulsion jolted through her at his rough touch.
Then he left the cage and the driver closed the door, both men leering at her naked body.
Donovan strolled toward the cage, another thick black cord in his hand. He stepped behind her and tugged her hair to one side, then pushed his fingers through the bars and threaded the cord through the ring on the side of her collar. She pushed aside the panicky impulse to fight him. It wouldn’t get her anywhere. He pulled the cord around the bars, then threaded it though the ring on the other side of her collar.
He pulled the cord snug, tugging her head tight against the bars, making her gasp. Then he tied it.