by Cathryn Cade
Tim had made her feel special at the beginning too, she reminded herself fiercely. And then he'd proved that this meant nothing when it came to being worthy of her trust. She couldn't depend on a man to make her life good. She had to do it herself. Even if Rezan said T might be able to help her find a job, she couldn't depend on that either.
So she'd look at last night as a new beginning. Use men for a good time, the way they used women. Then let them go.
Yup, it was a solid plan. And she'd follow it... even if part of her wanted to run down the road after T-Bear and find him, beg him to spend more time with her. That was just needy and stupid.
If she couldn’t find a decent job on her own, then she’d call him and ask for his help. But not before.
It wasn't until she climbed out of bed, the top blanket wrapped around her for warmth, that she saw the bills folded on the nightstand. She stared, her mind not taking them in at first. Two hundred dollar bills? What… how… why?
Then she remembered T-Bear's deep voice in the darkness. The way she'd heard it in the wee hours, but hadn't truly taken it in. Her breath caught in her throat, and panic loomed, like a boogey-man lurking in the darkness, ready to spring.
'You did good,' T had murmured. 'Already paid Rezan his share. This is yours to keep.'
Had she dreamed that, or had he really said it? The panic grew into a heavy pressure on the back of her neck, pressing her forward and down.
Because now she heard Rezan's voice again, too. 'With your looks, gorgeous, you don't gotta be working behind a counter. You gotta work you.'
Slowly, she sank to the side of the bed, her legs too weak to hold her up. She reached out and touched the bills. The paper was cool and dry. She picked it up, staring as if it held the answers to what had happened to her.
T-Bear 'John' Turner hadn't taken her on a blind date.
He'd paid for her.
He'd taken her to dinner, why she didn't know, but his end goal all the time had been to bring her back here and fuck her.
She remembered again his quizzical look when she'd asked if he wanted to come in, and groaned, her face burning with humiliation. No wonder he'd looked at her that way—coming in here, and into her, had been the main event. Planned from the get-go.
Because he thought she was a prostitute. A whore. Rezan Faro had told him so.
Rezan Faro had pimped her out.
He'd been sweet to her, he'd lent her money to buy pretty clothes, and then he'd sent her out to have sex, and taken money for it.
Oh, no, he did not!
Manda moved through the next several moments like a precision machine.
Get up. Wash up. Get dressed—in the new dress and undies, because her other things were all dirty. Blow out her hair.
Put on her makeup, because when she told Rezan Faro where he could shove his ugly scheme to use her, she was going to do it looking her best. Step into her new booties, sling her purse cross-body style over her dress, then don her sweater-jacket.
She made sure the two hundred dollars was safe in the side pocket of her purse, because she was giving it back, one way or the other.
First, she'd deal with Rezan. Then with her 'date'.
Thus armored, she marched along the few feet of cracked pavement to the Pine Cabins office.
When she flung open the door and stalked into the office, Rezan was not alone. A burly, shaven-head guy who looked like he lived in a gym—one with a tanning booth—lounged against the wall, while Rezan sat kicked back in his office chair.
Rezan grinned when he saw her, and now she saw that smile in a whole new light. Saw the smugness in it, the sly edge. "Hey, gorgeous. You have a good time last night?"
"You bastard," she said, her voice shaking with fury. "How dare you ask me that? You used me!"
His brows shot up, and he glared, but quickly hid it behind a look of exaggerated innocence. "Say what? I send you on a date with a great guy, and this is how you thank me?"
His muscle-bound guest snickered.
"A date?" Manda smacked her hands on Rezan's desk and glared down at him. "If that was a 'date', explain to me why he paid you money to take me out! Huh?"
The muscle-bound man straightened from the window. Rezan's eyes narrowed, and he pointed a finger at her. "Hey. I helped you out."
"You used me!" she repeated, her voice rising to a near shriek. "You humiliated me. You wanna help me out, help me get a job at the local Mini Mart. I am. Not. A. Whore! But if and when I ever decide to have sex for money, I sure as hell won't do it for you!"
Rezan smirked. "You don't think so?" His gaze slid past her, and her arms were seized from behind in a rough, punishing grip.
Muscle man had her.
Manda struggled, yanking at his sweaty, pinching hands. "Ow! Let me go—Rezan, make him let me go!"
What was going on? Her anger morphed into a flood of icy fear.
This was wrong, it was all wrong.
She was supposed to give Rezan a piece of her mind and then march out to the road and hitchhike to the nearest store, where she could call for help of some kind.
Rezan lounged back in his chair, looking pleased with himself and with the world. "Now why'd I wanna do that, bitch? Timmy brought you to me, and you work for me now. And until you get that through your head, I gotta prove it to you. Lucky for you, you're also pretty, so I don't mind making the effort."
His words landed like blows. “I don’t believe you! Tim wouldn’t do that to me.”
Rezan’s smiled widened. “You really are as dumb as he said you was. Why you think he brought you all the way up here, bitch? Y’see, Tim don’t just owe money down in the Tri, he owes me too. So for payment… he brought me you.”
“Even if he does,” she hissed. “I will never be your whore.”
She struggled harder, kicking backward and managing to stomp one of her stiletto heels on Muscle Man's instep.
He squealed like a girl, then yanked her back against him in one burly arm and grabbed her hair with his other hand, yanking her head back at a painful angle.
"Bitch," he hissed in her ear. "You're gonna pay for that." He stank of stale sweat and cologne, and his breath was even worse.
Rezan came up out of his chair and around the desk. But instead of being reassured, Manda's fear deepened, for he moved with intent. She stared at him as she would a coiling rattlesnake.
"Don't you touch me," she said. But even to her, her voice sounded thin and shaky. "He won't let you do this."
He drew back his hand, and slapped her, hard across the face. Her head jerked to the side, noise popping in her ears. Then pain bloomed viciously.
Another pop, as he hit her again on the same side. Manda whimpered, an involuntary cry of pain and disbelief.
The two men laughed, Muscle Man's chest quivering behind her.
Rezan grasped her chin and forced her to look him in the eyes. She cringed, waiting for another blow.
"Who you think is gonna save you, you stupid cunt?" Rezan asked casually. "You think that big, dumb ginger biker is gonna ride to your rescue after one fuck which was probably lousy? You really are even stupider than Tim said. The Devil's Flyers got pussy all over their clubhouse . Only way you get an in with them is if you hang out there, and service them. Now, you straighten up and behave, maybe I'll send you out there, give you that job."
He patted her cheek, and then stepped back. "That's if you learn to mind me. But first, I think you need some incentive to do that."
"Tie her up, Jere," he said to Muscle Man. "Gag her so we don't hafta listen to anymore of her shit."
"Okay. But… then what should I do with her?"
Rezan jerked his head to the wall behind him. "Toss her in the storage room. Few hours in there, and she should be ready to be a good girl, don'tcha think?"
"Yeah, sure. But if she ain't, you gonna let me persuade her?"
Rezan chuckled, a merry sound. "Sure, man. That pleasure can be yours. See you later, Manda."
"No wa
it," Manda pleaded. "Don't do this. I'll—I’ll be good, you'll see. I'll cooperate." Until they turned their backs—then she'd run like hell the very first chance she got.
"Yeah," he agreed, stepping close again. "I know you will." He lifted his hand—the one he'd hit her with, and she cowered. Her head and face ached, pain throbbing so viciously she wasn’t sure she could bear another blow.
Rezan liked her fear, she could tell by the gleam in his dark eyes. But this time, he only tapped her chin with his forefinger."You know why you will? 'Cause you're mine now, Manda. And the sooner you learn that, the better off you'll be."
Muscle Man dragged Manda across the office, through a door in the back wall, and into a small, dank, chilly space with a stack of boxes, a couple of battered filing cabinets, and not much else. It stank of mildew and garbage.
"No," she protested. "Please, don't." Whatever it was he was planning. It wasn't good, she knew that. He'd rape her here, she just knew it.
"Shut up until I tell you to talk." Muscle Man shoved her face first against the nearest filing cabinet. Her belly connected painfully with the sharp metal edge, and her upper body slammed forward, face down over the dirty metal.
Harsh plastic fastened around her wrists, digging painfully into her skin. Then her ankles were subjected to the same treatment.
Once she was bound, he yanked her upright, and slapped a length of duct tape over her mouth.
He held his hand there, over her mouth, his thumb and fingers pinching hard into her cheeks so she couldn’t breathe. He sneered at her in the light slanting in from the office, his hot breath fanning her face. "Yeah, now you gotta be quiet, don'tcha? Now be a good girl, and maybe instead of breaking your legs when I get back, I'll let you bend over for me."
So saying, he gave her a hard shove that sent her reeling. Off-balance, she could do nothing to save herself. Her head slammed into the wall. A sound like a large gong echoed in her ears as she slid to the floor.
The door slammed behind him, and a padlock clanked.
Alone in the cold, stinking darkness, Manda lay, dazed with pain.
The humiliation and the hurt of yet another betrayal soon followed, vicious as they enveloped her in their slimy clutches.
She'd trusted Tim, and look where that had gotten her.
She'd trusted Rezan, and he'd taken something from her. He'd used her in the ugliest of ways, planned to use her over and over to service a stream of other men.
Maybe he and Tim were right about her. Maybe she was too stupid to be able to make her own way in the world.
But no way in hell was she going to allow a scumbag like Rezan Faro turn her into a whore.
CHAPTER TEN
* * *
It was nearly noon before T woke to the cursing, laughter and horseplay of the clubhouse on a Saturday morning.
He reached up and shoved hair out of his face and sniffed. The familiar smells of his own dirty laundry, old motorcycle boots, and leathers. But also, m-mm, coffee, bacon, and was that cinnamon? Yes-sss. One of the old ladies was in the kitchen.
He shot out of bed, grabbed his pants and a tee from the top of a pile and hustled them on, then headed across the hall to the bathroom.
He paused to poke his head into the kitchen as he passed. "Save me some o' whatever smells so good, an' I'll be your slave forever, darlin’!"
Pete's woman Lesa turned from the stove to smile at him, and her tall, blond man grinned from nearby where he stood with a cup of coffee. Both were all showered up and shiny, both in jeans and boots. Lesa in a pretty top the color of a berry, Pete in a black plaid western shirt, and his leather cut. "Better hurry then, T."
"Just remember I'm bigger'n you, Brews, and we'll get along fine." Their laughter followed him down the hallway.
He took a piss, paused long enough to splash water on his face and swipe back his damn, wild-ass hair in a knot at the back of his neck, called that good enough, and headed back to the kitchen.
When he arrived, Pete was seated at the big table, with a loaded plate before him. "Aw, man," T said with delight. "Coffee cake an' cheesy eggs. My favorite." And bacon. Bacon was everyone's favorite, obviously.
Lesa handed him a full plate, and he plunked into the chair beside Pete, grabbing the coffee cake and taking a huge bite. Warm, doughy cinnamon goodness melted in his mouth as he chewed. "Ass so gd," he moaned. "Leave Pete f' me, darlin'."
She set a cup of coffee beside his plate, and patted him on the shoulder. "Can't, T. I'd have to kill you for leaving a mess everywhere you go, and then I'd be all alone."
He forked up a bite of eggs, cheese melting off the sides. "Right, like your man's Neaty Petey." M-mm, the eggs were even better, all cheesy with bits of onion and peppers cooked in the mix.
Pete winked at him. "Nyet, but she loves my big dick so much she lets me get away with being messy."
Lesa snorted as she slipped into the chair on the other side of Pete, with a much smaller plate of food. "No, he loves my lady parts so much he's learning to pick up after himself."
Both men stared at her, and T chuckled richly. "Lady parts?" he repeated. "Fuck, you been readin' them sexy books again, darlin'."
Some of the shit women fantasized about was fuckin' silly, but some was pretty awesome. T wouldn't mind dressing up as a pirate or warrior and doing a little marauding of his own, if a woman was so inclined.
Pete chuckled, a dirty sound, and reached to touch Lesa under the table, in a way that made her jump in her chair. "Milaya moye, is that why you wanted me to come to bed wearing nothing but my cowboy boots, hat and a rope last night? "
His fiance's eyes went wide, her cheeks pink. "Pete Vanko! You shut it, or I'll toss your boots, hat and your—your rope out our second story window."
Both men guffawed at this, because she'd once tried to toss everything Pete owned out his second story bedroom windows. She'd made pretty good progress by the time he stopped her, too.
Pete leaned over, clamped a hand around the back of her neck, and pulled her close enough to kiss. Then he grinned at her. "I’ll teach you to talk dirty. Just repeat after me, sladke moye. Pussy. Pete loves my pussy. No, better yet, Pete takes excellent care of my pussy."
She gave him a flustered, loving look. Then her eyes filled with pure deviltry. "Oh, honey. You think I won't? PETE VANKO TAKES EXCELLENT CARE OF MY PUSSY!" she hollered, right in his face.
Rocker and Moke appeared in the doorway. Moke ignored them on his way to the coffee pot, but Rocker stopped, lifted a hand to shove dark, messy hair from his face and gave the couple a smirk. "Glad to hear it," he said.
Lesa gave a squeak of dismay and ducked her head, hiding her face in her hands.
T-Bear and Pete roared with laughter, and Rocker chuckled as he took his turn at the coffee pot. "You'll have to clue me in how you made that happen," he said to Pete. "Wouldn't mind hearin' her little sis singin' my praises when asked."
T nodded. "You could no doubt get her to do it if you give her enough shots. Our little darlin' is a wild one when she gets her drink on."
Rocker smirked as he sat across from T, cup of coffee before him. "You got no idea. And I ain't sayin', so don't ask."
"Damn," T muttered, stuffing a piece of crisp bacon into his mouth. "You guys are way too close-mouthed lately. Used to hear some awesome shit."
Pete smacked him on the back of his head. It hurt, and caused T to spill his coffee, which he'd just picked up. "Ow!" he complained. "The fuck was that for?"
Pete gave him a look that reminded he was the Russian Iceberg's little bro, and had plenty of that ice in his own makeup. "That talk was about strippers and club pussy. A man doesn't talk about his old lady that way, not if he's worth his cut."
This was true. T looked to Lesa. "Sorry, darlin'. No offense." He glowered at Pete, however. Cheezus, claim an old lady and a brother turned into a raging prude. Next, Pete would be wearing a tie and going to church on Sunday mornings.
Lesa gave T a smile. "None taken. Anyone want more co
ffee?"
She refilled cups, ‘cause she was nice like that. Could take the excellent waitress out of the Hangar, but she still noticed when her man and his brothers needed refills.
Then she brought the rest of the coffee cake and the skillet of eggs over and set them in the middle of the table, took her own cup of coffee and headed out, after giving Pete a kiss. “See you in a little while.”
When she was gone, Pete waggled his brows at T. "Now you could share your latest hookup with us. Heard you had a 'date' last night."
It was T's turn to smirk. "That I did. But if you think I'm sharin' after you whacked me upside the head, think again."
Pete's face fell. "C'mon, brother. I've told you plenty of shit, before." His eyes narrowed. "I bet nothin' happened last night. Bet you couldn't get it up, and she was disappointed."
The others chuckled as T growled at him. "I did, and she wasn't. Had me my fill of that little honey pot." Well, that last wasn't true, but for four large, wasn't like he could afford to keep going back. Maybe once a month, though.
Although the reminder of Manda’s new profession killed what was left of his appetite.
Fuck, she shouldn’t be hanging out in a skanky cabin, waiting for her next john. She was the kinda gal who should be here, laughing with him and his brothers at the breakfast table, while they teased her like they had Lesa. He could picture the rosy blush on her pretty cheeks, and the way she’d giggle, her big brown eyes bright.
"Up in Rathdrum, huh?" Pete asked. "This some of the strippers from the Line settin' up shop?"
"Nah," T said. "Dude I met at the Line, though. Rezan Faro. Played cards with him in one of the upstairs games. Won some good money off 'im. Guess he wanted some back." And used Manda to get it. Well, T just might have something to say about that. His jaw tightened.
Rocker's front chair legs hit the floor with a clunk. T looked at him in surprise, and stiffened when he caught sight of the look on Rocker's face.
Whatever was in his friend's mind, it was not good.