“So he’s told you about me?”
“Just that you’re a whore.”
Mrs. Williams iffed at Bailey, but Sharper laughed and grabbed his wife’s hand. “Do you think he’d describe you as a nun, kitten?”
“He doesn’t have to describe me to his little slut as a whore.”
“I’ll let you have her and you can take out your frustrations on her then. I need to find out where those letters are first.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Go get some pussy. It’s been a couple of weeks since you’ve had any.”
Torn between following her husband’s orders and wanting to hurt Bailey, Charlemagne heaved in a breath. “I want to hear her scream,” she breathed, her eyes glazing over, tears filling them again. “The same way you make me scream when I’ve done wrong. The same way you hurt me.”
“Well, it took you a long time to get to the point where you enjoyed it. We don’t have that time with Bailey. Once I get the information, she’s yours to fuck and to beat into an unrecognizable pulp.”
“You think Lucas is coming for her?”
Sharper nodded. “I do.”
“We promised Mark we’d let Lucas and Tyler live if he brought her to us.”
“I may,” Sharper said gravely. “If he arrives and is just suspicious, then he can walk away. If he gets here thinking to find her, then he’s dead.” He went to a cabinet across the room.
Char roamed to Bailey’s side and sat close to her feet, angling her head in different directions as she studied Bailey.
“Has he put his dick in you recently?” she asked with hostile curiosity. “What about your ass? Has he talked you into giving up your ass to him? Maybe, he just took it? Like Sharper did with me. I had five different men fuck me in the ass one night.” She nodded her head towards the door. “Right on the pulpit. I made Sharper mad, just like you’ve made me mad. I hate you. I can’t wait to kill you for getting Lucas’s dick. For being able to say the baby you carry is his.”
Bailey’s eyes slid closed, sleep pulling to her again, but Mrs. Williams’s evil voice kept her awake.
Sharper sat on the edge of the daybed, near Bailey’s head. He stared at her almost reverently. “You’re so gorgeous. Whatever else he may be, my son has always had a good eye for beautiful women.” He turned slightly and ran his hand over Bailey’s belly, trailing a pathway to her vagina. He stroked her and pushed open her legs. “Do you want a taste, Char? Just one lick,” he declared as Char’s mouth descended to Bailey.
Sharper held her shoulders down as Char’s head rested between Bailey’s legs. As instructed, Mrs. Williams ran her tongue along Bailey’s seam, pausing to open her lips and taste her clit, before raising her head and narrowing her eyes at Bailey. A moment later, her nails dug into Bailey’s upper thighs. She punched her a few times before Sharper yanked her back.
“Do you want me to beat you, pet?”
“N-no,” she panted, out of breath with…Bailey couldn’t comprehend what.
“Then stop hitting her. You’ll have your chance.”
“Why isn’t she protesting too much? Stop drugging her. I want her to fight me.” She inserted herself between Bailey and the wall, wrapped her hand around one of Bailey’s sensitive breasts, and squeezed, twisted, and pulled.
Bailey moaned at the pain, unable to lift her hands to fight Mrs. Williams off. She sniffled, felt the tears sliding down her cheeks. Mrs. Williams loomed over her.
Through her haze, Bailey felt her daughter give the faintest kick and Mrs. Williams went rigid. “His baby moved.”
She reared back and pushed Bailey’s thighs open again. “I’ve seen a bunch of cunts and yours is ugly. Nothing but that strip of hair on top and a small bit around your pussy lips. It’s ugly like you. Fat heifer.”
“Fat or not, I have him and you don’t,” Bailey slurred, earning a punch to the jaw. Attempting to lift her head, it just felt too heavy. Any words, all defiance, deserted her. Her brain did yield a question. “Who are you? Who are you to Lucas?”
Instead of answering, Mrs. Williams breathed in a few, deep breaths before falling between Bailey’s legs again, her breath fanning over Bailey’s feminine mound and outer lips.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” Sharper asked.
“Smelling her. Looking for Lucas.”
“Enough about my son. You chose me, therefore, you live with the consequences. That includes staying away from him.”
“Sharper—”
“Charlemagne,” he bit out, “Go appraise our new sale item. If she has no value, then she’s junk. Use her and get rid of her. Now, leave K-P’s daughter and me alone.”
The moment Mrs. Williams left, Sharper stood and began to pace. His features went in and out of her mind. Silvery hair, slicked back. Tall, robust, and brown-skinned with a handsome face.
“Let me apologize, Bailey,” he began, his brow furrowed. “I forgot to get K-P out of the way before Logan got back to town.”
Bailey stared at him, unable to form words.
“Joe bought K-P’s life. Paid well for it. If he was still alive, I’d have to give him a refund. But they’re all gone. Outlaw destroyed everything. Your husband is his loyal soldier and you have to pay for it on his behalf. That’s what his brother chose. First, I need the letters your father left, the photos, and the receipts. Where are they, Bailey?”
She shook her head. “I have no letters,” she croaked. “N-nothing.”
He threaded his hands through her hair. “You should’ve listened to K-P and stayed away from my son. Now, you’ve been caught between a battle Logan and I began years ago. We fought it first together, as allies, and, then, as enemies.”
“Please.” Her voice sounded slow and thick, unintelligible to her ears. She was trying to understand all of Sharper’s words, but almost the moment they hit her ears, they flew out of her head.
He bent and licked her nipple, before tonguing her chest, her neck, her chin, leaving a trail of spit on her skin. She recoiled and he scowled. He braced himself over her and pressed his groin against her core.
It felt strange to her, though. She couldn’t even feel him inside of her.
“I’m impotent,” he grunted, rocking against her. “Why should I bother unzipping my pants if my dick doesn’t work anymore?”
Whhhhhyyyyy? The dragged out word in Bailey’s head could’ve just as well been weeeee. That’s how removed she was from the here and now.
“You won’t recall anything, so you’ll have no traumatic memories,” he crooned and pumped against her once more before leaning against the wall, breathing hard. “You bruise easily, don’t you?”
She didn’t know why she started to cry, but she did.
Sharper stroked between her legs. “Don’t listen to Charlemagne. She’s a very jealous hearted woman. If only you were not for Lucas, your face and pussy would bring in big dollars.”
He applied pressure to her clit. “Do you know the meaning of blood in and blood out? I suppose you don’t,” he answered thoughtfully. “K-P was so determined to keep you away from this life.” He inserted a finger inside of her. “We can’t kill them until we kill all of you. It seems like the best kind of justice. As long as they didn’t give a fuck, we didn’t give a fuck. I didn’t give a fuck. I have my church, my reputation, my money, to protect. Outlaw went and fell in love, and ruined it all. No, he ruined it when he killed Big Joe. There’s evidence of us, Bailey. Me and Logan. What we’ve done. The evidence is out there. Big Joe said it would get out when we least expected it if he were killed.” He twisted his fingers inside of Bailey. “Cee Cee tore Dinah Nicholls’ house apart when he was away in Seattle. Her former house,” he amended. “We found nothing. Logan searched Outlaw’s house before Johnnie killed him. The logical place is the club, but Mark swears no one has ever mentioned letters or photographs. That leaves you, the missing link.” His eyes grew wild. “Tell me what I want to know.”
“I can’t tell you anything,” she said groggily t
hrough sniffles. “I don’t know anything about any of this. My father never mentioned it.”
Removing his hand, he got to his feet and made a hand signal.
“This is Osti,” Sharper introduced.
Osti smiled at her, his teeth white against his dark complexion. Something about him reminded her of Lucas, but he wasn’t her husband. His eyes weren’t as pretty. They were colder, too. Meaner.
“Just a sample,” Sharper warned. “Haven’t decided what I’m doing with her body, so I don’t want DNA in her.”
“Fine,” Osti grunted. “Just a quick dick dip, then she can suck me off. Any bitch associated with Lucas must be a master dick sucker, since he likes his dick sucked so fucking much.”
The man, Osti, flipped Bailey over. “On your knees,” he ordered.
Bailey lay on her side, unable to get her body to follow Osti’s commands.
Roughly, he gripped her hips and pulled her to the position he wanted her. She felt his penis probing at her entrance and he pushed.
“It hurts,” Bailey said, sucking in a breath.
“Because you’re not wet,” Osti said, his aggravation clear. He turned her over again, grabbed her by the throat, and shoved his penis into her mouth. “Now, suck me off.”
For some reason, images of Lucas in an almost mirrored stance and hold of her danced in Bailey’s head. She couldn’t be sure if it had really happened or if she was pretending Osti was Lucas to get through it. It seemed to take forever before he finally ejaculated down her throat, although it could’ve been a few seconds, a couple of minutes, or an hour or two.
She felt her legs being spread again.
“Look at the clit on you,” Osti growled, his tongue stroking her a moment later. He laughed against her. “Now, you’re getting wet.”
“She likes that?” Sharper called.
Osti didn’t answer, too busy eating Bailey. Finally, he pulled his head away, licked his lips, and stood. “She’s fucking delicious. I say we auction her off.”
“We need to let the drugs wear off. See if she comes or not.”
“You fucked her?”
Mrs. Williams’s voice intruded into the men’s conversation.
“She just sucked my cock, Charlemagne,” Osti soothed. “I have enough dick left over for you.”
Snorting, Mrs. Williams stood over Bailey and glared down at her. One knee on the bed, she leaned over Bailey, then shoved her fingers inside of her. “She’s wet.”
“I heated her up,” Osti bragged.
“Ugly, fat slut,” Mrs. Williams said viciously. “I’m going to cut your brat out of you.” Bitterness twisted her face and she struck Bailey again, making her head snap back.
“Might as well save your insults,” Osti advised, and ice cubes clinked against a glass. “She won’t remember them. Wait ‘til she sleeps this off.”
The other woman leaned close to Bailey. “I’m going to kill you. This time, I don’t even care about the money your pussy would make for us. Lucas is supposed to yearn for me. Do you know who I am?”
Her identity must’ve been really important for her to keep asking Bailey the same question. Somewhere, though, a name—Charlemagne—Lucas’s ex-love, kept rising inside Bailey’s head.
“Either you don’t know or you don’t care.” Mrs. Williams slammed her fist against Bailey’s eye.
Unable to endure anymore, Bailey slipped into unconsciousness.
“Wake up.”
A smooth male voice lured Bailey to wakefulness and she bolted up, her heart pounding, her pulse roaring in her head. Silence surrounded her, increasing her fear and disorientation. She needed to escape and save herself, but she had no clue where she was.
If she stayed, bad things would happen to her, so she had to escape. Bad things had already happened to her. Digger had gotten shot…No, that couldn’t be right. He was the one responsible for abducting her in the first place. He wouldn’t jump in front of a bullet to save her life.
Her bladder near to bursting, Bailey tested the restraints on her arms and ankles…and found herself free.
Digger had freed her. Maybe, he’d help her to escape and get back to Lucas. Get away from Mrs. Williams. Mrs. Williams…Charlemagne.
Bailey wouldn’t worry about that for the time being. Nor would she speculate if the phone call she’d received from a Mrs. Williams a few days ago was connected to what was happening now. She had to free herself and her baby.
Sliding to the edge of the daybed, she lost her balance and started to fall over. Hands gripped her and she cried out, clawing at the vice-like grip.
“No! No! No! Let go of me.”
“Bailey, baby, wake up. I’m right here. It’s me. Mort…Lucas. Wake up.”
Before she responded, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. His scent enveloped her and she drew in sharp breaths, willing awareness into her brain.
“Lucas?” she whispered, afraid to believe he was there with her.
“I have you,” he responded with tenderness, his fingers stroking her scalp. “You had a bad dream.”
She clung to him, his erection poking her thigh. “It was so real. I thought—”
“It wasn’t real,” he crooned, as if he knew what she’d been about to say. “You safe and I’m not going to let anything happen to you. I promise, Bailey.”
“It was so vivid,” she insisted, seeking his warmth and strength and curling into him. He skimmed her hairline with kisses. “They were touching me everywhere and…and Charlemagne played Russian Roulette with me and…and Digger jumped in front of a bullet and she was saying all kinds of crazy things. That she owned you first and…and…a man…Osti…I think…he…he forced me to suck him off—”
The more she spoke, the tighter Lucas gripped her, until breathing became difficult.
“Do you remember any of that happening to you?”
He had an odd tone, a combination of anger and fear that made Bailey tense a little more. She’d heard the name Charlemagne from Kendall, so she knew who the woman was, but no one had ever spoken of an Osti before. The only way she could dream about them was if she’d actually lived it firsthand and had been too drugged to realize what was going on. Her nightmare involving Ulner was based in reality. She believed this one was, too. “Do you know an Osti?”
A heartbeat of silence went by before Lucas growled, “He’s my cousin.”
Gasping, she covered her face with her hands. “Oh my God.”
“What do you remember?”
In contrast to her horror and the emotion he’d shown moments before, Lucas now sounded distant.
“I don’t remember anything but waking up and hearing church music,” she started through her tears, vaguely remembering her doctor’s warning to stay calm. She hadn’t even gotten her prescriptions filled. As long as she kept her appointments and followed orders, she wouldn’t face serious complications.
She hadn’t mentioned her recently discovered illness to the doctor who’d checked her out. And she’d been suffering more than a little stress and duress. Even before the kidnapping, the prognosis for labor and delivery was more frightening than the scenario for the pregnancy itself.
“You heard me, girl?”
Bailey drew in a deep breath and shook her head. “No.”
“Let’s talk about this when you heal up. I want you to sleep for now.”
“I’m scared,” she told him on a sob, the confession more meaningful than he took it for.
She feared for her life because of her health and Sharper Banks. Lucas had to understand what she meant. She’d always handled situations by accepting them or finding a solution herself. But her dream had completely nonplussed her. More had happened to her while she’d been kidnapped than she’d realized.
“Lucas, listen to me,” she began, needing his strength and reassurance right now. She reminded herself her illness wasn’t really serious. She could do this. She would do this. But Lucas had a way of saying things that made everything instan
tly better. “Hear me out.”
Empty desolation flashed in his eyes before irritation surged up.
“I don’t need to hear anything,” he insisted. “You don’t have nothing to be afraid of. I’m not letting anything happen to you or my daughter. I’ll kill or be killed first.”
“But—”
“But, nothing. If Osti stuck his dick in your mouth and got off, it’s best for you not to really remember it.”
“I do remember it,” she stated, shoving aside her fear for her pregnancy and her well-being since he ignored it. She’d handle this as she’d handled everything else. Lucas didn’t want to hear what she had to say, so she wouldn’t force him to listen. “I wouldn’t dream about it if it hadn’t happened.”
“You dreaming about shit because your mind working on you, thinking of all the things that could’ve happened.”
“Digger saved my life. He helped me…he told me which way to go to get out. I remember that. But, in my dream, he took a bullet for me—”
“My brother a dead man,” Lucas bit out coldly. “He took you in the first fucking place. Nothing you say can make me change—”
“Do you know who Tyler is?”
Lucas froze and, for a moment, even the rise and fall of his chest paused as if he’d stopped breathing. And Bailey had her answer. To everything. Her entire dream was based in reality. If he knew who Osti was and understood the significance of the name Tyler, than it was all true. Lucas and Charlemagne had meant a lot to one another and, out of that, a son had been born.
She swallowed, trying her best to accept the fact that Lucas already had a child. She couldn’t change it, so why torture herself with it? Yet, it hurt her that he’d never mentioned his son to her. If any part of his life should’ve been shared, it was that part. “Charlemagne’s son. Your son.”
Exhaling on a long breath, he remained silent. Anger bubbled up, but Bailey pushed it down. She wouldn’t go off the deep end like her mom. Keeping herself contained and reserved for something she had no control over was the smart thing to do.
“It was your life and your son’s or my life,” she said quietly. “Digger chose to hand me over to save you.”
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 196