“I’ve missed you,” Johnnie told her, pumping into her and staring into her beautiful brown eyes.
“Not as much as I missed you,” Kendall gasped. “I’m so lost without you.”
“Sweetheart, I might get angry with you, but I’ll never desert you. I love you too much.”
“Oh, Johnnie. Do you promise?”
“With my heart and soul. You keep life interesting.”
She grinned at him and tears shone in her eyes. “Can you ever forgive me?”
He nuzzled her neck. “There’s nothing to forgive, gorgeous. You and our kids are unharmed, and our love is as strong as ever. That’s all that matters.”
Kendall pulled his face down to kiss him deeply, rubbing the column of his spine as he thrust in and out of her. She matched his every move. Wherever else their marriage had issues, sex had never been one of them. It was in bed that they connected most of all. It was taking time, but they were making progress outside of the bedroom.
Maybe, if Kendall went to another mental health camp, the demons haunting her would be exorcised once and for all.
“Come inside of me,” she demanded.
He gladly complied. As he lay breathless in her arms, he remembered her latest pregnancy. He’d never send her away while she carried his baby. Once the child was born, though, he’d broach the subject.
He loved her and wanted to keep her as his wife, but he had to safeguard himself against any future druggings on her part.
Somehow, he had to learn to trust her again.
WHEN SHE CAME TO, MEGGIE found herself surrounded by dank darkness. She couldn’t even see her hand in front of her. All she could think about was her son and wonder if he was okay. He had to be!
She had to escape to find him.
Driven by the need to get to CJ, she screamed again and again, until her throat hurt and her head, already pounding from the hit, throbbed worse. No one ever answered.
CJ’s precious little face danced in her head, and she doubled over in pain, attempting to yell. She’d become soundless. Voiceless.
Disoriented, she’d lost all sense of time. Maybe, she’d been in this dark, dank prison for an hour or maybe it had been a week. She’d gotten a small glass of water, but nothing else. Later, she’d had to pee and had held it in as long as possible, until her bladder failed her, and she’d wet herself.
Suddenly, the sound of a door banged open and sunlight gleamed down wooden steps. Cold blasted in, sweeping in welcomed fresh air.
Footsteps approached her, and Meggie backed against the wall. Without warning, the beam of a flashlight shone into her eyes, hurting them. To protect herself, she drew her knees up, and rested her head there.
“You pissed yourself?” Mystic demanded, the sound of his voice sending fear hurtling through her.
Her head hurt, and her stomach felt so empty, it nauseated her.
She still didn’t know why he’d taken her. She did know it had something to do with the club.
“Look at me!”
Light flickered through her drawn up knees. He thumped the side of her head, jarring her already rattled brain.
“Next time it will be harder. Look at me.”
The moment she complied, he flickered the flashlight on his phone into her eyes. She flinched at the pain shooting through her.
“Ready to talk?”
She glared at him.
He smiled. “Didn’t mean to hit you so hard. You been out a while.”
She didn’t respond. He thumped her head again.
“Cat got your tongue?” He laughed. “I need answers from you.”
“Tell me my son is safe. Otherwise, I have nothing to say to you,” she said in a steely voice.
“Bitch, do you really think you’re in control here? You might guide Outlaw around by his cock, but around here I’m the boss.”
“Where’s my child?” she demanded. “As for my husband, take it up with him on whether I control him or not.”
Looming above her, he smirked, flicking the light in and out of her eyes. “I just might do that.” Crouching down, he slid hair behind her ear. “You’re going to be a good girl for me?”
A tear slid down Meggie’s cheek. All the times her stepfather had snuck into her room came to her. She’d lasted then, and she’d do so now. Whatever came her way, as long as CJ was safe, as long as she got back to her husband and her family, she’d endure and survive.
“Mystic, we got to get a roll on,” someone shouted from above. “Don’t take too long.”
Meggie glanced behind him. The sunlight streaming down a set of concrete steps was pretty. Cold air washed away the rank smell of her misery and suffering.
“I hear you,” Mystic called back, then turned his attention back to her. Grabbing her hair, he leaned in and licked her tears.
Turning away, she shivered.
“Your kid’s safe,” he breathed against her ear. “Didn’t have a use for him.” He scrubbed his chin. “Thought about blowing him away, but I kind of admired his spunk. The way he stood up for you, so I let him live. That make you feel better? Will you get wet for me now?” He sniggered. “Do I want you wet or do I want my cock ramming in your dry pussy?”
Meggie wouldn’t respond to that. She couldn’t without breaking down. “Whatever you want, Christopher will give to you,” she swore.
“Because I got you?”
She nodded.
“We’ll see about that whenever I’m ready to let him know you’re here.”
“Please, call him, so I can talk to him.” She could make sure CJ was safe and she’d show Christopher that she was alive.
Mystic grabbed her chin between his fingers and yanked her closer. “We need his help. He needs an incentive to give that help. You’re it. My club is in trouble and your husband’s club can help out. He refuses.” He dragged his tongue across her closed lips.
Meggie recalled a biker stopping at their table the last time she and Christopher had been out with Johnnie and Kendall. She searched her brain for the man’s name but couldn’t come up with one. However, she remembered Christopher mentioning a club he was having trouble with. All the bikers, except Mystic, had worn jackets, so she hadn’t seen their rockers.
Had Mystic turned his back to her? If he had, she didn’t notice. She’d been too busy trying to stall for a chance of being rescued.
“You’re with the Imperials?” she asked.
“Smart bitch. I might get your pussy wet before I fuck you as a reward.”
She wanted to break down and weep, but she knew that would do her no good, so she decided to use another tact. “If you let me go, I swear Christopher will let you live.”
He twisted the hair he still held. “He’s going to let me live anyway, slut. I’m the new blood. He can’t outsmart me. After I fuck you for a few days, I’ll call him and tell him my demands. Depending on his response, I’ll decide if I will send you back a fully intact corpse or not. I think I might have to keep your pretty head as a trophy.”
Her stomach turned at the words. They had no intentions of letting her go. She was dead any way it went.
“Don’t kill me,” she said softly. “You’ll get more out of Christopher if I’m alive—and he has proof.”
“Mystic, Prez, we’re going to be late,” someone called down the stairs. “Leave the cunt alone. They’ll be plenty of time to stick your dick in all holes.”
“Megan…”
As he droned on, Meggie tuned him out, one thought hitting her. The door was open. She had a chance to escape. Maybe, the only chance she’d ever get. She had to take the chance. He intended to rape and kill her anyway it went.
Swallowing her fear and thinking of Christopher and her children, Meggie launched herself at Mystic, catching him off-guard. She jetted up the steps, realizing she didn’t have shoes on and not caring. Bursting into the open air, she surprised the two men waiting outside the entry—of an underground bunker.
One of the men grabbed her leg.
In response, she balled her fist and punched him on the side of his jaw, earning her freedom. She raced toward the porch, where a dog sat, watching the happenings.
Nearing the house with her pursuers hot on her heels, Meggie cried out in relief. A road came into view and a car zoomed by.
“Help!” Meggie screamed as she was tackled to the ground and the wind was knocked from her.
“What the hell’s going on here?” a woman demanded, ignoring Meggie’s sobs.
“Get back inside, Hopper,” Mystic demanded.
“No,” Meggie puffed out, raising herself to her knees and reaching out to the slender woman with long, brown hair and a pretty face.
“Mystic, have you lost your mind?” another man gasped. “You lifted Outlaw Caldwell’s wife?”
“Outlaw?” Hopper echoed. “From the Death Dwellers?”
“Randolph, take your mama inside. And don’t sound so fucking shocked,” Mystic snapped. “You’re the motherfucker who gave me the idea. You’re changing your mind just because she’s your auntie?”
“Mystic, shut up,” Randolph said furiously. “I don’t even know if she knows about Snake.”
“Y-yes. I-I do,” Meggie said, nodding wildly. “Big Joe’s son.”
Randolph nodded. “Well, I’m Big Joe’s grandson. Snake’s son.”
“Help me, please,” she begged, not caring who was related to whom. She just wanted to get away.
“Hop, come on, you know this is the only way,” Mystic wheedled.
Hopper looked at Meggie. “You Big Joe’s baby girl?”
Meggie shook, but still found it in her to nod.
“Outlaw married you?” the other woman asked. Her gaze fell to Meggie’s left hand and her eyes widened. “Holy shits-bits, look at those stones.” She held out her hand.
“No, please,” Meggie cried. “Don’t take my rings.”
Scowling at her, Hopper wiggled her fingers.
Her heart breaking, Meggie yanked off her wedding set and handed it to Hopper, who snatched it from her and slid it on her pinky. “Now, you little cunt, thinking you’re the shit because you married Outlaw,” the woman snarled, slapping Meggie
to the ground and jumping on her before Meggie could strike back.
The men laughed.
“C’mon, Momma,” Randolph said in disgust. “You’re kidding me, right? You’ve already convinced us to align with the Dwellers, when we came to town to avenge my father.”
“I’m sorry, honey,” Hopper whispered to Meggie, not listening to her son. “Just follow my lead. I’m going to keep you alive and unmolested until I can get you out of here.”
Meggie processed the words, scared to believe Hopper was on her side.
“Close your eyes,” Hopper said. “Pretend I knocked you out.”
Doing as instructed, Meggie lay still. Hopper pulled away from her.
“Okay, assholes, if you harm her any more than you already have, I’m leaving.”
“Here we go,” Mystic said with a sigh. “I’m just having a little fun, Hop.”
“Not with Outlaw’s old lady. Big Joe’s daughter. They were always good to me, so was Snake,” she added.
“You seemed to have forgotten that when you jumped on her, Momma,” Randolph reminded her.
She sniffed. “I just didn’t like her. That’s why I knocked her out.”
A jolt of pain went through Meggie at the vicious kicks she received on her thigh. It took everything in her not to moan. Hopefully, they wouldn’t see the tears slipping down her cheeks.
“What are you doing?” Hopper demanded as Meggie heard the rip of material and felt cool air rush over her chest.
“She’s pissy,” Mystic said. “And she tried to escape. If this bitch has no clothes on, she’ll think twice about doing either.”
Meggie kept her eyes closed in humiliation, “coming to” just as she was stripped bare. She blinked up at the sky, then glanced at the other woman.
A muscle in Hopper’s jaw jumped, and she looked away.
Bending down, Mystic picked Meggie up and threw her over his shoulder, slapping her butt a few times on the way back to the bunker. He pounded down the concrete steps, then lifted her above his head. She squeaked in fear.
“Should I slam you to the ground?” He smiled at her. “I wonder how many bones you’d break?”
“Mystic!” Randolph called.
Snickering, Mystic set Meggie on her feet. “Next time,” he said and left her alone.
She hadn’t been steeped in darkness for very long before sunlight beamed in again and Hopper appeared.
Walking closer, she laid the envelope next to her head. “That’s your ring. Keep it hidden. Assholes might’ve stolen it and then you’d never get it back.”
“Th-thank you,” Meggie said, all curled up to cover her nudity.
“Listen, babe. I’ve been knowing Outlaw a long time. If he married you, then you must mean a lot to him. He’s going to destroy everything, and anything connected with this. Even my boy for putting the idea in Mystic’s head. Put two idiots together and all you get are fuckups.”
“I’ll talk to Christopher,” Meggie swore.
Hopper shook her head. “It’s not going to make a difference. I have to leave with my boy until this blows over.”
“Take me with you,” Meggie begged.
“I can’t, babe. Mystic left some of his boys to guard the place. He’ll put up with a lot from me, but not betrayal. You and me would both be shot where we stood.”
Meggie understood Hopper’s logic, even if she didn’t like it.
“I left a note for Mystic,” Hopper continued, “asking him to abandon this suicide mission and telling him where I’m going. Randolph and me fell on hard times, and Mystic saved us, so I’m trying to save him. I’m giving him forty-eight hours—the weekend—to decide. Bright and early Monday morning, I’m getting a message to Outlaw some kind of way and letting him know you’re here.”
“Please don’t leave me here with Mystic. He’s going to kill me.”
“I know you’re scared, but I am, too. Of Outlaw. Randolph and me have to get to safety, in case he finds out where you are before I send word.” Hopper grabbed her hand and squeezed. “If Mystic makes advances on you, submit, babe, and he’ll spare you.” She stood. “Remember, you’re Big Joe’s girl, Outlaw’s wife. Stand strong until your man comes to get you.”
The woman’s words rang in Meggie’s ears long after she’d been left alone, cold, naked, and awaiting her fate. She prayed Christopher arrived in time to save her.
WALKING INTO HIS EMPTY ROOM, Christopher made his way to Megan’s side of the bed and stared at her space. Three nights ago was the last time she’d been there. Now, he could only picture her on the bed, waiting for him, as always. He’d torn all of Hortensia and half of Portland down, but his exhaustion curtailed his intent to continue on.
His fatigue reminded him he was…human. But it was a race against the clock. The longer the Imperials held Megan, chances lessened that Christopher would get her back alive.
He refused to admit his greatest fear—that it was already too late. She was already dead.
Clearing his throat, he glanced around. The place was barren and hollow—lifeless—without his girl.
He’d come home to grab an hour of sleep, but mostly to check on his kids, especially CJ. While Christopher combed the area for his girl, Bunny and Digger looked after CJ, Rule, Rebel, Ryder, and Ransom.
Christopher rubbed his eyes and smiled at Megan’s love of ‘R’ names. Of babies and pregnancy.
Of him. The thought arrowed straight to his heart, shattering it. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through. After not sleeping a wink since she’d been taken, he didn’t want to wipe out and fuck himself up before he brought her home.
He dug in his pocket and found his smokes. Once he lit up, he took a drag and started pacing. Not having her with him was sheer torture. She had to be alive. As much as he wanted to be there for his chil
dren, he didn’t know how long he’d last without Megan. Right now, he held onto a shred of hope.
But…no one had contacted him with any demands and that alarmed the fuck out of him. On the other hand, he hadn’t received a phone call, taunting him with the location of her…her…Jesus fucking Christ.
Tears stung Christopher’s eyes. He couldn’t finish the sentence. She had to be alive. Case fucking closed.
Losing interest in the cigarette, he walked to the coffee table across the room in their sitting area, and tapped it out in the ashtray, then he heaved in a breath and went to his side of the bed. He didn’t bother to remove his boots, his jacket, his cut, or any of his clothes. All he needed was a nap to refuel. Maybe, some food. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten.
His stomach turned. He wouldn’t hold anything down if he tried. Fuck, food. He wanted his wife.
He laid in his spot, not wanting to move, willing her to be there. Wanting her hands to roam across his back and her lips to skim his skin. Many nights, they slept in the spoon position. Perhaps, that would help tonight?
Keeping his back to the side of the bed she usually slept, Christopher curled in an imitation of spooning. It didn’t make him feel better. He actually felt worse. Megan wasn’t there to fit her body to his and flirt with him. Tell him about her day and ask about his. Her laughter existed only in his head.
He shot into a sitting position and hung his head. Whoever took her from him would die in a slow, painful way. He usually didn’t fuck around with torture. Just kill a motherfucker and be done. They knew what the fuck they did to get fucked up. Why did Christopher have to waste his time reminding them, when the end result would be the same?
But this, this, was something different. This deserved at least twenty hours of cutting. A finger one hour, a toe the next, and so on, until every motherfucking digit was hacked the fuck off. He’d have to stem the blood loss, so they’d survive the whole torture. Then, as he looked the motherfucker in his eyes, Christopher would carve Mystic’s fucking heart out. Motherfucker was doing it to Christopher figuratively.
Death Dwellers Motorcycle Club:: Fifteen Bad Boy Biker Books Page 446