REIGN: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel

by Jackson, Meg

  “You’re gonna have to say more than that, doll,” Gunner said from behind the camera. I shot him a glance and then looked back to the camera.

  “Hi, Dad. It’s, uh, it’s me, Serena. I’ve been kidnapped and, uh, I guess they need money, so, like, can you, uh, pay them?” Gunner looked at me from behind the camera, one eyebrow raised. He pushed a button on the camera again and the red light disappeared.

  “You gotta do better than that, honey. Come on, say something nice to your father,” he said. I tried to think of the last time my father and I had said something nice to each other. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d told him I loved him, or the last time he told me he loved me.

  “I don’t know if I can,” I admitted, looking down at my lap.

  “You better find a way, doll,” Gunner said. I looked up at him and was surprised to see sympathy on his face.

  “My dad and I…we don’t uh…we don’t really get along too well,” I said shyly. I was amazed at myself for opening up to him so candidly; I’d never really spoken to anyone about my relationship with my father before. His face softened as he looked at me.

  “You’re not the only one, doll. But we think your Daddy will warm up to the situation if he could hear you…”

  “But I don’t love him, and I don’t care about him!” I said, interrupting him. I bit my lip after the outburst, surprised to hear myself speak the words, and even more surprised that this would be the situation that caused me to speak them. Here, in this dingy, dirty, tiny little room where I was being held captive, I was finally faced with something I’d tried to avoid all my life.

  “You don’t mean that. I thought that too, one time. But you gotta understand, you feel that way now, but it’s different when they’re gone. You love him. He’s your father,” Gunner said. He looked slightly pained as he spoke, as though he were remembering something. It made me curious. He looked down for a moment, then back up at me.

  “Besides, you ain’t got no reason to hate him. He’s given you damn near everything you wanted, hasn’t he, princess?” Gunner’s tone was different now, colder, and his eyes looked hard and angry.

  “So what? Having stuff doesn’t make you happy, you know,” I said back, my own anger rising.

  “You just don’t know how bad you have it. So Daddy didn’t give you enough hugs as a kid? Some of us wish our Daddy’s never touched us at all,” he retorted, and I could see the rage in his eyes. He suddenly pulled up at the bottom of his shirt; I saw a thick, red scar across his lean, muscled torso. I stared at it for a moment until he pulled his shirt down.

  “Did…what happened?” I asked, unable to keep the question from my lips. I wasn’t sure what was going on; was this some kind of weird therapy session? I could tell that Gunner was just as taken aback as I was by his actions; he looked down at the camera, a puzzled look on his face.

  “I don’t…I don’t know why I did that. Forget it. Just look at the camera. And try to say something nice,” he said, not meeting my eyes. The red light came on again and I pulled my eyes away from Gunner towards the lens. Gathering my wits, I tried to think of what to say that would please him.

  “Hi, Daddy, I’m really afraid and I want to come home. I’m sorry about everything. Please help me. I…I need your help,” I said, quickly. I couldn’t bring myself to say that I loved him, and I needed to get it over with fast, before I lost my nerve and clammed up again. I looked to Gunner, who was still looking down.

  “Is that okay?” I asked. Gunner shot me a brief glance before turning off the camera.

  “It’ll have to do,” he said roughly. He strode over to me, scissors in hand. Before I could even process what was happened, I felt the ties on my wrists and ankles released. I flexed my limbs, more grateful than I’d ever been to have control over my body again. I was keenly aware, though, of how close Gunner was standing to me.

  Looking up at him, I could feel his eyes travelling over my body before falling on my face. He had a strange, confused look. He reached out, gingerly, and pushed some of my hair away from my face. His touch felt surprisingly warm and gentle, and it made my heart pound a little faster. I was aware, again, of the nagging feeling of attraction that I’d been burying underneath my anger. I knew nothing about him, and in fact, I had every reason to squirm away from his touch, but something inside me wanted…more.

  Then, Gunner grabbed a section of my hair and quickly snipped it off. I broke away from him at that point, jarred out of my daze by the snipping sound. Gunner stood up straight, looking down on me.

  “Seeing how things go, we might have you make another little video tomorrow. Until then, eat up. You’ll get breakfast in the morning, but nothing else tonight. Sorry, just that no one will be around to feed you,” he said, an apologetic tint to his voice.

  Then he turned around quickly; I noticed the insignia on the back of his vest for the first time then. It was a picture of a snake’s hissing face surrounded by thorns; above the face were the words “Rattlesnake MC.” I noticed, too, the same insignia was tattooed on Gunner’s forearm, above the wrist. He picked up the tripod and vanished out the door without another word spoken between us.

  ~ 5 ~

  What the hell just happened? Why in God’s name did I show her that scar, say those things? This is just a job – a very, very, fucking good-paying job – what the hell is wrong with me? I keep looking at her and seeing…Jesus, what am I even thinking? She’s just a dumb little rich girl. She could never…stop it. Just stop it. In a few days we’ll get the call to bring her home and that’ll be done with. I’ll never see her again. Out of sight, out of mind. Stop thinking about her legs. Stop thinking about her eyes. Stop thinking about her lips. Stop…thinking…about…her.

  ~ 6 ~

  The next day, I was awoken by someone new. A tall, fat, older man was holding a plate of eggs and toast in the doorway; he entered the room and set them down in front of the mattress, where I was just getting my bearings.

  “Eat up, buttercup,” the man said with a dirty grin. I scowled up at him and didn’t touch the food. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich lay untouched on the plate from the night before. “Aww, you gotta keep your energy up somehow, darling. And going on hunger strike ain’t gonna do nothing for ya anyway. Not here.”

  “My name is Serena,” I spat back at him. I contemplated, for a split second, making a run for it. But looking at the gigantic man, I knew I’d make it about two steps off the mattress before I was caught and tied up again. My limbs were still sore from being tied. I didn’t want to go through that again. And, I thought, this couldn’t last much longer. No matter how much I pissed Dad off, he’d never leave me in here.

  “Suit yourself, Serena,” the man said. I recognized his voice, then, as the other man who had been in the car. Ace. He turned and walked towards the door.

  “Have you…have you heard from my Dad?” I asked, realizing that this might be my only time to get information. Ace didn’t stop walking, but called back to me over his shoulder.

  “Nope,” was all he said before letting the door slam shut behind him. I stared at the two plates of food. My stomach hurt from hunger, but I couldn’t imagine actually eating anything these monsters gave me.

  One of the worst things was the boredom. There was nothing to watch. Nothing to read. No way to tell time. Just…total nothing. I counted sheep, trying to sleep away the hours. I tried to recite song lyrics to myself. I tried to remember the plots of movies. I tried lots of things. But I was still bored.

  Which probably explains why I was actually happy to see Gunner come in with the camera again that day. It was, at least, something to do. He set the camera up in silence, then moved towards me, throwing me a newspaper.

  “We’re doing another one. Don’t worry about making a speech. Just…don’t worry about it,” he said. He was acting very distant, much less friendly than he’d been before. I wondered if he was upset about the day before, then realized I didn’t need to wonder about the motivations
of a lunatic biker dude who’d kidnapped me. The red light came on the camera and I held the newspaper up, looking straight at the lens. The red light turned off.

  “That’s good enough,” he said, walking towards me to retrieve the paper.

  “Wait, please, can you leave it? I’m so bored in here,” I said, looking up at him. He hesitated for a moment.

  “Yeah, well, I guess it could get dull. I don’t see why not.” His eyes flicked down towards the plates of food. “You’re not eating.”

  “Do you really expect me to?” My response made Gunner smirk slightly.

  “I guess you’re right. You might get hungry though. You never know,” he said. He lingered, not saying anything, just looking at me.

  “So…what is this anyway? You guys are like a gang?” Gunner scratched at his short hair, studying me. I was making conversation simply because I knew once he left, it would be just me and the newspaper for the next however many hours.

  “You could say that. We provide certain…services. We stick together. We’re a family,” he said candidly.

  “I…I wish I had more of a family,” I said, blindly trying to keep the conversation going.

  “Yeah, well, you got money, don’t you? Just buy yourself a family,” Gunner replied with a smirk.

  “That’s not really how it works,” I said, looking down.

  “Well, I guess I know that. Where’s your Ma at?” I was thankful that Gunner seemed interested in talking, but curious about his intentions.

  “She did when I was really young. Dad never remarried. All I’ve got…all I’ve got is Juliana…do you know how she is?” I’d been trying not to think about what could have happened to her – looking at Gunner’s tough exterior, it wasn’t beyond belief that he would have done something…unspeakable to her.

  “Don’t worry. Your little maid is just fine. We didn’t rough her up no more than a cut on her head. In fact, Juliana is probably with your Dad right now. We told her, in no uncertain terms, to go straight to him – no police, no nothing. She seemed pretty willing to follow orders, once we told her what we’d do to you. For a maid, she cares a lot about you.”

  “She’s my only friend,” I admitted, looking up at Gunner shyly.

  “Poor little rich girl,” he said, picking up the tripod. “Eat something. It’s not gonna make it any better for you being hungry.” He shot me a final glance before turning to leave.

  “What you said yesterday, about your father,” I said quickly, not even thinking, just desperate for him to stay a little while longer, “I’m sorry. That sounds rough.” Gunner stopped but didn’t look back.

  “It made me who I am today. I’m grateful,” he said roughly before opening the door and disappearing into the blinding light of the summer day outside.

  The next day, the same things happened. Ace came, bearing breakfast, followed by Gunner with the camera. A newspaper, the red light. We talked again. Longer, this time. I told him about growing up in Manhattan and how lonely it could be. He said that being part of his group was what gave him strength and purpose. It wouldn’t matter what they did, as long as they were together. I told him about Juliana. He told me a story about crashing his motorcycle on the highway. Then he left, and I was alone again, trying to sleep and reading the paper, waiting for another day.

  That’s how it was every day for the next three days. Every day, Gunner came in, filmed me holding the paper, and we’d talk. He’d taken to sitting on the chair he’d brought his first day. We’d talk about nothing, mostly, but I savored every moment, because it meant I wasn’t alone.

  And as much as I hated Gunner for keeping me locked up, I was also starting to enjoy his company. He was funny, and smarter than his poor vocabulary would have you believe. And he listened – he listened very well. The third day, he brought in a bucket of water and a sponge and said I should wash up after he left.

  “Haven’t you…don’t you know when this will all be over?” I asked him that day as the conversation came to an end. I felt comfortable asking at that point; we’d shared a surprising amount with each other. But as soon as I asked, his eyes grew cold. Staring at me, he shook his head.

  “It’s over when I tell you it’s over,” he said. His voice was harsh. I felt myself shrinking inside, more hurt from his tone of voice than what he’d actually said. It wasn’t until after he’d left that I started asking myself questions: had Dad not sent the money? What was everyone waiting for? When would this be over?

  I started to wash myself with the water he’d brought in; it felt amazing to clean myself off after five days in a dirty room in the full heat of summer. The questions dissolved as I cleaned myself up, feeling like a real person again for the first time in days.

  ~ 7 ~

  “You spend a little longer in there with her every day, Gunner,” Ace noted when Gunner returned to the bar. They both looked out towards the shed where Serena was being kept.

  “Yeah, well, we wanna return her in good health. That means mental health, too. You can’t keep someone in solitary like that. Not a spoiled little girl like her, anyway. She’d break like a china doll.” Ace narrowed his eyes as Gunner spoke. They were alone in the bar, the rest of the Rattlesnakes off on a ride.

  “Just don’t you go getting your heart mixed up. Few days now, she’s going home to her Daddy and you’re staying right here. She’s a pretty thing, sure, but she ain’t pretty enough to get you all heartbroken when she leaves,” Ace said. Gunner turned to him quickly and shot him a glance that meant business.

  “You don’t go around telling me what to do, Ace. I didn’t become president here for nothing. I know what I’m doing,” Gunner growled. Ace threw his hands up in surrender.

  “Just some advice from an old man.”

  Gunner stared off at the shed. He could feel his heart tightening as he thought about releasing Serena, sending her back to her lonely life in the city. Losing her. The pain of the thought turned quickly to anger. Who was she to make him feel any kind of way? Just some bratty little bitch with a fat wallet. She had no claim on his heart.

  ~ 8 ~

  The next day, things were different when Gunner came in with the camera. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t talking, he just threw the paper at me, turned the camera on, and then turned the camera off. As he picked up the tripod, I stood up.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked, wondering if things had somehow gone sour in the situation, if it meant something…dangerous for me.

  “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, making his way towards the door.

  “Is it my father? Did something happen?” I asked desperately, needing something to go on. He dropped the tripod and spun around, staring daggers at me.

  “There ain’t nothing wrong. I told you that. Don’t ask me questions. You ain’t in charge here,” he growled, anger emanating from him. I withdrew slightly, then felt my own will push me forward.

  “You know, you don’t have to be so mean like this. I don’t know what happened between yesterday and now, but…” I was in the middle of speaking when Gunner rushed me. I screamed as his body hit mine, sending me backwards towards the wall; I had no choice but to fall backwards towards it.

  Gunner slammed me against the wall, hard enough to make the metal shelves quiver slightly. He grabbed my wrists in one time and held them above my head as I struggled; his face was inches away from mine, and I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.

  I could also feel the heat radiating off his tight, muscled body as he grabbed my hip to stop me from struggling. Looking into his eyes, which were clouded over with anger, I felt that wild, raw desire throbbing in the back of my head once again. Not wanting to bring myself to admit it, I took the opposite route by spitting in his face.

  “What are you going to do now, hurt me?” I spat. Gunner was unimpressed by my bravado; he let go of my hip just for a moment, to wipe my spit away from his face. When he put his hand back to still me as I fought, I realized (with disdain) that I’d missed the feeling of his skin
against mine in the brief lapse.

  “I don’t need to hurt you, doll. I don’t need to do a damn thing to you. I just need your Daddy’s money. That’s all I need you for, all I want you for, and once I get it you can go back to your rich bitch lifestyle,” he said in a low, grumbling voice. Despite myself, I felt my heart falling as he spoke.

  I was enraged, of course, by the whole situation, but I’d hoped, somewhere deep down in myself where I could barely even admit it to myself, that Gunner might feel something more for me than just being his captive for ransom.

  I turned my face away but he showed no signs of releasing me, even though I’d stopped struggling. I could feel his body pressed against mine and noticed with alarm that I could feel a hard bulge against my flesh. The feeling frightened me, but it also incited that strange desire that I’d been trying to fight. I felt my heart begin to speed as he remained close to me, the feeling of his breath tickling my neck, my body responding to the sizable hardness I could feel against my thighs.