by Bethany-Kris
“And Dad?”
“Angry,” Lucian answered honestly. “Probably will be for days. Lay off the liquor for a while so he doesn’t have something close to focus it on.”
In typical Gio fashion, he rolled his eyes. “Whatever.”
“Seriously, don’t give him something else to be pissed off about right now, Gio. These fucking cafones in here are more than enough.”
Gio nodded towards the sink. “You done?”
“Yeah.”
Outside of the bathroom, Lucian took note of the EXIT sign flickering with faint life at the end of the darkened hallway. The metal door it hung over was jammed open with what looked like a phonebook, keeping it from closing and locking, probably. Lucian was curious if that was where Jordyn had gone earlier.
“What are you looking at?” Gio asked.
Even with his brother’s question, Lucian was sure there was noise coming from outside that door.
“Do you hear that, Gio?”
“Hear what?”
Lucian jerked his thumb towards the exit door. “Listen, man.”
Sure enough, under the hum of the crappy music and the faint sound of voices, there was a cry. It was low but filled with terror. Clearly female. Only a brief moment passed before another higher shout from a male responded.
Lucian didn’t even think about it. He was practically running down the remainder of the hallway, crossing the distance in large strides in what felt like milliseconds. Gio was fast on his brother’s heels, not questioning Lucian’s motives at all.
The metal door slammed open under Lucian’s palm with a bang. At the same time, the Eagle Lucian had kept tucked in the back of his dress pants was firmly seated in his free hand, the safety clicking off and the hammer pulling back in one swift motion.
The gun, his most trusted and favorite of the many weapons Lucian had, was eleven inches long from back to barrel. With brushed chrome, it shined under any light. Just the size alone was frightening. The weight of the gun, if someone didn’t know how to handle it properly, could weigh down any man’s grip.
Not Lucian.
Instantly, the barrel of Lucian’s Eagle met the temple of a man he recognized as being one of the bouncers at the front of the strip club that let them in earlier without checking. In the man’s one hand was Jordyn’s throat. His other hand was between her thighs, touching parts of her body he clearly wasn’t allowed to be feeling. By the look of fear and revulsion in Jordyn’s eyes, she didn’t want his hand there, either.
The blues of Jordyn’s eyes were filled with tears, a redness creeping in over her face. The bouncer was holding much too tightly to her throat. She probably couldn’t breathe properly. It hurt Lucian to see a woman, especially this one, in that position.
“Remove your goddamn hands from her body,” Lucian said, a darkness creeping into his tone.
The man laughed. “Fuck you, pretty boy. This isn’t your business here or your place. Step off.”
“Let me explain what this weapon will do to you. From this range, it will remove over half of your skull and face. It will turn your brain to mush. They will not recognize you after I kill you. They will be cleaning your matter from this alley for months because that’s all that will be left of your head. When the bullet rips into you, it will toss your body ten feet from mine. I’m sure death will be instantaneous, unfortunately, but it’ll be awfully fun for me to pull the trigger.”
Lucian pressed the barrel harder to the man’s head. “Go on, keep touching her. Piss me off more. Make my night a little bit better. Maybe I’ll have my brother blow your kneecaps out before I turn your face into a mass of bloody goo.”
“You wouldn’t make it out of here alive, Mafioso.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Lucian bared his teeth and growled a sound that came from somewhere in the back of his throat. He didn’t recognize it. He’d never made a noise like that before. Frankly, nothing had ever pissed him off quite like this man hurting Jordyn did.
Jordyn choked. “Let me go, Chaz.”
“Now she’s asked for you to let her go, so I suggest you do,” Lucian said.
Chaz’s grip loosened slightly, but he glared hatefully at Jordyn without even bothering to consider Lucian or the threat he posed. “Doesn’t matter anyway, chica. We’re all gonna see it and have it whether you want to give it up or not. Club Property, Jord. No one’s gonna save your ass after tonight. Got that? It’s all you are now. Club Property.”
With that, Chaz released her throat and removed his hand from between her thighs. Lucian dropped his gun to his side, but made sure his shoulder hit the man’s as he passed.
“Don’t touch her again,” Lucian threatened. “Ever.”
Again, Chaz laughed. “Club Property, pretty boy.”
The door didn’t close behind the bouncer as Gio was there to keep it open. With a single glance at his brother, Gio got the point and let the door close, but Lucian knew he was waiting for a knock to let his brother back in.
“You okay?” Lucian asked, turning back to Jordyn.
The girl was holding her neck with one hand, tears beginning to spill over her cheeks. Splotches of reddish color had saturated her face and throat as she gasped in a lungful of air.
“Hey, it’s all right,” he said when she didn’t answer. “Bastard is gone.”
“No, it’s not!”
Lucian jerked away from Jordyn as if she slapped him. “Excuse me?”
Anger flit over her pretty features as she stood toe to toe with him. “Why would you do that? Christ, do you even know what you just did?”
“Saved you from being raped?”
“From Chaz?” Jordyn spat out a laugh, bitter and dark. “That fool has been chasing after me since I was sixteen. I’m not worried about him. I can handle his dumb ass.”
Lucian frowned. The scene he walked in on was not one that looked to be in her benefit.
“I’m not going to apologize,” he told Jordyn.
“It wouldn’t make a difference if you did,” she retorted hotly. “Now, I have to explain why some Mafioso is chasing after me.”
Chasing after her?
“What?”
“Like you were being discreet in there?” Jordyn asked sarcastically. “Staring at me and touching me? That might be fine and great in your world, but here, that’s not okay. It’s just not! Those guys, they think of us girls like we’re their property and you … You know what, never mind. Get out of here. Maybe I can save what bit of safety I might have left.”
Lucian didn’t have a clue what she was going on about, but it didn’t sound entirely good. “Is that what you need, sweetheart, safety?”
“What I need is for you to go.”
“But—”
“Go,” Jordyn repeated fiercely. “Before something else you do leaves me in even more trouble.”
If that’s what she wanted, that’s what he’d do. Not that he particularly liked it. Lucian turned on his heel and rapped his knuckles on the door. Gio opened it immediately, a silent question passing from brother to brother.
Lucian nodded towards the hall. “Let’s go.”
When the door closed behind them, the phonebook blocking it from locking completely, Lucian let out a heavy breath of air.
“You good?” Gio asked.
“Club Property,” Lucian said, fixing his gun. “What’s that mean?”
“Just like it sounds,” his brother answered. “Property of the Club.”
Lucian’s head jerked up, eyes narrowing. “As a whole?”
“As in all, yeah. You didn’t know that?”
No, he hadn’t.
Chapter Six
Jordyn wrapped the thin blanket tighter around her shoulders. She wasn’t cold, but she needed some form of comfort. Something to hold tight and keep her warm. All she seemed to feel now was alone.
It’d been four days since the Marcello family showed up at Legs, making the scene they had. Jordyn hadn’t even bothered to go to w
ork after, even though the place was open for business every day of the week. She was well aware of how much trouble she was probably in. At least she called in, they had to give her that. Although, she wasn’t entirely sure how much Ron believed her sick excuse.
Jordyn barely managed to scrape through the last week without having to strip. Will was still hiding out somewhere, so she hoped making her life miserable was the last thing on his mind currently.
Knowing him, it probably wasn’t.
Once Chaz had spit at Jordyn that she was now Club Property, she was all too aware of what that meant. The protection she once had from Gabe, his mark on her body and his status within the club, was gone. Chaz might have been nothing more than a low level member of the MC, but he was more likely to have that inside information before Jordyn did.
The last thing Jordyn wanted was to turn out like those other girls. High all of the time, being used for whatever purpose a man seen fit, and walking on their last legs. The life they thought they wanted or were going to have was not what it turned out to be.
“Is that what you need, sweetheart, safety?”
Jordyn almost wondered what would have happened if she said yes. Could Lucian have provided her with that? Probably not. If she was property, that’s all she was. Something to be owned. There was no bartering or a price for her, the guys simply took what they wanted when they wanted it. And like Chaz said, if she didn’t give it up willingly, they’d take it anyway.
What kind of a man would want a woman with that crap hanging over her?
I hate you, Mom, Jordyn thought brokenly.
It was entirely Sandra’s fault for putting her daughter in this situation and leaving her here to deal with it alone. That anger had to go somewhere. At least Jordyn felt like she was doing something useful with it this way, considering there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to the club.
Run, something whispered inside.
Sure. Jordyn could try to run, but how long would that last? Other girls had tried before. Some lasted only months, others years. Eventually, though, it came to an end. Someone who knew someone who knew someone else might have caught sight of the girl, even if it was states away. The club tracked them down every damn time.
It was always worse when they had to come and find you.
Jordyn shuddered at the thought, never mind the memories.
Once a girl was caught, she could expect punishment for her actions. No one was to run. The club was for life.
Punishment usually involved violence and public shaming. It was always done in front of the entire club, the women of the men included. She’d seen girls beat within an inch of their life, then once they were bloodied and bruised, they were just used by the men they ran from.
Jordyn wouldn’t give them that.
The best hope a girl could have being nothing more than property of the club was to become too old or worn for the guys. A female they didn’t want because she’d already been had a dozen times over. Usually those girls were so screwed up on drugs they didn’t even care what happened to them at that point. Once that happened, she was eventually forgotten.
The damage, however, was already done.
Unfortunately, Jordyn was a shiny new toy. Some of the MC members had been looking at her for years. Their very open comments were more than enough of an indication of what they’d like to do to her if ever given the chance.
Jordyn felt sick.
At least her excuse for work wasn’t a complete lie.
The ringing of Jordyn’s cell phone jerked her back into reality. She fumbled to reach for the device and answer it before it went to voicemail.
“Hello?”
“Jord?”
Jordyn’s brow furrowed at the female voice, but knew exactly who it was. A stripper at Legs who went by Ruby because of her flaming red hair. She also happened to be an old lady for one of the MC members, and stripped because she enjoyed dancing. Why she was calling Jordyn’s phone was a mystery.
“Ruby, hey. Does Ron have you calling to check up on me, or what?”
The girl tried to laugh, but the sound was awkward and filled with tension. “Jord, listen. Uh, this is kind of important, okay. I was at the club with Donnie, just to pick up some stuff. Will was there, and he’s not happy. Really, really not happy, Jord. So, um, he’s coming to you.”
Jordyn froze. “What?”
“He’s coming to see you with a couple of guys,” Ruby said quickly. “And I’m sorry, but I have to go. Donnie told me not to call and he’d kick my ass if he knew. I gotta go.”
“Wait!” Jordyn shouted into the phone, practically leaping off the couch. “What time was he coming?”
“Like, now? Or he was, ten minutes ago. I’m already gone and they were getting ready. I’m sorry, but I really have to go.”
The phone call cut off as Ruby hung up. Frantically, Jordyn glanced around her apartment wondering if there was something she could do to save herself from what was about to happen. Her apartment was only a twenty minute walk from the club and maybe ten minutes driving. That didn’t afford her a whole lot of time.
She briefly thought of the revolver that had once been her mother’s hidden in her bedroom closet, but knew it wouldn’t do much good. Jesus, she hadn’t even cleaned the thing in years because she didn’t know how and never felt a need to use it. Ruby had specified more than one man was coming. All of them carried their own weapons.
If anything, waving a gun would only piss them off more.
It didn’t matter.
Outside of her shitty apartment building equipped with locks on the main entrances that didn’t even work, Jordyn could hear the unmistakable rumble of motorcycles. At least four. Panic welled like a poison, but she was frozen in place. Vomit threatened to rise from her stomach, but she forced it back.
There was absolutely nothing she could do. Call the police, she’d risk having more retribution later on. Run, they’d no doubt catch her before she even got outside of the building.
Scream, and it would only be a hell of a lot worse.
What she could do, however, was control herself. Jordyn swallowed back her fear, sat down on the couch once more, and turned on her television to a music channel. At least the noise would muffle some of the yelling and whatever else. No need to scare the rest of the people on her floor, not that it would help.
The kind of neighborhood she lived in was not one that would involve police.
She silently wished she had popped a Xanax with her orange juice that morning. It might have made this situation easier.
Not five minutes later, loud bangs pounded on her door. Jordyn ignored it. Will called her name once, following it with something degrading as he usually did, and then proceeded to demand she open the door or he’d do it for her.
Go ahead, she thought, suddenly calmer than before.
Maybe in the short time period of hearing the motorcycles and the men coming in on her apartment, Jordyn realized there were only so many things they could really do to her. Hurt her, sure. Scar her, definitely. Take things that weren’t theirs to have, yeah. The thing was, those realities didn’t scare her, not really. Jordyn had long since learned that was a fact of life. In one way or another, what you had and held dear was eventually taken away.
The only thing Will couldn’t take from Jordyn was her mind, her spirt, and her strength.
Those were all hers.
He couldn’t ruin them if she didn’t let him.
Jordyn didn’t flinch when her apartment door was kicked open. She simply dropped the remote to the table and sighed. The landlord, as shoddy as he was, wouldn’t be impressed by that.
“What’d I tell you, bitch?” Will asked, his words melting together in a slur.
Jordyn stood, watching the four men file into her apartment and half-assed close her door. Or as good as it could get, considering they’d broken part of the frame. She didn’t bother to consider the other guys, or who they were. Likely a bunch of Will’s lackeys, and nobody
too important. Instead, she focused entirely on Will.
The man was disgusting, as he’d always been. A good fifty pounds overweight, in need of a serious shave, and a lack of personal hygiene that showed on every inch of his skin. Also, Jordyn was positive the man was drunk, high, or a mixture of both.
Not a good sign when it wasn’t even noon.
“Morning, Will,” Jordyn said quietly, offering him a sweet smile she knew would only piss him off.
“Where’ve you been, huh?” Will demanded loudly, spit spewing from his mouth. “Ron says you haven’t been working, you ain’t been dancing, and I got a bouncer bitchin’ about some bastard shoving a gun in his face for trying to take what you should be giving, anyway.”
The other three men circled Jordyn, but she didn’t move away. With their arms crossed and dark eyes watching her, she knew it would be pointless to try.
“Is that what you’re doing now when you ain’t working, babe?” Will waved at her with one hand, his other coming down to unbuckle the large leather belt with metal studs he wore. That one action was the only thing Jordyn might have showed an ounce of fear for. “Hanging out with Italian scum, letting the mafia boys fuck you when you won’t even let a club man touch you?”
Jordyn licked her lips, trying to find words that might help, but coming up with nothing. “I don’t know those men.”
“You’re lying,” Will growled. “Heard my boys talking about how much the one seemed to like you, and how much attention he was paying to you. Is that what you want, to be some little fucking mafia princess? An Italian’s whore?”
The sound of Will’s belt sliding out of the denim loops was daunting.
Suddenly, every one of Jordyn’s muscles seemed to react at once. She would take a beating from this man, let him degrade her and call her whatever names he wanted. But he would not touch her—certainly not rape her.
Jordyn turned to run, though she wasn’t sure where. There was a man in every direction, and Will was only three feet away from her.
It didn’t make a difference. She didn’t get far.