Trip's Retribution (Hell Raiders MC Book 3)

by Lowe, Aden

  After a moment, he excused himself and led Tanya away, only to be stopped again. Every way he turned, suddenly friendly Saxons wanted to chat like a bunch of fucking old women at a church social. And every damn one of them pointedly ignored the pained cries of the woman Buffalo pounded into. At his side, Tanya shook so hard her teeth clicked together.

  Shit. He needed to get them both out of there. His hands trembled with the need to drag the bastard off the poor girl and beat him into the ground, but awareness skittered along his nerve endings. That was exactly what they wanted him to do. Not only would they kill him and Stella, the Hell Raiders would be drawn into a blood feud against a larger club.

  He had to lean way down to whisper in Tanya's ear. "Play along. I have to get the fuck out of here." At her faint nod, he kissed her hard and made a show of dragging her against him.

  A couple of the Saxons nearest them laughed and cheered when he swung her into his arms and carried her toward the door leading to his room. Finally out of the main room, he breathed a sigh of relief.

  Tanya kissed his neck, drawing a hiss from him. "Act like you're into it, we're still being watched." Her low voice quavered with fear.

  Fuck, again. He wouldn't be acting. The feel of her slim frame in his arms like that had his dick hard as a rock. He stopped walking long enough to kiss her again and she responded as if she needed him as badly as he needed her.

  "Here's your room." Her breath tickled along his jaw.

  Safely inside, he put her down and locked the door, then jammed the knife against the frame again. He kept his voice down, aware the walls were likely paper thin. "Sorry, I couldn't think of another way to get out of there. And I had to before I interfered and got myself killed."

  She nodded and reached for his hand. "I know. And now you have to fuck me. Somebody is probably listening in the next room."

  He had to force his voice to stay at a whisper when he wanted to shout with anger. "We'll fake it. I can—"

  "No. You have to do it." The poor girl looked as if she were about to become the virgin sacrifice to some angry god. "If you don't and they figure it out, I'll get more training from Buffalo."

  Trip groaned to keep from puking. He wouldn't wish five minutes with Buffalo on his worst enemy. A girl like Tanya… no. "I'm sorry." Just his fucking luck. Sweet pussy right there for the taking and his damn conscience wouldn't let him enjoy it, all because some bastards had used the girl badly and scared her to death.

  She bit her lip and pulled him toward the bed. Her willingness to go through with it despite her dread spoke volumes. The devil she knew was far worse than the one she didn't.

  The last thing he wanted was to take what she didn't want to give freely. But with the Saxons watching, and the deal with the Hell Raiders resting entirely on their trust of him, what else could he do? Not to mention, if he refused, Buffalo could very well kill her, or throw her to his men to do with as they pleased. And either would probably be preferable to Buffalo's training. Trip had enough bad shit on his conscience without adding that. Besides, his life hung in the balance, too.

  Fffuuuuck! How did he always end up in impossible situations?

  Only one option lay before him. Fuck the girl, but make it as quick and painless for her as possible. Shit. He also had to leave no doubt in anyone's mind that she'd pleased him. That part bothered him. That shy glance of hers had hit him right in the balls, so he wanted her the instant he saw her. And still did. Even with the circumstances, he would enjoy fucking her. Guilt rode him hard, but his dick could put it aside.

  Following her to the bed, he wrapped her into his arms. "Look, if we have to do this, we have to." He needed to reassure her, but didn't have the words. Instead, he stroked along her back in an effort to soothe the quivering muscles. "I'm going to kiss you now, okay?" He waited for her faint nod of acceptance, then dipped his head to taste her mouth again. Earlier, he only had the barest hint of her taste, just enough to know he wanted a hell of a lot more, but he was damned if he'd miss it this time.

  Breath held in case she changed her mind, he brushed his lips across her mouth. She gave a little gasp, probably in fear, but he didn't back off, even when her eyes fluttered closed. Instead, he stroked over her lower lip, and to his surprise, she opened for him as her hands crept up his chest.

  Given time and privacy, Trip would do his utmost to show Tanya at least a little pleasure. They didn't have that luxury, unfortunately. And the demands of his body grew more insistent with every passing second. He deepened the kiss and gathered her closer, absorbing another gasp from her.

  Her curves molded to his hardness, fitting him like a glove. The tremors that wracked her body began to subside and he gave in to the temptation to kiss down her neck. A soft sigh escaped her as she let her head drop back to give him better access. If he didn't know better, Trip would almost think she enjoyed it. Sure, he knew she was faking, probably as a self-preservation reflex, but he couldn't deny the instinct that demanded he linger on that tender skin and elicit more response.

  Her hands slipped to the back of his neck and he followed the impulse to explore her collarbones. The faint whimper she gave as her fingers clutched at his hair sounded so real it almost convinced him, until he recalled the threat hanging over her head. No doubt she had some practice at making men think she liked it.

  All the submission signals she gave appealed to his inner caveman and he moved back to her neck, driven to mark her skin with his possession. Her breath came hard and fast, pushing him to take her mouth again.

  A scream rang out. Alarm skated across his nerves and Trip raised his head, listening intently over the pounding of his pulse. The sound had been slightly muffled, but still loud, and the tone conveyed more rage than fear. Just in case, he drew the .40 from the holster at the small of his back and snatched the knife from the door frame.

  He waited, still catching his breath, for something more. A fight amongst the Saxons could spell big trouble for Stella and him. He glanced at Tanya and took in her lips, swollen from his kisses, and the dark mark he'd left on the soft skin of her neck. No matter how much he'd rather get lost in her, she wasn't immune to infighting in the ranks either, so he had to stay alert.

  An enraged bellow rattled the walls, followed by angry shouts and another scream.

  "Stay here. I'm going to see what's wrong." He pressed the knife handle into her startled grasp. "When I leave, jam this back in the door and get behind the bed. Don't open the door until I come back."

  She nodded, her eyes wide and frightened.

  Chapter Four

  Tanya shook and prayed for Trip to come back safely. Buffalo's anger terrified her, and the rest weren't much better. Trip knew nothing of the violence the Saxons' President acted out during his rages, or that even his biker brothers had learned to avoid his anger. And before she could think to warn Trip, he walked right out into the middle of it.

  Dread closed over her, and she pressed unsteady fingers to her lips trying to make the fear stay back. He had to be okay. He was the first person to show her any sort of kindness since she came to the Saxons. He'd never help her, even if he could, but she needed to know there was at least one person in the world who wasn't like the Saxons. So he had to be okay.

  Her knees collapsed and dumped her on the edge of the bed where he'd been going to fuck her. The possibility that she might not hate it seemed far-fetched. These men knew nothing of gentleness or anything soft. The brutality of their lives spilled over into what should be close and tender. Why should Trip be any different? Still, she couldn't deny he'd made her pulse quicken when he kissed her. And his touch…

  Sounds of chaos rolled down the hall from the club room. Hopefully something had taken Buffalo's attention off the girls. He'd looked as if he were gearing up for a spree, which meant he would rape every female in the clubhouse. They all avoided him, but Tanya and the other girls he owned had less freedom to stay out of his way than the others. She had no sympathy for the hoes and ol' ladies.
They were nearly as bad as the men. But the girls had no choice in any of it. Mostly they tried to huddle together and avoid notice.

  Tanya tried to imagine what might take Buffalo's attention and let the rest of the girls have a moment's safety. Even while she hoped they were all unharmed, she wasn't stupid enough to stick her neck out to try and make sure of it. One lesson they all learned very quickly was not to show any emotion for another person or thing. The second that happened, the owners gained even more power. As much as she needed Trip to be safe, she couldn't put herself out there to try and keep him that way, even if it were possible.

  So she sat there on the bed and waited. If Trip went out there and got himself killed, she would feel sorrow, but it would change nothing in her life. Her gaze flashed to the door, and the blade jammed in the frame. Except she would have a weapon.

  Heart pounding, she lunged for the door and grasped the dark handle of the knife. It refused to yield and tears of frustration welled up. She dragged in a deep breath and used both hands to pull. The blade came loose and she fell on her ass with the sudden release.

  Her heart thundered against her ribs as she tried to fold the blade inside the handle. She needed to hide it quickly, before anyone discovered her. The thing refused to budge, no matter how much force she applied. What the fuck? There had to be a trick. She'd seen it done a million times and it never looked difficult. She stared at it a moment, comparing it to the ones the Saxons carried and used all the time.

  The noise in the club room continued, so maybe she had a little more time. A curved depression near one end on the back of the handle caught her attention. What an odd decoration, especially for such a plain looking knife. She tried to pull a little at the steel inside the curve, but nothing happened.

  Fuck, if she didn't get it closed and hidden fast enough, she'd get caught. She didn't even want to think about what that meant. Safer to just stick it back in the door. So damn close. A disgusted grunt left her lips and her hand tightened around the damn thing.

  The steel moved. Air hissed between her teeth in enlightenment. She pressed her thumb against the metal, pushing it into the curved area. Freed, the blade gave under slight pressure from her other hand. Relief hit her in a knee-weakening wave as she folded the knife.

  She would have to practice with it, until she could open and close it quickly, and that meant privacy. Not easy in the Saxons' clubhouse. But for the moment, it was enough that she had a weapon. All she needed now was a place to hide it until she could come back for it.

  Heavy footsteps raced down the hall past the door, sending her heart into overdrive. She had to hurry, or risk being found with a weapon. A long glance around the room proved what she already knew. Places to hide things were rare. She had to look deeper, beyond the obvious. And she had to do it fast, before Trip, or someone else, came.

  She stood, making a more careful survey of the options. No closet, so that eliminated what might have been a perfect spot. The bed was a no-go. Everyone hid things in beds, so any Saxon would look there first. The nightstand was just a simple four-legged table. Useless.

  The dresser held four small drawers. Only a moment's inspection ruled it out. That left the room itself, and she didn't have much faith in finding the perfect hiding place in the bare concrete floor. Walls or ceiling then.

  Her heart pounded as she picked a random place to start searching. In the corner behind the door, about six inches off the floor, a small part of the wall seemed irregular. She'd have missed it if she hadn't been searching. Heart in her throat, she dropped to her knees and pressed gently at the area. A piece of drywall nearly double the size of her fist swung inward. Shit. She listened carefully for a few seconds, trying to gauge how long things would continue out there. Come on, a few more minutes.

  The air froze in her lungs, but she forced her hand inside the hole, eyes squeezed shut as she imagined her fingers encountering a rat. Or worse. Reaching downward forced her arm into an awkward angle, but she refused to let her fear or discomfort deter her.

  She held her breath until her fingers brushed against dry wood. Nothing. Just the bottom of the wall. Elation soared through her as she placed the knife inside the wall and carefully closed the flap. She took time to check that no sign of her hiding place showed.

  Someone, hopefully a long dead someone, had created the little spot and by some good luck, she found it. Standing there only inches away, she couldn't even see it. The minute she could, Tanya intended to take a closer look, and figure out how to make her own little hidey-hole in the wall. But for now, this one would do. The best part was, no one could really connect it to her if it were discovered. Everyone had access to that room, so it could belong to anyone.

  Things out front seemed a little quieter, probably signaling an end to her time. Tanya took a deep breath and forced the tremor out of her hands. No sign of anxiety or excitement could give away her good luck. She went back to sit on the bed.

  Footsteps approached the door, more than one person, and she fought not to hold her breath in dread. If one of the Saxons came through it, she might die of the fear. A soft tap at the door preceded Trip's voice. "Tanya? It's Trip. Open the door, sugar."

  She swallowed hard and forced her body to obey. If she made him suspicious, he could as easily kill her as look at her, just like any of the others. Men did that kind of thing all the time.

  As soon as the door swung inward, Trip pushed through, another man close on his heels. "Sugar, this is my brother, Stella."

  The frown he wore made her uncomfortable, even if she did sort of like being called Sugar. It was definitely a change up from Bitch.

  The tall surly-looking man with a cigarette clamped tight between his teeth stepped from behind Trip and nodded in her direction, but crossed directly to the dresser and started shoving Trip's stuff back in his bag. The Saxon who searched the room earlier hadn't even tried to hide the fact by repacking Trip's clothing after he dumped it out.

  Trip took her hand, drawing her attention back to him. "We have to leave, now. Tanya, you know nothing about me, and I don't know why you're here, but I don't think you want to be. Leave with me now. I'll keep you safe. No one will touch you without your permission again. You'll have your own place, a job if you want, your own life."

  Tanya stared at him. Her heart dropped to her feet. Big, muscled, tattooed and pierced, this man had no idea the danger he put himself in. Every fiber of her being shouted for her to say yes, to take the chance at freedom he offered so lightly. What would that be like? Every decision had been made for her the last four years, even what and when to eat.

  "What are you waiting for, girl? Yes or no?" The other man scowled in her direction and zipped Trip's duffle bag.

  The tremor started in her fingertips and traveled through every muscle until she shook violently. "I-I can't." Tears spilled over and rolled down her cheeks.

  "Why the fuck not?" Trip's anger made her flinch. "No one will hurt you again, Tanya." His voice gentled, but his eyes still burned.

  "B-buffalo owns me." For the first time, she said the hated words aloud, admitting it somewhere other than in her mind. Her stomach threatened to heave and she swallowed hard.

  Trip's brows shot up, then dropped into a deep frown. "What do you mean, Buffalo owns you?"

  Air refused to inflate her lungs. "I'm a sl-slave. He owns me."

  A savage growl rolled through the room from Stella. "How?"

  The past opened up, ready to suck her back in. She shook her head. No. That old pain would do her no good now. She had to keep it away, like something that happened to someone else. Calmness she didn't feel took over to tell the story. "I was sixteen and knew everything. I ran away from home to live with my boyfriend. He wasn't much but he was better than watching my parents fight day and night. Until he discovered meth, anyway. He started selling it, just to feed his habit. When he needed more than he earned, he fell behind. One day he came in with two bikers and told me to go with them."

  Trip
cursed and bared his teeth. "He paid the debt off with you."

  He hadn't asked, but she nodded anyway. "Yeah. The other girls out there, the ones he offered you, got here different ways, but it's the same for them."

  "How long have you been here?"

  "Four years." She brushed at the stupid tears rolling down her cheeks. She couldn't allow herself to cry for the things that had been taken from her. Otherwise…

  "Come with us. We'll get you out of here."

  Despite the hope that soared through her heart, she shook her head. "I can't. Buffalo doesn't give up what belongs to him. If you ask, he'll just punish me."

  "I didn't intend to ask."

  Horror shot through her. "If you steal me, he'll come for you. And he won't stop." The damn tears started again. "He's done it before. One of the girls' boyfriend came for her and took her away. Buffalo hunted them down. It took the boyfriend a long time to die and they forced him to watch as they all raped her, over and over. I won't go with you." As much as she hoped what he said about keeping her safe might be true, she couldn't push those images out of her head. Dread swallowed her whole as she remembered how that other girl died.

  "Tanya, please, you can't stay here. I won't let him get you. You'll be safe." Trip reached for her but she pulled back.

  "No! I can't." She shuddered with fear and disgust. "Don't you get it? By even saying it, you're putting my life and yours in danger. Mine might not be much, but it's all I have left. And I won't ask someone else to risk theirs." Wheeling, she raced from the room and down the hall. She finally found herself in the room she shared with the other girls when they were allowed to sleep somewhere other than in a biker's bed. No one was there and she burrowed into the threadbare blanket she used. She had no other place to go, no comfort to seek, even while her heart shattered into a million pieces.