by Deja Voss
If anyone is going to punish Annabella, it’s going to be me.
“Good call,” Decker says. “Bitch won’t get too far if she takes off running, and nobody’s gonna hear her scream.”
I’m glad I don’t have to justify my choice to him. Keeping all this shit that got dumped on me in the last twenty-four hours from my brothers makes me feel like the lowest of low. I’m a fucking traitor right now, and it’s all because this woman in the backseat is driving me insane.
I wish I didn’t like the sight of her all tied up like that so much. Her makeup all streaked, her hair all wild. I know I can’t trust her, and maybe that’s what makes her so exciting.
She’s going to be a thorn in my side, and I’m going to love every fucking minute of it.
I haven’t felt like myself in a long time, but something about her bound in the backseat of the van makes me come alive again. I know it’s fucking sick. I get to be the one who protects her and the one who breaks her. I get to be the one that rips her down to the studs and figures out exactly what kind of hidden treasures she has inside.
I pull up my long driveway, carefully swerving around the massive ruts in the road. She hasn’t so much as made a peep since Decker took the gag out of her mouth, and I don’t like it. It looks like all the fight has drained out of her perfect body. I’ll do whatever I have to to get it back.
I wonder where Kid found this woman, what secrets the two of them hold. It burns me inside thinking the two of them have something. I want whatever that is. It’s mine.
I try to hide the smile on my face as I park the van in front of my house. I don’t need Decker knowing what’s going on in my mind. I need to get rid of him as quickly as possible before he catches on.
He jumps out the van and unzips his pants and starts pissing all over the maple tree in my front yard.
I open the back door of the van and lean over her quivering body. “Welcome home,” I taunt. She doesn’t make a peep. Her eyes are filled with hatred, her face wet with tears, and the prospect of licking them off her makes me halfway hard.
“What do you want me to do?” Decker asks, coming up behind me.
“Call Driller and see how he’s making out at the hospital,” I suggest. “See if there’s any word on Stoney.”
He pulls his cellphone out of his pocket and starts dialing numbers.
“If I untie you and you run, you’re not gonna make it very far, Annabella,” I say. It’s at least ten miles to the first main road, and the night is closing in quick. One wrong turn in the woods and she’s at the mercy of not just Decker but whatever wild animals might be looking for an easy dinner.
I slash the bindings from her wrists with my knife, and her arms just fall to her sides. I slash the tape around her ankles, and she still just lays there looking up at the ceiling, almost as if I don’t even exist.
“I need to get downtown,” Decker says.
“Hear that?” I whisper in her ear. “It’s just you and me, babe. Alone. Unless you got some random thug in the bushes who’s gonna knock me out.”
Her face contorts into a pained frown as I heft her over my shoulder.
“Don’t think I forgot about that, Bella,” I growl, tightening my hand into her back. I could do anything I wanted to right now. Her perfect ass is right below my hand, her tits pressing into my chest. She doesn’t so much as move, just hangs there limp.
That doesn’t do anything for me, though. I want her to want it. Want her to beg for it. Nothing about this rag doll persona does it for me.
“Keep me in the loop,” I shout to Decker as he hops in the driver’s side of the van and takes off. My mind is so far away I don’t even really think about the chaos going on down below, the destruction she caused. I know I should be worried about Stoney’s life, but little does this woman know, she did us all a favor. Decker and the other guys might not see it, but I do.
“He’s gone now,” I say as the sound of the wheels on the gravel grows more and more distant. “You can cut the bullshit and start talking.”
I unlock the front door and step inside, setting her to the ground. Her legs wobble as she catches her balance. I don’t know why but I feel like a powerful hunter who just brought back a prized trophy. I can’t stop staring at her. She turns her head, avoiding my gaze as I circle her body. Her skin is covered in goosebumps and she looks incredibly naked without her t-shirt on. Vulnerable. Mine. At least, by the time I’m done with her, she will be.
“Where do you want to start?” I ask her. “You want to tell me what the hell is going on?”
She hangs her head, and I catch her chin in my hand, tracing the line of her neck with my fingers. “You’re shy now?”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” she says softly.
“Tell me one thing first.” I squeeze her neck a little tighter, but she doesn’t even react. “Tell me how you know Kid.”
She shakes her head in defiance, the fight coming back into her eyes. “That’s none of your business,” she says.
“Oh, honey, it’s all my business now. You play stupid games, you get stupid prizes. You fuck with my club, you get tangled up in the MC, you get all this, all the time,” I say with a wink. “You might not know this, but Kid put me on a mission, too. A mission to keep your sassy ass safe. He didn’t give me any rules through.”
“I have to pee,” she says, unenthusiastically. Like I’m a nobody. A nothing. Like I can’t even rattle her. I’m going to, though.
“Ask nicely, kitten,” I say.
“I’ll just fucking go in my pants,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“Whatever gets you off. I’m not into that shit, but I’m not here to judge you.”
I stand there and stare her in the eye. Her nostrils flare. It’s pretty fucking adorable. My jeans get a little tighter.
“Please, may I use the bathroom, Ransom,” she finally says, like she’s cursing me out in some foreign language. I laugh.
“I think you should call me daddy,” I say with a shrug. “Has a nice ring to it.”
“Well, I think you should go fuck yourself,” she says, licking her lips. I can see in her eyes she’s purposely pushing me. I can tell by the way she hoists back her shoulders and pouts her lips. It takes everything in me not to claim that gorgeous mouth.
This girl is going to be the fucking death of me, even though she’s bringing me back to life. This girl is gonna get me in a world of trouble, and I don’t even care anymore.
16
Annabella
The way he stares at me feels like a million fingers on my body. Something about those dark eyes, that jacked jaw, the permanent sneer on his face. Being under his gaze makes me feel vulnerable in the most uncomfortable way.
Like my body is deceiving my brain.
His house is super nice, and everything smells like fresh sawdust and cedar. I can tell by the tape around the edge of the finish on the walls, the place is under construction. I can’t seem to snap the idea out of my mind of him all sweaty with a paint roller, the way his abs probably ripple as he leans into the wall. I need to snap myself out of this nonsense real fast if I’m going to make a break.
“Really?” I ask as he stands in the doorway of the bathroom, leaning into the door and propping it open with his arm. He’s smarter than I took him for. I figured I could at the very least start plotting my escape. This definitely isn’t the place it’s going to happen. The walls are covered in dark gray subway tile, and there isn’t even a window. There is a clawfoot bathtub that looks like heaven, though. And I could probably easily rip that mirror off the wall and smash it into shards if I wanted to make a weapon out of it.
“Why should I trust you?” he asks. “Give me one good reason why.”
Good question, I think, jolting my eyes away from the mirror.
“Kid,” I say. Keep it simple. He obviously knows there’s a connection, but the less I say, the better. It’s my only chance at keeping him safe. It’s my only chance at making sure I don
’t drag him any further into this disaster. I didn’t finish the job, and I left a pile of dead bodies behind me. For all I know, Barret’s men are out looking for me right now.
I really have to pee. I know he’s just doing this to see if he can break me down. I know he’s just trying to show me who’s in charge here. I can’t help it that I kind of like it.
“Oh okay,” he says with a sarcastic nod. “Why don’t you just call him up then and make this all go away? Oh that’s right… he’s in fucking solitary.”
“This is embarrassing,” I say. My bladder gets the best of me though. I pull down my pants and sit down on the toilet. “You really think I’m gonna escape?”
“I think I have every right to keep an eye on you in my house. You’re mine to look after, you know. I could’ve just left you with Decker, but he’d probably have you strung up the flagpole in front of the clubhouse by now.”
I shrug as the rush of relieving myself overtakes me.
“Was it everything you hoped and dreamed?” I ask.
“Baby steps,” he says with a toothy smile. “You’ll be eating out of my hand before the day is over. Now get yourself cleaned up. I’m starving.”
Just like that, he shuts the bathroom door behind him, and I realize I’m playing right into his trap. I just gave him control over one of my most basic functions without so much as batting an eye. This is what my life looks like now. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, and if I’m good, I get a bubble bath.
If it really was that simple, I’d be all in for all time.
I can’t let my guard down. The only reason why he’s doing any of this is because of Pearl, and I still haven’t put my finger on what the two of them have going on. Maybe I’m just something to pass the hours, a plaything. Maybe he gets off on breaking women. Maybe if I want to get out of here, I’ll just have to play along. Break him right back. I am so exhausted I don’t have the energy to even think about it just yet.
I turn the warm water on in the bathtub and strip all the way down. The full-length mirror reminds me of the scars on my back. Holy shit, did he see those?
Maybe he didn’t notice. I lost my shirt back in the van, but maybe he was so wrapped up in the moment he didn’t actually notice.
As the bathtub fills up, I squirt some of his body wash under the running water, watching the bubbles rise to the top. It smells good. Like man. Like a warm hug. I think about the way he stared down my body in the living room and it gives me goosebumps. Like he wanted to devour me like a wolf. Like he wanted me to call him daddy.
I feel a ping in my core when I envision those muscular tattooed arms that hefted me over his shoulder without any effort. The rage in his eye when he woke up and realized I was the one behind all this. The way he let Decker fuck with my mind while we were in the van, taking away any illusions of safety I had. His satisfied smile as he shut the bathroom door behind me, knowing I was under his control.
It turns me the fuck on and it shouldn’t.
This is a really dangerous game.
I slip into the tub, the water sheer perfection. I sink down to my shoulders, giving in to the simple but overwhelming pleasure. My hand inadvertently slips between my thighs, and I’m halfway horrified at how wet I am.
This isn’t what I signed up for, but I succumb to the urge. I slide my fingers in and out, trying to hold back my moans as I picture Ransom’s face in my mind.
17
Annabella:
I tiptoe down the hardwood floor, a towel bunched tight around my body, my damp hair hanging down my back. My clothes from earlier are completely shot. I have nothing. I am at his total mercy. I stand up tall and make my face into a tough scowl as I round the corner to the kitchen, like I’m a camper trying to scare off a bear.
The smell of garlic bread hits my nose, and my mouth instantly begins to water. My stomach growls loud enough that he turns around from whatever he’s chopping on the counter and looks at me with a giant smile.
“I need some clothes, please,” I say.
“You need to eat.” He sets a big plate of pasta on the table and motions for me to sit down. I clench my towel tight to my body like it’s the last shred of dignity I have. He moves through the kitchen, grabbing glasses from the cupboards and filling them with water from a pitcher. My brain might be fighting, but as he sits down and starts twirling spaghetti on his fork, my body gives in.
I sit down at the table and chug the whole glass of water in one large gulp.
He grabs a set of tongs and flips some salad into my bowl. I eye him suspiciously the entire time.
“These meatballs are Anita’s recipe.” He picks up a meatball with his fork and examines it. “You know Anita? I bet she’s pretty fucking relieved after what you did to Stoney.”
I shove a forkful of pasta into my mouth and my eyes roll back in my head. It’s the most heavenly thing I ever tasted. He watches intently, like I’m some sort of rare species he’s studying.
“I don’t know any Anita. I don’t know anybody,” I say with my mouth half full of food.
“Well, it’s hard to stop once you start eating her pasta. Only thing is, it’ll put you in a food coma real fast. Nothing like that coma you put me in last night, mind you.” He winks and shoves the meatball in his mouth.
“I didn’t want to,” I blurt out. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. It was never part of the plan.”
“But Driller, you did mean for that to happen to him?”
I feel like he’s asking me a trick question. I had a lot less remorse about knocking Driller out, but I did what any sane person would do if they were being ambushed by an armed biker.
I pretend like I am very focused on cutting my meatball into as many symmetrical pieces as possible, avoiding his stare.
“You have a crush on me, don’t ya, girl?” he says with a laugh.
I drop my fork to the table with a loud clatter and pull my towel tighter. I stand up and push my chair in. “What I have is very specific orders. You were not to be harmed.”
“You’re bright red, princess,” he says, raising his eyebrows.
“Well, I’m warm,” I say, knowing I’m blushing from head to toe.
“Take your towel off. Get comfy,” he says with a shrug.
“I don’t know who you think I am, but that shit isn’t going to work on me,” I say. “You might be able to get in my sister’s pants with your winks and your tattoos and your muscles. I’m not like that. I’m a murderer, remember?” I tap my finger off my forehead like I just delivered a winning supreme court argument.
“So you’re jealous of her?” he asks, this time winking extra dramatically before throwing his head back and laughing.
“Ugh!!!” I shout, and I stomp out of the kitchen and down the hallway.
“Where ya going?” he asks.
I don’t know. Like, I really don’t know. The house isn’t really that big and I haven’t established where exactly I belong here. I storm down the hallway where the bathroom is, knowing at the very least, I can lock myself in there again.
I throw open the first door I see. There’s a wooden bassinet on the floor and a rocking horse that looks like it was handmade. The room is sparse but, it looks like the start of a nursery. I wonder if this stuff was just here when he moved in.
Without warning, he comes from behind me and slams the door shut. For the first time since I laid eyes on him, he looks genuinely upset.
“This is my house,” he growls, firming his hand into my lower back. He pushes me down the hallway, opening another door. “You go where I tell you to go, you do what I tell you to do, and that’s it.”
He shoves me in the room and slams the door behind me. I reach for the doorknob, twisting and tugging on it, but I’m locked in. I don’t know what I did to set him off, but it’s apparent whatever is in that room is something he doesn’t want anyone to know about.
“Ransom!” I shout, pounding on the door. “Please let me out!”
My nerves st
art getting the best of me. I have come a long way of undoing all the fucked-up shit that happened to me and my mother but being locked in a confined space is enough to put me right back in that dark place. My heart races as I feel the wall for a light switch. The room is pitch-black, no natural light coming from anywhere, and I fumble around until my shin whacks off of what feels like a bed frame.
I crawl up onto the bed, feeling around for a nightstand, and flick on the lamp.
A rush of tears starts pouring down my face, panic setting in. That heavy oak door isn’t going anywhere. Neither is that feeling of claustrophobia sitting on my chest. I climb under the covers and pull them up over my head, curling up into a little ball, breathing so hard I’m hyperventilating. My blood pressure is spiking.
I can’t do this.
I can’t fake it til I make it when I know I can’t escape. I make myself as small as possible.
I start humming All the Pretty Horses, the lullaby my mom used to sing to me when I would get frightened, trying to get my mind back together again. Try to imagine myself wild and free, letting the darkness set in.
18
Undisclosed Location 1998
I’m starting to become old enough to understand that when my mother comes back to the room, all covered in blood and bruises, smelling like cologne and sweat with that empty stare in her eyes, it’s probably for the better that I live my life out in between these four walls.
The outside world is only full of bad. I know because I can hear it through the walls. The screaming. The crying. The big beastly smelly men who throw my mom around like a rag doll.
She hands me a brown paper bag and walks over to the sink, running the water a few seconds. She grabs a cloth, soaking it, and begins pressing it to her wounds, grimacing in pain each time.