by K. L. Savage
Has the man never experienced pain before?
“Sorry, I wanted to see how she’d do penetrating bone.” Tongue jerks the knife free, the blade still in perfect condition. No chips or dents from the bone. “Oh, yeah. She’s a fucking gem. Just think about what she will do to your tongue.” He shivers, a delightful smile on his face. I look down and notice his cock is getting hard.
Holy shit, the man gets off on this.
“If it isn’t your tongue I take, it will be someone else’s,” he looks around the room, deciding on which man will be his victim.
“Speak,” I tell him. “Where is Fabian? He has my ol’ lady. And you know how us bikers are about our women.”
He has a look of pure terror on his face, and he takes a few deep breaths to try to push through the pain of the wound in his leg. “Okay, okay,” he says. “Fabian came to us; said he’d pay for one of our off-the-grid warehouses. He gave us a bunch of drugs to call it even. I had no idea he was going to take your ol’ lady. I swear to god, man. If I had known he had anything to do with the Ruthless Kings, I would have never gotten into business with him.”
“Where. Is. He?” I do everything I can to not blow this fucker’s head off right here and now. Sarah hasn’t been gone a day, and I’m losing my fucking mind. How will I live with myself if I don’t get there in time?
What if I don’t get there in time to save Boomer too? Hell, Boomer could already be dead.
No, I can’t accept that. Boomer is smart. He knows how to live. I taught him well. He’ll be fine. I know for a fact that if it came down to it, he’d save Sarah’s life by sacrificing his own. It shouldn’t bring me comfort, but it does.
“It’s underground. You won’t be able to see it from the road.”
“Where? I won’t ask again.” I shove my gun into his mouth.
He mumbles around it, so I rip the warm barrel from his lips. “It’s five miles north and three miles west in the middle of the desert. You’ll see a shack, something rundown and broken. On the inside on the ground is a big metal door. I swear to god, that’s where they are. That’s the place he wanted.” The man starts to cry, for good reason too.
No way am I going to leave him alive when he could retaliate. “Okay, thanks, boys. Fellas, have your way.” I tuck my gun in my vest and walk out, the wood from the porch crunching under my boot. Gunshots and screams ring behind me, but I don’t look back.
A man never looks back.
All that’s left is to blow it up, and I’ll save that for Boomer when we get him back. I swing my leg over the bike I’m borrowing from Tool; he had a few in the garage for backup. I wait outside for my men, and Skirt rolls his bike next to me, looking at the open door and hearing the pleas of people begging for their life.
“Did ye get what you needed?” he asks, his red beard shining like fire on his face as the sun bears down on us.
“I did.” A few minutes later, the screams die down, and Vipers’ cut-sluts run out the door, blood on their bodies. There are a few cars out here, and they each get into one, spinning out of the parking lot and zipping down the road to put this place in their rearview.
Tongue walks out and throws someone’s pink appendage across the porch, and then he wipes his hands on his jeans. He inhales the summer air and smiles like he hasn’t smelled the outdoors in days; he seems so happy. He has a pep in his step as he practically prances to his bike.
“Alright, boys. Five miles north and then three miles west inland. Let’s ride,” I shout, and at the same time, all of us crank our bikes, the engines rumbling like thunder. I don’t mind the speed limit. I go as fast as I can without risking my life, eating up the five miles quickly. The road is long and flat with a few small hills. The air is hot, over a hundred degrees, and my skin sweats underneath the leather cut.
I’m thirsty for vengeance.
At five miles, I come to a stop. I hold out my left arm and take an immediate turn, cutting through the desert. There’s a soft trail from other bikes that I see, so I follow it. Dust flies in all directions, and the rocks make the ride bumpy. I do my best to miss the dead plants and cactuses, but I know regardless the bikes are going to need worked on after this.
Three miles later, I see the shack the VP talked about. I still don’t feel guilty for killing him. He was a means to an end. I don’t even wait to come to a stop. I jump off my bike and let it fall to the ground then run inside the damn hut. There, right there is the metal door. I wrap my hands around the handles and pull, but there’s no give.
“Fuck! Come on!” I give it all I have, planting my feet and tugging. The hinges groan and protest, the lock fights me back, but nothing will stop me from getting to her. Not when I know she is right beneath my feet. I’ve kept her safe for two years, and I won’t let it come to an end now.
Tool grabs the handles too, and I spare him a grateful glance as both of us pull. The door snaps open, hinges fly and smack the walls of the shack. The door on the right hangs down, dangling. I kick it in and jump down, not thinking how far or unsafe it is.
I have one thing on my mind. Well two, but the first is Sarah and then Boomer. I’m not sure when he became secondary, maybe the moment she came into our lives. I get my gun out, and a few of my men drop down behind me. Fuck, it smells down here. Fabian must live in this dump.
It’s dark and hot. If it's a hundred degrees outside, then it is one-hundred and thirty down here. Sweat is running down my face in lakes, stinging my eyes, burning them, and it hinders my vision. I wipe it away, gun held out in front of me, and Tool takes out a flashlight and points.
“Fuck. Me.” He whistles, swiveling the light around. Chains hang from the ceiling and hooks, barrels of I don’t know what sit everywhere, and they have biohazard symbol on them. Tool takes his screwdriver and pries open the top and picks up a pound of cocaine. There must be hundreds of barrels full of this stuff down here.
Tongue cuts the package open with the same knife he used to kill someone with and sprinkles a bit of the white powder in his mouth. He shakes his head, coughs, and then gags, “Shit, that’s uncut. That’s fucking sick. Millions of dollars’ worth, at least.” I’m not going to ask how he knows that. All of us have pasts.
I hear a clank of metal in front of us, and Tool shines his light down the darkened path, another door up ahead.
I can’t wait any longer. I sprint to the door and just as I’m about to kick it in. Tool pulls me back by my shoulder. “We need to be quiet. We don’t know what he is doing. We don’t want to kill anyone he may have in his hands.”
Tool reaches for the handle and turns it.
What I see sends me in a downward spiral.
25
Sarah
Boomer is just hanging there. I don’t know if he is dead or alive, but the blood, oh god, the smell of it is making me sick.
“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, Sarah.” The stranger runs his knuckles down my face and then brings his rancid mouth to my cheek. He smells disgusting, like body odor and smoke. It almost makes me gag.
“Who are you? Just tell me.” I give in, wanting to know if I can salvage this situation any by talking to him.
“I can’t believe you don’t remember me. That’s okay. We have the rest of our lives to get to know each other. I know you. We were in the same foster homes for a long time. Do you remember the Pines’ house? The boy who broke his arm from falling off the roof?”
Of course, I remember that. It was terrible but being in those houses was like another life to me. I barely remember anything, but the boy who fell, he nearly died. That much I remember. The next day, I couldn’t ask how he was because I went to another home.
“That was me. You were the first person to run out and check on me. And from there, I knew we were meant to be together, but everyone else kept getting in my way. Everyone. First, it was that horrible man who almost killed you. I would have saved you from that. I would have. You need to believe me. Do you?” He is right in front of my
face now, and when the red-light shines on him, I push against the barrel.
He reminds me of the devil with the red light on him. Sunken cheeks, black eyes, patchy red skin; he is a junky. “I believe you,” I whisper.
“And then Boomer happened, and that damn MC. Do you know how hard it was to watch you with them around? To make sure you were safe. We have been together most of our lives, Sarah. My father is a very powerful man; we can go anywhere. We can sin, we can live, we can love.” He presses his lips against mine, and I yank my head away, this time, throwing up all over the floor with how bad his breath is.
“I don’t love you. The man I love will find me, and when he does, he will kill you.”
“My name is Fabian,” he says, ignoring the threat I just gave. It might be useless, but it makes me feel like there is some sort of hope. Thinking about Reaper is the only thing keeping me level and calm, and as long as I am alive, I have faith that he will find me and bring me home.
I don’t know a man named Fabian. I don’t remember a boy I always knew. Half of my childhood has no memory. I keep it blocked out. “Fabian?” I pretend to be amazed. “Oh my god, that’s you? I didn’t recognize you. You scared me with all of this. You could have just talked to me. Hurting Boomer wasn’t necessary.”
“You only have room for one brother in your life,” he says, giving Boomer a jealous stare. “I hate him. I have always hated him. He isn’t good for you like I am.”
“I know, but I had no idea where you were.” I shrug. “I had to make the best out of a bad situation, you know?” Every word slices like the thick lashes betrayal leaves behind.
“I know,” he says. “But you have me now.”
“I do. It’s been so long. We have so much catching up to do. Unlock my wrists. Let’s get out of here. You and me,” I say.
“I-I don’t know.” He scratches his head. “What if you turn your back on me.”
“Why would I do that?” I ask at the same time as I study my surroundings. “Come on, all these years and you don’t trust me? Wow, that hurts, Fabian.”
“I never want to hurt you.” He takes my aching wrists in his hands and caresses the top of my hand.
God, if I make it out of here alive, I’m going to soak in a tub full of acid to get this man’s touch off me. The guys at the MC have a few loose screws, like Tongue, but this guy is off his fucking rocker.
“Okay, but we have to leave right away, alright?” he says.
“Anything you want, Fabian.” I make his name sound like a moan, a purr, a desperate need that needs to be filled inside me, and his eyes lock with mine, void of any emotion except insanity.
He hurries, sliding the key in the bracelet locks, and with one click, I’m free. I rub my wrists to get feeling back into them and give him a thankful smile. “Just a second. I can’t feel my hands.”
“No time to waste.” He grips my arm and lifts me up. Fabian drags me forward, and I’m barely able to keep my feet under me. I run into chains and buckets, nearly tripping. Puddles splash beneath my feet, and I cringe, wondering what the liquid could be.
Boomer is up ahead, and right next to him is a double hook. On purpose, I hit my brother to see if there are any signs of life, and when I hear a quiet groan, I breathe a little easier. There is hope.
Fabian is in front of me, humming a tune I don’t know, and I kick a metal pipe on the ground.
A loose metal pipe. I reach down and pat the floor as fast as I can, and Fabian turns around, staring down at me.
His hope turns wicked.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I wrap my fingers around the bar and grin. “Getting out of here alive.” I slash the pipe through the air and hammer his chest, a battle cry leaving my mouth when I swing to the other side and bash the pipe on the other side of his face. The chain from the ceiling gives when I tug on it, and the double hooks lower. I take Fabian by the shirt and slam his body against it, and then I click the power box that tightens the chain and lifts whatever is on the hook up.
Fabian’s screams don’t even bring solitude. I won’t have any until I know he is dead. The hooks get deeper, penetrating through each of his shoulders until he is hanging there, stuck in mid-air.
“Sarah!” Reaper’s voice is a whisper in the loud cries of Fabian. “Sarah!”
“I’m here!” I drop the pipe and turn around. Reaper is running right at me, gun lifted and the bullet breezes by me, landing right in the chest of the outlier known as Fabian.
Reaper cradles me into his chest, mimicking how someone holds a baby, and kisses my forehead. “God, I thought I lost you. Never do that to me again.”
“I had it under control,” I say, watching the men lower Boomer to the ground. “Is he okay? Please, let him be okay. He took so much abuse, so I wouldn’t have any.”
“He’s alive,” Tool proclaims. “Shoulder wound, finger missing, bruised up pretty damn good, but he should be okay.”
“Watch her.” Reaper hands me off to Tongue, giving me a quick kiss before he kneels next to Boomer.
“Can’t believe you strung that fucker up like a fish,” Tongue notices. “It’s impressive. Your fight, your will.”
“I did what I had to.” I never take my eyes off Reaper as he lifts Boomer into his arms.
“Reaper?” Boomer slurs half-awake. “Reaper? Is that you?”
“It’s me, kid. You’re going to be alright.”
“Sarah,” he struggles to say through a broken wheeze. “Sarah…”
“I’m okay! Boomer,” I cry and try to run toward him, but Tongue stops me.
“Give them a minute.”
“After this, Boomer. Will you please take your prospect cut? Your father’s vest has been waiting for you.”
“Yeah,” Boomer whispers. “I’ll take the damn thing.”
Tongue picks me up next and throws me over his shoulder. I guess being cradled against someone’s chest is a little too intimate. I can’t see anything as we walk, just the steps. When we finally get to the door, Tongue climbs up a ladder until the hot desert sun burns my face and eyes.
I lift my hand to block the sun out of my eyes. Shit, it’s bright.
“I saw what you did to him,” Reaper says after he gets Boomer settled in a truck one of the guys drove. “My little maniac, I’m so fucking glad you’re fucked in the head.”
“I am not!” I protest, wrapping my arms around his neck.
He chuckles, bringing his forehead to mine.
“Okay, just a little.” I place my fingers together to show just how little, and Reaper presses them together more to make the area smaller.
“There. That’s better.” He places a kiss on my lips, and then I remember that Fabian kissed me. I rip my lips away, unable to meet Reaper’s eyes. I’m so disgusted with myself. “What is it? Kiss me, baby. I need your lips. I love you.”
“He kissed me,” I say. “I pulled away. It made me sick. I−I didn’t kiss him back, but he kissed me.”
Reaper growls, and the promise of danger and violence shivers over my skin from the sound. He cups my cheek and tilts my head, and then he kisses me again. “It makes me want to kill that fucker all over again. I know anything you did, you had to do to stay alive.”
“I didn’t kiss him back, Reaper. I would rather die. It made me sick. Literally, I threw up.”
“Don’t ever say that. I always want you to do what you have to. I want you to come back to me. I hate the thought of a man putting his hands on you, but I trust you to handle yourself until I know I can get to you.” He tucks me into his side, and Tool comes up to me and places a grenade in my hand.
“I found it in Boomer’s pocket. Want to do the honors?” he asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “Boomer should. It was him who saved me this entire time. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him.”
Boomer falls out of the truck, and Bullseye helps him back up. I pull out of Reaper’s arms and run to my brother, wrapping one arm around his waist. I�
��m getting a lot of practice at this, carrying men who are way too big for me. “I got it, Bullseye.”
Boomer is heavy since he can’t really walk, but he has his good arm over my shoulder, grunting with every step we take to the shaft that hid us. He wheezes in my ear, spits blood, a gurgling sound in the back of his throat, and I’m afraid he might not make it home. “This is for you, Boomer.” I hand him the grenade. “Thank you for saving my life,” I say.
He shakes his head and gives me a bloody kiss on the forehead. “Let’s do it together.”
“Alright.” I pull on the clip, and Boomer tosses the green ball down the shaft.
As fast as I can, I drag us as far away as possible. I lean him against the truck, and I can see he is on the edge of passing out.
“Three, two,” he counts down.
“One,” I finish.
Boom.
Epilogue
REAPER
Six weeks later
I wake up with a hot mouth wrapped around my cock, sucking me down her throat like a professional. Well, it’s either a really good dream, or I’m about to have the best morning of my life. I rub the sleep out of my eyes and glance down to see my blonde bombshell staring at me through burning amber eyes as her lips stretch all around me.
“Good morning, doll.” My voice is still heavy with sleep.
She mumbles something back, but I can’t tell what it is since she has a mouth full of cock. “Mmm, look at you.” I wrap her hair around each fist and use them as reins to move her head faster. “Fuck, yes. That’s it, Sarah. Take all of my cock. Come on, doll. You can do it.” I whisper words of encouragement as I flex my hips and hit the back of her throat. She gags a bit, something that’s been happening more often than not.
She didn’t use to have a reflex, but after what happened, I think she’s more sensitive now. “Sorry, doll, I’ll go easier.”