“Make me,” I snarl back.
“Bitch.”
“Asshole.”
Okay. So we could trade insults all day.
“Oomph.” Or maybe we won’t, I can’t breathe for a second, and bend double with the pain caused by his fist to my stomach. A hand on my shoulder pushes me down, I miss the chair and land on the ground.
George’s short, but muscular body covers mine pushing me back until I lie prone. While I’m still trying to recover, he’s trapped both my hands in his and has them over my head.
I buck and kick, but he’s mad enough to lower his face to mine. His breath smells putrid.
As he tries to forcibly kiss me, I bite his lip. Hard.
“Fucking freak.” He lets go of my hands to wipe the blood, I place my thumbs in his eyes.
He grabs my wrists and pulls them out to the side, it creates enough of a gap between us that I’m able to jerk my knee up straight into his balls.
The door opens, and my father returns in time to see George groaning, curled up in a foetal position, and me with a smug smile on my face. Round one to me. I’ve surprised myself, I hadn’t known I had such fight in me. Though I may have won this one, I have no doubt there’ll be a round two. I won’t be let off that easily.
Unfortunately, my fight had reminded me of Ink, and what the difference had been. That night, while I hadn’t wanted Ink to overpower me, I hadn’t tried to seriously hurt him. With George, all bets had been off. If I’ve permanently damaged his manhood, he deserves it.
“Christ.” It seems Phil has no sympathy for his man at all. “Get to your fucking feet.” Then to me. “The Satan’s Devils want to give me my heroin back.”
I feel several emotions. Surprise, first and foremost, disgust they’ve given into his demands, then a glimmer of hope that I might soon be free. “You’re making the exchange? The drugs for me?”
He actually laughs. “I always win, Bethany, and I win big. I don’t need to use you to get my drugs back. The president of the MC has an interesting proposal for me. Money talks, my dearest daughter, money talks. You, though, mean nothing. Not to me, and not to him.”
The Devils are making a deal with my father? How could I have been so wrong about them? I don’t understand, but the brief glimpse of freedom fast disappears.
He chuckles again at the horror clearly written on my face. “Right. I’ve got some shit to collect from Pueblo. George, take her back to her room and make sure she stays there.”
“Shall I keep her amused while you’re gone?” George’s voice sounds higher than normal.
Phil’s incredulous eyes fall on his man who’s still cupping his balls. “Think you might need some time to recover,” he tells him. “No. Leave her to stew. Oh, and get her name down on the transport list, okay?”
That does not sound good.
“What transport?” I ask George as he limps up the stairs.
But the smirk he tosses at me suggests I’d rather not know.
In my room I flop onto the bed, once again fighting back tears. I’ve cried more in the last few days than I have before in my whole life, and not one tear drop has helped. Do the Devils really not care what happens to me? Are they actually going to do business with Phil? Why else would they have a proposition for him? Did the huge quantity of drugs tempt them into his line of work?
Maybe it’s a ruse.
No, I tell myself. I can’t expect knights on motorcycles to ride in to rescue me.
But what other hope have I got to hold on to?
Oh Ink, if only you were free. But even then, would he care? He told me via his lawyer our relationship was over. He hates me.
The facts are that Phil has gone to Pueblo, and sometime soon I’ll be going on some kind of transport to God knows where.
Let’s face it. No one is coming for me. I’ve only myself to rely on. Unless I can get free, I’ll have to resign myself to an uncertain and unpleasant future.
I cross to the window and look out at the freedom that’s so close, yet so unobtainable. I run my hands over the frame, it’s solid and unmoveable, and the plaster around it is firm. Looking down I see my breakfast tray has gone, and so has the handy knife I’d forgotten to pilfer. My fingernails don’t even make a mark on the plasterwork. All I do is break them, though I try until I make them bleed.
Giving up, I stare out across the grounds and out toward the wall of the compound. If I could get out, I could cover the distance in seconds.
Something glints in the sun. I lean closer to the window to take a look, tilting my head. Is that a remote-controlled plane? Are Phil’s guards playing with a toy?
I tilt my head to one side as it starts to draw closer. What the hell…? Is it a… It’s a drone. Is Phil using tech to keep an eye on me?
I jump back from the window fast. Christ, they must think I’m resourceful if they think they need to guard me from the sky. Or, I realise as I pull myself out of sight and stand with my back to the wall, they’re creeps who hope to watch me getting undressed.
Perhaps it’s not being controlled by Phil’s men. Could it be the cops? The FBI? Sounds like something they might do. And Phil’s a man they’d likely investigate. Quickly glancing around the room, I wonder if there’s a convenient paper and pen. If it’s the cops, I could write a message that I’m a prisoner, and hope they could see it. If it’s Phil, well, he already knows.
But of course, there’s nothing I can use to write on or with.
Wondering if I could mime being held against my will and whether I could get my point across, I return to the window, but the drone, or whatever it was, has gone.
Feeling I’ve lost the only chance I might have had, I turn my back.
Boom!
Christ? What the hell was that? Automatically I’ve dropped to the floor, hunched over and put my hands protectively over my head. Was that an explosion? Before I can answer my mental question, fire alarms are going off all over the house. Footsteps run past my door but don’t stop.
“Hey!” I run to the door and try and turn the knob. It’s locked, of course.
Is it my imagination, or do I already smell smoke?
Hell, have they left me here to burn to death?
Now there are gunshots and screams. Oh my God. What’s going on?
I rattle the door handle and pull on it, but it doesn’t budge. Regretting lock-picking is not one of my skills, I wonder if I can kick it down, at least I’ve got strength in my legs, but it opens inward, and that wood looks too thick. And maybe, if the house is filling with smoke, and there’s a gun battle going on, I’m safer this side. What if I get out and am shot?
My hand is still on the handle when I feel it moving. Someone’s trying it from the other side.
Friend or foe? In this house there’s little hope of it being the former.
I slowly back away, wishing there was somewhere to hide. In the bathroom, perhaps? No, it’s too small, no room to manoeuvre. If it’s George coming in, he’s going to feel my knee in his balls again.
“Stand back!” a voice demands. It's a voice I recognise.
Shit. I’m hallucinating now. I thought I heard Ink.
Have I fallen asleep? Is this some nightmare I’m living?
The door flies open, bouncing back against the wall and almost closing again before revealing the man, not of my nightmares, but of my dreams. Convincing me my subconscious has conjured him up.
“Ink?”
“Babe. Stop staring and come with me. Phil might be on his way back with reinforcements.”
He’s got a phone in one hand and proceeds to talk both to me and the person at the end of the line.
“Yeah, Prez, I got her. Getting out now. I don’t know if one of his men managed to get a message off. If they did, I don’t know what he cares most about, his compound or drugs… Yeah, man. I hear you.”
“For fuck’s sake, Beth. Do I have to put you over my shoulder and carry you out? We haven’t got much time.”
The smoke
wafting through the door confirms what he’s saying.
I can’t make my feet move. He grabs my hand.
“Move, Beth,” he instructs using his dominant tone. At last my body unfreezes.
How? Why? runs through my head, though this isn’t the time to ask. We tear down the stairs, and Ink stops so fast, I run straight into his back. George and Marcus, instead of running away from the flames, are trying to open a door that I hadn’t noticed before.
Ink raises his gun.
“Got to get them out…” Marcus ignores him and rounds on George. “Kick it down.”
“I’ll find the key.”
“There’s no fucking time,” Marcus spits back.
“What’s down there?” Ink snaps.
“Merchandise.”
Cad appears, his gun aimed at the two men. “Let the drugs burn.”
“Not drugs man, the breathing kind.”
“Fuck,” Ink breathes out. “Kick that fucker down.”
The heavyweight door at last splinters and falls in. It must have been soundproofed. Now it’s opened, it’s possible to hear screams and cries.
“Go bring ‘em up.” Ink waves his gun toward George and Marcus.
Marcus pushes George down the stairs, then follows him. There’s a loud crack as if a timber has fallen, and the screams start again. Then, two young women appear, a girl in her late teens, and one even younger. Their faces are white with shock.
“Beth?”
I’m there. “You’ve got to get out. Come with me.” I herd them toward the front door, sparing only a moment to ask Cad. “Is it safe out there?” I don’t want to run into my father’s men.
“Yeah, just don’t look around too much.”
“Hey what are you doing? Don’t let them escape! They’re worth money,” Marcus shouts, trying to grab one of the women’s arms.
Ink raises his gun and a perfect circle appears on Phil’s man’s forehead.
As his teammate falls to the ground, George raises his arms. “Hey, man. I was just saving them. Let them go, I don’t…”
He now has also fallen and staring up with wide dulling eyes.
“Out, Beth. Now!”
Ink draws my shocked attention back to the smoke-filled hallway, flames clearly visible through the open door of Phil’s sitting room.
The women have already run out but have stopped dead fearing Pal who’s standing guard over the man I recognise as the gardener and the maid who’d brought me my breakfast what seems like a lifetime ago. I run over to the group, almost tripping on a severed arm. Now I heed Cad’s earlier warning and keep my eyes focused on people standing. I yell at Pal when it looks like he’s reaching into his belt.
“They’re nothing,” I shout at him. “Don’t harm them.”
“Sort of gathered that,” he says. Then turns to the maid rattling off some Spanish.
“Si, Signor,” is her response. “No,” and shakes her head.
Ink’s close behind me. “Tell them they can go,” he tells Pal.
What Pal had been reaching for was a wad of dollars, he divides it in two then presses half into each of the Hispanics’ hands. “Lay low,” he tells them.
They don’t need telling twice. With a stunned but grateful look, their fingers curl tightly around the money, and then they run off.
“You two,” Ink addresses the shocked women who came up from the basement. “You got family close by?”
They still, hardly daring to breathe. “You’re letting us go?”
“We’re not going to be sold?” one asks wide-eyed.
Ink looks surprised it was ever in question. “Of course, you’re fuckin’ not. If you’ve got a place to go, then yeah, we won’t stop you leaving.”
The young teenager holds up her hand. “My family is in Denver.”
“We haven’t got family,” the older woman says. “But we’ll find our way on the streets.”
Ink closes his eyes for a moment. “We’ll get you back to your family,” he tells the younger girl, then regards the other two. “Finding your way on the streets is probably what got you into Phil’s clutches. Look, we’re from Pueblo. You can come back with us if you want. We can get you to safety. Sort you out while you find somewhere to go.”
The two women look at each other, then at me, then spy the house burning down behind us.
I see their reluctance. Remembering Ink’s words on the phone, I tell them, “No pressure, but we’ve got to get going. Phil, the man who was holding you, well, he might be on his way back.”
They put their heads together, then the older one who seems to be the spokesperson says hesitantly eyeing me, “Do you trust these men?” When I give a heartfelt yes. They’d come for me. She adds, “Getting out of town sounds like the best idea. We’ll go to Pueblo.”
Cad’s on his phone now, but only for a moment. Almost as soon as he’s ended the call a truck is driving up with the prospect Karl at the wheel.
“Sorry, ladies. Gonna be a bit of a squash until we get back to the bikes,” Cad explains, bundling the women into the back. Ink, Cad and Pal indicate they’ll go into the rear compartment normally reserved for transporting motorcycles. I go to squeeze in with the women, but Karl waves to the passenger seat.
“Thought it would be easier than folding yourself up in the back.” I appreciate his thoughtfulness.
They discuss the women for a second, and Karl agrees to drop the teenager home before heading back to Pueblo. Ink, Cad and Pal will be left to come back on their bikes.
I sit during the short journey, trying to process my swiftly changing fate. Trying to work out how Ink is here and free, wondering if he’s got a twin brother I hadn’t known about who was here instead, then dismiss that. There’s no doubt it was Ink. Which begs further questions. How the fuck is he here? Did he get bail after all? Were the charges dropped? And, most important, what does that mean for him and for me?
Chapter Thirty-Six
Ink
Yesterday I’d gone through the best and worst of times. My release from jail is about up there with one of the happiest moments of my life, but I’d crashed down to earth when I found out Beth was gone. When I’d seen her on that drone camera footage, looking unharmed, I’d felt relief, but urgency to get this job done and bring her home safe.
There had been a propane tank around the opposite side of the house. I’d fired the rocket launcher with an incendiary head straight at it, the explosion had taken out half of the building, and the fire spread faster than expected. We’d wasted no time approaching and picking off the men who’d come running out, more intent on saving themselves than anything or anyone inside.
I’ve found Beth. The relief that sweeps through me is overwhelming. There had been moments when I doubted ever seeing her again, in jail, of course, but even after I was released.
In the rush to get out alive, including those poor bitches kept imprisoned in a burning basement, then all of us away and safe, I hadn’t had a moment to talk to her, nor even a second to read the expressions on her face.
She’s safe. Alive. Unwilling to spend another minute apart, I’m determined I’m going to be feeling her arms around my waist as I ride back to Pueblo. In the back of the truck, I thank fuck I’d put that double seat on my bike before I’d gone inside.
The moment I’d seen her again, I knew I’d not exaggerated my feelings for her. If I have my way, from now on, she’ll never be out of my sight.
If she’s got doubts, if she doesn’t want to commit, I’ll just have to tie her to my bed and fuck her until she admits I’m the man she wants for the rest of her life. Maybe, if she’s willing, put my baby inside her. I’ll use every trick in the book to tie her to me. She’s mine now, she’s going to have to accept it.
Hey, if nothing else works, I’ll play on her guilt. I could have gone inside for thirty years of my life, she should be prepared to give me thirty of hers.
Yeah, I’ll find some sneaky darn ways to make her see sense. As long as she ends up
agreeing to be my old lady, I don’t care what the fuck I have to do to get that result.
Pal and Cad are talking, Pal nestling that fucking drone in his arms, the technology that had so impressed me and enabled us to carry out our mission successfully. As the two men discuss its performance, I tune them out. It’s not long before we pull up to where our bikes have been parked, a relieved Beaver standing guard.
“Mission accomplished?”
Having jumped out of the back, I nod at him. Then go to the passenger side of the truck and pull open the door. Reaching over her, I undo Beth’s seatbelt.
At her wide eyes, I explain, “You’re coming with me.” Then I grab hold of her hand, firmly, so she has no choice.
Glancing around, she sees there’s no other mode of transport. “On your bike?”
“Want you close, babe.” I rest my forehead against hers. “Missed you like fuck. Didn’t expect to see you again…”
“They said you hated me. That you didn’t want to see me. I don’t understand, Ink.”
Four days. Surely not enough time for her to have grieved and moved on? I sigh deeply. If her feelings hadn’t the depth of mine, maybe that had been enough. “I had to cut you loose, babe. Couldn’t have you dragged into it. Couldn’t have had you trying to see me. The cops had to believe there was nothing between us.”
“There wasn’t, was there?”
Again, I exhale. “Oh, babe.” Here, at the roadside, I really don’t know what to say. How can I explain my feelings toward her?
She bites her lip. “I told the cops you were just my fuck buddy.”
She did? That makes me chuckle softly. “I said the same.” Then, I nuzzle the top of her hair with my lips and lower my mouth so it’s against her ear and add, “I lied.”
“Lied?” Her eyes widen once more.
“Yeah. You’re more to me than that.” I stare into her face, but she makes no reciprocal comment. Maybe the tying to my bed idea will have to be deployed.
“How did you get out?”
I don’t answer as my back gets a hefty slap on it, causing me to raise my head and swear.
“Ink, Beth. Save the happy reunion until we’re out of Denver, yeah?” Cad snipes. “I want to get as far away as possible in case Phil’s coming back. Hey, Karl, we’ll meet you at the waypoint.”
Ink's Devil: Satan's Devils MC Colorado Chapter #5 Page 37