She’d seen her friends, one by one, hurt by men. That’s all romance was- a huge fucking mockery that involved heartache, misery, and pain. She’d vowed that she’d steer clear of it. It was one thing to have fun. It was another entirely for it to mean something.
It never had. Until Creed.
Was the ache in her chest love? Was the savage hunger she felt for him more than just a physical craving? Was the violence rising up in her as she was forced to watch those men beat him- was that love? Every protective instinct, every single part of her, screamed at her to do something. To stop the beating. To help Creed.
She couldn’t help it. She screamed at them to stop. To let him go. She let her tears flow, but they only fed off her pain and misery. They laughed at her and mocked her and threatened to rape her if she didn’t shut the fuck up.
When Creed was finally, mercifully, unconscious, they loaded them both into the white van they had waiting outside. It had the name of a plumbing company. It was the kind without windows and without seats in the back.
The youngest of the men, who also seemed the most sadistic, opened the door. They threw Creed in, broken, bloody, battered, like he was nothing more than a piece of meat. She was loaded in with little more care. Thrust, not loaded. A hard shove from behind sent her sprawling, and since her hands were tied in front of her, she landed on top Creed.
She edged closer to him, pressing her body against his. She took what comfort from his warmth and the fact that he was still breathing. She inhaled, which the gag in her mouth made difficult to do, and nearly retched when the metallic tang of blood invaded her nose. Her hands, tied at the wrists, balled into fists.
Never in her life had she felt such a violent urge. If she’d had the gun Jack taught her how to use, which was still uselessly in the bedroom where Creed had slept, she wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in any one of the three’s heads.
The youngest one jumped in to the back of the van and the doors were shut behind him.
Everything went black.
Kate stilled, fear taking over. She was sure the only thing that kept her going was adrenaline. It swept through her bloodstream, kept her heat beating furiously. She clung to that, to the hope that they might still go free.
Creed had said he would protect her. He swore he’d keep her safe. She didn’t know him. She didn’t know the first thing about him. But she trusted him. She was going to have to trust him with her life. He might be unconscious, but she knew he’d given himself to it. He let it happen. He was far from beaten.
As the van started up, Kate edged closer to Creed’s unmoving form and let her tears flow. She wept silently as the vehicle swayed and rocked beneath her. The floor was hard metal and it dug into her hip bones. She refused to move and instead used the discomfort to ground herself.
Her captor’s heavy breaths were her only company and she listened, listen to each and every breath he took. She’d never killed a man. She never, ever, thought she’d be in a position where she’d have to. She knew though, now, that if she had to do it, to save herself or Creed, she wouldn’t hesitate. Not after seeing what those men had done to him.
She might have known Creed for a day, a day… was that it? It seemed more like a year. A year, a lifetime… what did it matter if it all was at an end? She’d found something she never thought she’d know. She’d experienced what it was to truly be at one with another person. To feel not just their body, but their soul. Creed swept into her life with the force of a tornado. He’d picked her up and tossed her around and he’d changed her. With a look. With a touch. He’d made her his.
His.
If they got out of this alive, she knew she’d follow him to the ends of the earth. She’d fight for him as he’d sworn to do for her. They’d make a life together. She’d let him in, let him into a hear she’d done everything in her power to protect. She’d heal him and he’d heal her. Somehow it would all work out. Somehow it would be alright.
Even if she didn’t believe in it.
Even if she didn’t believe in love.
Creed made her want to be better than the person she was before she met him. He made her want to be everything she’d despised. She thought love made people weak.
And then she’d watched him give up his body for her. That wasn’t weakness. That was strength. She’d always thought love made a person stupid. It did. Creed shouldn’t have done it for her. He shouldn’t have sacrificed his body to save hers. That was stupid, yet it was the most unbelievably selfless thing she’d ever experienced. If love made a person stupid, then maybe she wanted to be stupid too.
Kate clung to the last ounce of hope she had left. Hope was dangerous. She knew it, but she couldn’t just give up. Creed was still alive. He was still breathing. He wasn’t a man who broke his promise to the woman he loved.
After what felt like hours, the van stopped.
Kate froze. No amount of hoping or clinging to Creed’s words prepared her to be hauled out over the youngest guy’s shoulder. For someone who was tall and quite lean, he was shockingly strong. She watched the world swirl by her, dizzyingly, upside down.
Creed was hauled out between the other two. He let out a low groan of pain which told her he was awake.
She wished that he wasn’t. He would have been better for him.
They were carried into a dimly lit warehouse, likely on the edge of town, if they were still in St. Paul at all. They could have taken them anywhere. She had no idea how much time had passed. It was still daylight. That was all she knew.
Kate was thrown down onto the dirty cement floor like a sack of useless shit. She immediately tried to right herself, to get to her knees, which brought a course of sick laughter from the men gathered around.
She stilled as her eyes swept the circle. There were at least thirty men. At least. Panic welled up in Kate’s chest. Something bitter and acrid flooded the back of her throat. She’d never truly known fear, not once in her life. She knew it then. Any hope that she’d so desperately clung to faded when she saw the black, mean looks on those men’s faces. They weren’t men. They were devils. Devils who did things that sane men couldn’t do. They were modern day outlaws, the kind of men who didn’t fear the law or what it could do them. The kind of men who didn’t fear death.
She’d never really been scared of death. It had always been an abstract concept, since she was young and healthy.
Kate stayed on her knees. She didn’t raise her head, but she didn’t look down at the ground either. She knew that this was pretty much it for her. At the very least, she’d be raped and tortured. Worst case, she’d be raped, tortured, and murdered. She knew she’d have to watch Creed go through agony before he was killed. They wouldn’t end her life first. Torture her, maybe. But she knew they’d make her watch.
It was such a horrible thought, she curled in on herself. Her insides turned to water and bile burned at the back of her throat. The gag was still in her mouth, so she forced herself to swallow hard. She couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t scream. She couldn’t promise herself that she’d be brave. She couldn’t promise herself she’d be anything at all. She never thought that she’d go out this way.
She didn’t wish that she’d never met Creed. It was because of him that she felt truly alive, for the first time ever. It was because of him that her heart ached and swelled.
Kate thought of her sister and Jack. Jack would know something was wrong. He wouldn’t come looking for them. He’d take Tia and she’d be safe. Although, they didn’t have any part of this. The club, fucked up as it was, seemed to have rules and codes. Tia and Jack weren’t harmed. They came when it was just her and Creed. That had to mean something. Her sister would be safe. If she really was pregnant, the baby would be safe. Jack would know what to do.
The thought offered her some level of comfort.
Maybe, maybe if she was lucky, she’d be able to reach a gun. Maybe… maybe someone would be high or drunk or just careless. Maybe she could get to a gun a
nd end things herself before it got bad…
She gave herself a shake as Creed was dumped on the floor beside her. He didn’t move. One eye slowly opened, as far as it could, given that it was nearly swollen shut, and he gazed at her. A thin trickle of blood spilled from the side of his mouth. He looked horrible, with bruises and cuts and dried blood all over his face.
“Don’t be afraid,” he whispered in a broken voice.
She nodded. She knew it wasn’t possible. She was already terrified. She already knew she was going to die. She’d just considered shooting herself for god sakes.
It was bad. It was really, really, fucking bad.
Somehow, having Creed there beside her, knowing that he’d go with her, knowing that he’d given her a gift no one else would be able to give her, made it easier to bear.
A pair of boots scuffed into her line of sight. Two men roughly hauled Creed up and the guy, a huge, fat man with patchy, greasy hair, scars on his face, tattoos on his neck, dressed all in black leather, heaved one huge fist full of metal rings into Creed’s stomach.
He buckled inwards, gasping for breath, gagging and choking.
“You think you can rape my daughter? My fucking daughter? You think you can lay a hand on her and survive?”
Kate kept her head down. She knew that Creed didn’t do it. He would never, ever have hurt anyone, let alone a woman. She had no idea what the guy was talking about, but it was clear it was why Creed had to leave the club in the first place.
The men gathered around spat at Creed. They rained down insults, but they never laid a finger on him.
She assumed that right was for their leader. The fat guy who’d punched Creed in the stomach.
Her breath caught as Creed looked up. His face was a mess. His body sagged between the two men holding him. He spat out a line of bloody saliva. It hit the concrete floor with a sickening thud.
“You know what, Jim? Your daughter is a piece of shit. Just like her father. She threw herself at me and when I wouldn’t have her, she went to you crying rape. I never touched her. Never.”
“You shut your fucking mouth!” The guy, Jim… was that his name? struck Creed across the face. His rings left jagged cuts in their path, along Creed’s cheeks and lips.
He laughed. He threw back his head and laughed like he’d lost his mind. Maybe he had. Maybe the beatings, so close together, had damaged something in his brain.
Kate began to shake. The shaking turned onto a full-on trembling, until her body was vibrating so badly it felt like the floor was shaking.
“Why don’t you tell everyone here what really happened to Crow,” Creed hissed. He looked directly at Jim. “Why don’t you tell everyone how you put a bullet in between his eyes.”
Jim hit Creed again. His neck snapped back, to the side. He laughed again, harder this time, like a maniac. It was more than disconcerting. Kate felt the fear in the room. She glanced around wildly. It was fear. The bitter, acrid smell. She’d thought it was blood, Creed’s blood, but as she studied the faces of the men, she saw something strange in their eyes. Uncertainty.
They looked at their leader, sidelong looks that he wouldn’t see, but they were there. Creed brought something up that obviously a lot of them seemed to know something about. Or doubt. He voiced doubt in their leader. His words brought on a wild, sick fear that spread through the room, a fear caused by not knowing what another man was truly capable of, a fear of lies, a fear of… of fear itself.
She trembled with it and she didn’t even know what was happening. Who Crow was or who any of those men were. She did notice the mulling around, the shuffling of feet, the nerves they couldn’t conceal.
Creed kept right on going. His swollen eyes scanned the crowd. “Is there one of you here who thinks he isn’t capable of it? Jim always wanted Crow out of the way. He murdered our President. He’s done nothing but drive this club into the ground. We were once brothers. All of us. Our laws dictate that to harm another brother means death. A brother’s family is off limits. He’s turned us into addicts, into men who have no honor.”
“Shut up!” Jim’s face turned a bright scarlet. “Shut the fuck up! Lies! You’re the sickness in this place. You’re the fucking infection. Infection must be burned out. It needs to be cut out. You raped my daughter and you’re going to pay with your life. After… after you watch us take turn with your woman. You’ll feel my pain, the pain of a father who knows that his daughter has been violated. The pain of a father who-”
“He didn’t fucking do it.”
Silence fell over the warehouse, oppressive, thick. The place was huge, abandoned, with empty crates stacked along the walls, and old chains hanging overhead. A thick layer of dust coated everything. It was windowless, which made it the perfect place for these men to carry out their own form of justice.
The massive building was so silent, if a pin dropped, everyone really would have heard it. It wouldn’t have just been a stupid, cliche figure of speech.
Kate’s head jerked up and she watched an older man with silver hair step forward. He was well built, though nothing like Creed. Creed was a different kind of man. He was a mountain, like he’d been hewn from the earth with picks and chisels and given life by some celestial being. No other man in the room compared to him.
Jim’s head whipped around. “What the fuck did you just say?” Strands of spittle sprayed from his mouth and when he turned to the guy who was brave enough to speak up, Kate got a good view of rotten teeth. She shuddered.
“I said, he didn’t do it. Your daughter wanted him. She’s wanted him forever. We all knew it. Creed didn’t want her and her pride was hurt so she went and cried to you like a brat. She wanted him dead. Look at us. We’re here and we all know that it isn’t right.”
“Isn’t right?” Jim spat. “Isn’t right? You’re here because I tell you to be here!” He stabbed a thick, disgusting, nicotine stained finger into his leather clad chest. “Me! I’m the leader! Not this piece of shit. Not you. Not any one of you. No one has the balls to challenge me. So unless you want to end up the in the ground right along with him, you’ll step back and shut your fucking cunt mouth!”
Jim’s screams of rage echoed through the warehouse long after he was done speaking.
Kate knew they needed a miracle and then, it happened. Another man stepped forward. He was older as well, his dark hair and long beard streaked with silver. He eyed Jim up and squared broad shoulders. Though the guy couldn’t have been more than forty, he looked old and tired.
“Crow was a good man,” he said in a deep, steady voice. “A real good man. We were a family. The kid’s right. Since you took over, we’ve been nothing but slaves. Machines. We aren’t people. We have no rights. This isn’t a fucking club anymore. This isn’t what I gave my vow to. I swore to my brothers. This here, this isn’t a brotherhood. This isn’t anything. And I know for a fact, the kid isn’t lying when he said he didn’t rape your daughter. We all know how much you wanted to lead this. The problem is, you’re not a leader. You’re a sack of shit who likes the taste of power and women and blow. To you, that’s all life is. I have no doubt that you killed Crow.”
Jim’s face turned purple. He drew his gun and cocked it, held it straight out towards the man who had just challenged him. “Oh yeah? That fucking right? Anyone else?” He waved the gun around madly. “Anyone else want to meet their fucking maker today?”
The men shuffled anxiously. The guy who had just spoken stood there, so calm, so very calm. His face gave nothing away. He stared Jim down, like he was daring him to pull the trigger.
Kate looked around wildly. That’s when she saw it. A man, standing not more than a few feet away. His gun stuck out of the top of his pants, near the back. He’d edged closer, trying to get around them, behind Jim, in the opposite direction of where shit was about to go down.
She knew she had one chance. One chance to save Creed and maybe even herself.
She had to take it. She couldn’t let them die there.
<
br /> Not when she’d just figured out what it was to really live.
When she decided to move, that was it. She sprung off her knees and lunged forward. Her hands might have been tied, but she had the element of surprise. She grabbed the gun, and did exactly what Jack showed her.
She fell to the ground, gun extended, and fired blindly. Five times.
The shots went off before she’d even hit the cement again. She rolled as panicked voices, shouts and yells, rang out. And then the bullets rained down.
They came from all directions. Kate didn’t have time to watch. She knew if she was going to survive, she had to get behind something that would take the bullets for her.
She was already on her stomach, so she wriggled as fast as she could towards a stack of huge wooden boxes a few feet away. She was almost there, so very close, yells of panic and screams of pain and agony thick in the air, the pop of gunfire, the maddening sound of bullets spraying, when something hit her in the thigh.
She screamed as fire instantly took over. She kept on crawling, knowing if she stopped, she’d be as good as dead out in the open.
Finally, finally, she dragged herself behind the crate. She collapsed on the ground, tucking herself as low as she could. She kept her eyes open and glanced down at her leg. A puddle of bright red blood was already pooling beneath the area she’d been shot.
Holy fuck. Holy fucking hell. Oh god. No. No… please let Creed be alive. Please.
She shut her eyes when the trembling started. Her body shook, shook so hard she vibrated against the concrete floor. The gag was still in place around her mouth and she screamed uselessly against it. Tears leaked out of the corners of her eyes, both at the pain tearing through her body, searing bone and blood and muscle, but for Creed, who was in the middle of it all.
She’d had one chance, only one. She thought it would be a distraction. That if she distracted Jim long enough, Creed might get to him. Or maybe one of the two men who challenged him would take him down.
Why the hell had everyone started shooting each other? It was obvious that’s what had happened. She didn’t have to peek out from behind the crates to know that her shots set off a fucking chain reaction. The screams that filled the air, the acrid stench of gun powder and blood and dying men, reached her.
Creed: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Lonely Rider MC Book 3) Page 9