by K. L. Savage
“I already know I am. I just like to tease you.”
He puts me down, and my pussy slides against his cock. It hits my clit just right, and I whimper, wishing he’d slid into me right here. I’ll have to warm him up to the idea of someone watching us one day. I think he’ll love it.
“Boomer! Let’s go!” Reaper shouts at me from the hallway.
“I have a feeling you’re going to get me yelled at all the time,” Boomer mutters, taking my hand and dragging me behind him as we walk down the dark hallway.
The dark.
I really hate the dark.
I tighten my hand around his and do my best to be brave, but all I see are the chains and I can smell urine and stagnant water. I hear boots. So many boots thudding above me.
“Scarlett, hey, I got you, sugar. I got you.” Boomer spins around suddenly and picks me up. I wrap my legs around him and lay my cheek against his shoulder. Safe. I’m safe as long as I am in his arms. “I got you. Nothing is going to happen to you,” Boomer says and even though the hallway is dark, his voice brings light, and I’m able to take a breathe again.
We walk through a door, and the room is quickly illuminated. It smells like moth balls and old man, which makes sense, since it’s the office that Homer stays in most of the time. The guys are seated in various chairs, some standing, and the girls are sitting on the floor. Boomer puts me down, and I run over to Melissa who looks scared out of her mind.
The guys cheer and slap Boomer on the arm, and I’m confused as to why.
“Jenkins! Jenkins. Oh, you fuck me so good, Jenkins!” the man mocks as he slugs Boomer on the arm.
“Oh god.” I hide my face in my hands when I realize they heard me last night.
“Looks like you don’t have a little dick after all; not after all that howling we heard!” some guy that I don’t know slaps his knee, tossing his head back. For some reason, I feel the need to defend Boomer.
I stand and point my finger at the man with a screwdriver nestled above his ear. “His cock is huge, and I’m still sore. So all of you can shut up and stop giving him a hard time and get on with this meeting.”
Another guy with poufy hair and a young look about him squeals. “A hard time…”
All the guys snicker, and Boomer smacks the guy on the back of the head. “Poodle, shut up.”
“Why am I always the one getting slapped on the head!”
“’Cause you’re a fucking idiot.” The man who just spoke is huge with tattoos down his arms, and they peek under the collar of his shirt. He’s older and exudes power and authority. I can’t help but to sit down and listen. “Alright, we have a lot to talk about, and it all starts with you ladies.”
All eyes fall on us, and Melissa grips my hand. I clutch her fingers tight because while they are different than the men who took us, these men are also very similar.
I’ve gone down one rabbit hole only to come out and fall down another.
“Now, in order to make you ladies more comfortable, everyone is going to go around and introduce themselves. You’re safe here, okay?”
I nod, believing the man in charge. Homer walks in at that moment, carrying a tray that has a large pitcher of tea and some plastic cups. “Here you guys go.”
“Thanks, Homer,” Boomer says.
“Anytime.” His old voice shakes. He plops down in a ripped leather chair that looks just as old as he is.
“Alright, I’m Reaper. I’m Boomer’s stepdad.”
I want to ask what they do because their names are similar to the bikers who took us. Boomer would have told me, right?
“I’m Tool.” He half-ass waves and sticks a screwdriver in his pocket.
“I’m Poodle.” H= waves happily, his hand going a hundred miles an hour.
“Poodle?” Melissa asks softly. “Cause of your hair?”
Tool snickers. “Told you, you had bitch hair; just like your dog.”
“Fuck you! My dog is elegant and fucking classy.”
Melissa giggles, and it’s the first time I’ve ever heard it. Poodle’s head turns to Melissa, and his cheeks blush. He’s adorable.
“I’m Knives.” He’s handsome, but cleaner cut than the others. His hair is short, and he doesn’t have tattoos.
“You know me. I’m Badge.” He has tattoos everywhere. His shaved head and green eyes give him a look that tells me not to fuck with him.
No worries there.
“I’m Tongue,” a voice says from … somewhere. “You know me.”
All the girls turn around and look to see who’s speaking, but they can’t find a soul.
“Tongue, come out from the fucking corner,” Reaper says with exhaustion. “You’re being creepy. We’ve talked about this.”
“I like corners,” Tongue says slowly. “I see everything.”
His voice sounds like the monster in horror movies.
“I’m Bullseye. It’s ’cause I love darts, if you’re wondering.” He is big, muscle on top of muscle.
“You could say that,” Tool grumbles under his breath, and Reaper hits him on the back of the head.
“Ha! Fuck you. That’s what you get.” Poodle sticks his tongue out, and suddenly, Tongue steps out of the shadow and grips it. Poodle yells, and all the guys laugh, but I don’t find it funny.
“You need to be more careful what you do with that thing,” Tongue scolds Poodle, whipping out his knife. “It’s been so long.” The man truly terrifies me. He saved Boomer, but the way he’s rubbing his knife against Poodle’s tongue … it’s almost like he is hypnotized.
“Leave him alone!” Melissa speaks up, and all eyes turn to her. Her voice has no heat, but she gets up on shaky legs, using my shoulder to push herself up to stand straight. “You aren’t being nice.”
“I’m not nice,” Tongue hisses, pushing Poodle away by his tongue.
“What the fuck, man?” Poodle sounds like he can’t feel his tongue, mumbling the words.
“You shouldn’t have stuck it out,” Tool jabs.
“Children. Jesus. All of you. Get. Back. On. Track.” Reaper claps his hands after every word, but Melissa stares Tongue down, unafraid still.
“The little one is creeping me out. She’s staring at me,” Tongue whispers louder than intended to Reaper as he shrinks back in the shadows, as if he never existed in the first place.
“This is getting out of hand,” Reaper says, and Boomer rubs a hand over his mouth, hiding a smile as he winks at me. It tells me everything is going to be okay. Maybe all of this is normal.
“First…” Reaper grabs his chair and flips it around before sitting down. He has a silver wedding band on his finger, and I shouldn’t be surprised that the man is married, but I am. All of them seem too rough to know how to love, but then I look at Boomer, and I know I’m wrong.
Everyone is capable of love.
“I need to know what happened to each of you and how you got to the basement of that clubhouse. Second, I need to tell you that a few of us are going to make a trip over there for a visit.”
I shake my head, and Melissa panics, shaking her head quickly as hurries toward the door to escape, but Poodle grabs her, whispering something in her ear.
“I’m not going back there,” I say.
“No, no,” Reaper reassures. “You girls are staying here.”
“How can you make a visit? You don’t know them.”
“I know enough,” Reaper says. “This motel is now a safehouse. I’ve talk to Homer about it. He’s alright with it. A few guys will stay behind and keep you safe. Me, Boomer, Tool Bullseye, and Tongue, we’re heading out tonight. Word has it they’re having a party, and I want answers. Ladies, start from the beginning.”
I’ll ask Boomer why he has to go later. Joanna, Abigale, and Melissa keep their mouths shut, so I start my story first.
“And don’t leave a single detail out,” Reaper warns.
I go back to the first thing I remember.
Campus.
18
Boomer
Wolf, Knives, and Badge take the girls shopping and out to eat. I gave Scarlett my debit card and told her to have a grand time. I have plenty of money for only being twenty, but that’s what happens when your dad leaves a shit-ton of money after he dies, and every dime I made after that added to it.
The girls can’t be around because we’re loading up to pay a visit to the Atlantic City chapter. I think Scarlett is on to me, though. She knows something is off, and I’m hiding something. Lies never stay buried, and if I don’t speak the truth soon, I’ll get buried along the lie I’ve tried so hard to hide.
Everyone can lie. Reaper’s words echo in the back of my mind.
“Are we killing tonight?” Tongue asks as he sharpens his blade. He never carries a gun, only blades. And his favorite stays strapped to his side.
“Not if we can help it,” Reaper says, shrugging on his cut. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it, and I immediately miss what I left behind.
I hold my cut in my hand, debating if I want to put it on; not because I don’t want to, but because I know I don’t deserve it.
“I wouldn’t want you to put that on either.” Tool decides to chime in as he loads his gun in the holster. “It’s not like you deserve it.”
“Tool!” Reaper slams his palm on the table. “We can’t have shit like that between us tonight. We have no idea what we’re about to see or do. We need to be prepared and have each other’s backs. If you can’t do that, then you can stay here. You’re my VP, and you still owe a debt for what you did to my wife; this would only be the beginning. Don’t act like you’re fucking perfect,” Reaper snarls. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Prez,” Tool obliges and shrugs his cut on, glaring at me through hateful eyes.
It’s going to take a long time for me to gain Tool’s trust. Staring at the same cut my father wore, I put it on, and something inside me eases. I had no idea how much I missed it. I’ve grown in the short amount of time I’ve been gone. I’ve realized things about myself that I would have never come to terms with back home in Vegas.
I’m ready.
“Good. Everyone ready?” Reaper asks, eying all of us. “Good. Let’s ride.”
Tool is out the door, stomping his heavy boots like a child having a tantrum. Reaper shakes his head in disappointment and tugs on his hand through his hair. I’m not nervous. If anything, I’m excited. I have my lighter, grenades, dynamite; everything a man needs to have a good time. I’m ready to blow shit up.
“I see that fucking look in your eye. Forget it. It isn’t happening. Not tonight.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Reaper,” I say with a shrug of my shoulder as I mount my bike. I haven’t ridden in days. Why have ignored this part of myself? Why have I hated it? It’s who I am. I’m made for this.
Ruthless is in my blood, and I can’t turn my back on it again. I fucked up once, and I refuse to repeat history.
Reaper snorts and revs the loud engine of his bike. “Yeah, I just bet you don’t, kid.”
I toss my head back in a sardonic laugh, rolling out of the parking lot and onto the road. Since I know where this shithole of a clubhouse is, the guys follow me. The bikes roar down the highway, the lights of the casinos painting the night sky, while the ocean rolls to the right. It’s fucking beautiful here.
I wouldn’t mind staying, but I don’t know how that can happen. My home is far away from here, but going anywhere without Scarlett isn’t an option. I can’t hang my cut up again, not for anybody. That’s not today or tomorrow, so I don’t have to think about it now.
With the wind in my hair and the smell of the ocean in the breeze, another piece of me heals as my mind quiets. Only people who have constant turmoil in their heads will understand what I’m going through. It’s an uphill battle, trudging through mud and self-judgment. I lose half the time, believing the things my mind tells me.
But I’m getting better.
Piece by broken piece of me, I’m becoming whole.
We drive fifteen minutes and roll down a road that I can tell isn’t used a lot. We get deeper into the woods, away from the noise of the boardwalk, a place I really want to take Scarlett when all this is over, but I can’t have her in public with this hanging over her head.
The old wooden house comes into view on the right. Bikes are parked along the gravel path, and a few members are outside wearing their cuts and getting blown by their club whores. This place is a bad. I knew that when I saw it the first time, but seeing it again with everyone here, I can’t believe this chapter is still active.
There’s a shack behind the house with chains, and I know whatever they have hiding back there can’t be good.
The roof is sagging, and the shingles are peeling off. The house itself looks like it hasn’t been lived in centuries. The paint is worn, and the wood is rotted. It’s a shame something so ugly is surrounded by a beautiful environment. The trees are tall and bright green, leaves galore creating shadows from their canopies, and this backwoods fucking MC has their junk littering all over it—
old cars and parts and trash.
Out in the front yard there is a fire pit roaring, and a few guys have their shirts off, smoking weed from the smell of it, and staring at us like we’re trespassers.
Please. If anyone is a trespasser, it’s them; stepping all over the Ruthless King brand how they are. I want to unclip a grenade and shove it in their mouth just like I did Sarah’s abuser. Just thinking about it has shivers of anticipation tremoring my skin. Fuck, I need something like that, and maybe I’ll feel better.
The bikes loud, grumbling engines come to a stop as we park away from the club’s motorcycles. I want my shit nowhere near them, just in case their scum rusts my fucking wheels.
“Damn, he looks like shit,” Reaper says, staring at a man who just walked out the front door to lean against the porch beam. He’s a big guy, not bigger than Reaper, but almost. He doesn’t have on a shirt, just his cut, and his greasy hair flows down to his waist, greasy and unwashed. He smokes a cigarette as he looks our way.
“You know him?” I ask from the side of my mouth.
“Kid, I know fucking all the Prezs in the Ruthless chapters. I haven’t seen Venom in a long time, though.” We all slowly walk toward the clubhouse, and I can’t believe my ears. Reaper knows these assholes. “And no, I had no idea what he was doing.”
That answers my next question.
“Holy shit, if it isn’t the man himself,” Venom greets with a large smile. His teeth are yellow and rotted, and his arms are laced with track marks from drugs. Just what the hell is going on here? Venom prances down the steps happily, and his crew backs him as he meets Reaper halfway.
“Venom. It’s always good to see you, man. Been a long time.” Reaper hugs him, slapping him on the back like they’re old time friends who used to kick back and have a beer.
He has some explaining to do.
Venom looks truly happy to see Reap. He smiles, keeping his hands on Reaper’s arms, patting his biceps every few seconds. “Fuck, man, it’s been what … fifteen years? What the hell brings you to my neck of the woods? Come on inside. I’ll have the prospects bring you and your crew some beer.”
“Ah, my boys never got to throw me a bachelor party, so we came to the city, and let me tell you, it has not disappointed!” Reaper hoots, and Tool howls in pursuit, hyping the lie up as much as he can.
Venom grabs Reaper’s left hand and looks at the wedding band. “Holy fucking shit; you got married? The Reaper? The same guy who had different pussy every night in his bed for years. Shit, we have to celebrate.” Venom throws his arm around Reaper’s shoulders. “Atlantic City never disappoints! Does it, boys?” he asks his brothers, and all the guys holler and clap. “We’re going to get fucked up tonight and, Reap, my man, I have a few things in store for you. You’re going to fucking love it.”
Yeah, something tells me we’re going to hate it, and we’re leaving here tonight wi
thout doing a goddamn thing because we need them to think we’re on their side before we take them down. We need more information. Are there more girls? Are other chapters involved in this? The girls who have been sold, can we save them?
So much information needed and not enough time to get it.
The place is familiar to me as we walk inside. I immediately look toward the basement door, the one that hides their secrets and torment. I want to go and see if there are women down there who need help, but I can’t, and it kills a little part of me.
The clubhouse is a lot different than the one in Vegas. This one is a plain looking house, definitely not enough room for all the members to come and stay if they wanted. A few poker tables, plain round tables, and there’s a makeshift stage in the back with a stripper pole. Jesus, that thing looks like it’s about to fall over.
“Like poker, huh?” I ask, knowing I have the best poker face anyone has ever seen.
“It’s how we make our money, boy.” Venom drags out a chair from the table. It has dark stains on it, some light, and I don’t even want to know what they are. Fucking nasty. Don’t get me wrong, men are fucking pigs, but this club, these people, they’re dirty in every sense of what the word means.
“My name is Boomer, not boy,” I growl in annoyance from the childish insult he just threw at me. Only Reaper and the men in our club get to call me whatever the hell they want. I sit and look around, seeing one of the rooms blown to bits from my grenade. “What happened there?” I tilt my chin to the scraps of wood that are broken and burnt. The dirt under the house shows, seeing a huge hole in the ground.
He holds up his hands. “Sorry, meant no offense. You’re just young. You look like your balls have barely dropped.”
I grind my teeth together, wanting nothing more than to kill the man. Maybe I’d play with him first. I’d make fuses out of his fingers, light them, and watch them spark. Yeah, that sounds good. I’ll do that when I get the chance.