by K. L. Savage
“Boomer,” I say in shock. I thought I’d be furious seeing him again, but I’m relieved.
“Hey, Tool.” He steps forward, and a few guys flank his sides. He has a patch on his cut that says President, and the guy next to him has a VP patch. His name is Arrow, which makes sense because the fucker is carrying a bow over his shoulder. The next guy is Kansas. I remember him from Jersey, but Arrow not so much. And then there is Wolf, with a patch that says Sargent in Arms. He stayed around. Good. He’s good men for an MC to have.
“It’s good to see you, man. Have you seen Sarah?” I give him a quick hug then nod toward all the guys. “Nice to see you on your feet. Decide what to name your MC?”
“No, not yet. Still debating if I want to keep it a Ruthless chapter or not. We are rebuilding, so there’s no rush. And I haven’t seen her yet.” He scratches his head, and the big bad President of his new club looks nervous. “She okay? I want to talk to her after we all talk, and you can update me on what’s going on. Is it anything like what happened in Jersey?”
I shake my head, trying to connect to see if there are any dots. “No, it’s nothing like that. We think there’s an underground fight club with a prostitution ring, and that’s where they are keeping…” My voice breaks from emotion, and I stop myself from speaking for a second. I can’t look like a pussy in front of a hundred badass bikers. “That’s where my mom and Juliette are. Go talk to Sarah. Reaper and I need to plan. I think I have the perfect way to get in that house.”
“Well, I’m ready to blow shit up whenever you want me to. I’m going to go talk with my sister and hope she doesn’t kill me. It’s been awhile.”
“She misses you.” Reaper nudges him. “She needs you. Go on.”
Kansas and Arrow stay behind while Wolf walks with him, but Boomer tells Wolf to stay behind. The guy looks absolutely lost since he has to stay back with the rest of us. We watch Boomer’s blank cut walk away from us, and it’s hard to believe he lives all the way in Jersey now, settled down with an ol” lady and everything. When the hell did that happen? Crazy.
“What’s your plan?” Reaper asks me, leading me to the bench where Voodoo and Caster are. I growl low in my throat at Reap. He’s making me sit down near them on purpose.
“Well, we can buy our way in a fight. It can be a distraction while a group of guys look for the girls.”
“Who’s going to fight?” Poodle asks from beside Caster. Lady is laying by his feet alongside Yeti. Hell, I’m glad my dog has found his home with everyone. I’ve been a shitbag owner for not being around more.
“I can fight,” the prospect Tim speaks up, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looks at us with big eyes through thick lenses.
The entire auditorium goes silent, and Tim’s large Adam’s apple bobs with nerves. He feels all the eyes on him, and it’s causing him to squirm.
“Tim, how much do ye weigh? A buck ten, soaking wet? Hell, my left nut is bigger than ye; no offense, lad.”
“Really? No offense? You compared me to your nut, Skirt. And I weigh one hundred and fifty pounds,” he mutters, shy and timid, but he flexes his muscles anyway to show us his scrawny arms. My pit bull has more muscle than he does.
Jesus Christ, he’ll get killed if we put him in a fighting ring.
Reaper rubs a hand over his face, and Tank chuckles quietly behind Tim. “I appreciate your enthusiasm, Tim, but you’re a little small—”
“No really, I can fight. I can take down any guy. Swear,” he says, puffing out his chest. “Put someone up against me now, and I’ll take them down.”
“Your funeral,” Reaper replies, clearly not believing Tim and, to be honest, I don’t either. “But this I got to see. Voodoo, pick one of your guys.”
“Reaper,” I hiss his name, wondering what he’s doing. “They could cheat using their New Orleans … stuff.”
“Thought ya didn’t believe in it?” Voodoo grins cheekily, popping a peanut in his mouth. He finds my discomfort amusing, and it isn’t funny. Whatever shit they’re into really freaks me the hell out.
“I don’t,” I grumble and take a seat right next to Caster who gives me a knowing grin as he lights up a joint then hands it to me. “No, thanks.” I’ll probably end up tripping fucking balls with whatever witchy shit he put in that, and I need a clear head. I’m not about to fuck up this plan and risk Juliette’s life because I got high.
“Bones!” Voodoo shouts then cackles like a hyena when the biggest motherfucker I’ve ever seen stands up. He must be nearing seven feet with muscles the size of boulders. One of his arms must weigh the same as Tim, but when I take a glance at Tim, he doesn’t seem the least bit worried.
Bones shakes the entire auditorium as he stomps down the bleachers, like a fucking giant. His ears have gages with these white iron looking horns through them. His cut looks like a damn crop top women wear. I have a feeling they don’t make his size.
“You sure about this, Braveheart?” Bones’ voice is so deep, and I can hardly understand him, but his nickname for Tim just may stick. Takes a lot of balls to be small and volunteer to fight in an illegal underground fight club.
“Why do they call you Bones?” Tim asks, popping his neck and stretching his arms as they stand in the middle of the gym floor.
“Because I break them,” Bones says before bringing his massive fist through the air, which is the size of Tim’s head. One hit from that thing, no wonder bones break.
Tim ducks quickly, and everyone gasps to watch the little one move between Bones’ legs. Tim climbs up him like a tree, wraps an arm around Bones’ neck, and presses against his jugular until Bones falls to his knees. His eyes roll back, and he passes out. Tim jumps down like a damn spider monkey and if a pen fell in the room, there’s no way it couldn’t be heard because no one in this room is breathing.
“Holy shit!” Reaper gasps, then slowly a chant forms, and all the bikers are stomping and yelling, “Braveheart.”
Tim looks downright tickled and proud of himself. He’s blushing and looks shy, but when he fought, he had the confidence of Bones.
“Prospect, you do this, you can have your patch and the nickname.”
“Really?” He pushes those damn frames up his nose again, looking dorky as hell. I’ve been wondering what he can bring to the club, and he’s just proven himself.
“Really, this works out because no one has seen your face, so when you enter the house, they won’t be suspicious. It’s time for us to plan, fellas,” Reaper announces. Boomer comes into the auditorium with a red cheek, giving Sarah a piggyback ride like they used to do when they were younger. Well, I’m glad they patched things over.
It’s time to figure this shit out because by tonight I’m going to have my girl in my arms and my mom home where she belongs.
My screwdriver is going to be lodged in the sheriff's forehead, and if there’s one thing I know I’m good at, it’s how to kill a parent.
20
JULIETTE
Loud music pounds outside, and the walls bend and vibrate with every beat of the bass, but it isn’t as loud as the crowd. The roar of cheers from people gathering for the fight or for what comes after it ends. I’m scared out of my mind, confused, and angry. My dad spent so many years training me to fight, but then he ends up doing this? Was it all a ruse just to keep me off his real intentions?
“I’m sorry,” Whitney says for the hundredth time. “I know how confusing it must be.”
“It just doesn’t make sense,” I mumble a reply, staring at the wall in front of me. I’ve traced the same crack in the wall with my eyes for hours.
“Psychopaths rarely do.”
Yeah, I’m gathering that.
The familiar clunky metal door slides open at the end of the hall, and laughter follows. I know that laugh anywhere. It’s my dad. His heavy footsteps sound my fate as he gets closer. He stands in front of the cell with a beer in his hand, and at some point during the day he changed out of his uniform into black jeans and a black
t-shirt.
His hands grip the bars and yanks the door open, sliding it to the left. “Party is about to start, pumpkin.” He pops the p with a sly grin, a look of humor on his face. “Come meet your guests. They’re really looking forward to it.” He comes to the side of the bed, and his hand is cold from the beer he is holding. He pulls my head back and tilts the bottle over my face until the cold carbonation hits my lips and forces its way down throat. Then he moves the neck of the bottle, letting the beer rush over my eyes and face. I sputter, spitting the beer out of my mouth. I wish I had control of my hands because my eyes are burning from the alcohol. “You need to relax. Take another swallow.”
“Leave her alone!” Whitney shouts, fighting against the restraints on her wrists to try to stop him.
“Don’t make me sew your mouth just, bitch.” He spins around and backhands her, his palm connecting to her cheek so hard Whitney’s head flies back and smacks against the wall, knocking her out cold.
“Whitney!” I call out as my dad picks me up by my neck and shoves me off the bed.
“Shut up. Get to walking!” His hand lands flat against my back and pushes me forward until my chest hits the metal bars. I cry out when my collarbone hits the bars at an odd angle. My knees buckle, but dear old Dad is there to save me. “Stop being such a fucking klutz.” His hold on my arm is so tight, I’m afraid my bone will break. “We don’t have all night.” He shoves me out the door, and I hit the cell across from mine.
“Oh my god,” I whisper when I see two teenage girls handcuffed to their cots, naked, and by the looks of it, drugged out of their mind. “What are you doing to them? Let them go!”
Dad slides the door to my cell shut, keeping a tight hand on my wrist to control me. “Who, them? Don’t worry; their cunts are legal.” He brushes my hair back from my ear and chuckles. “I had a taste of them this morning. I’m surprised you didn’t hear me. They fucking loved it.”
“You’re a monster,” I whisper, staring at two young girls who can’t be older than eighteen with bruises on their thighs and needle marks in their arms.
“I’m a businessman, pumpkin. Rent has to get paid.” He pushes me forward again, my feet tangling against each other from the inability of gaining control of my momentum forced by my father’s hand. “Let’s get going.”
“Don’t do this. I know I have to mean something to you. For you to teach me how to defend myself—”
“You think I taught you that out of love?” He spins me around and slams my back against the wall before entering the door that leads to the loud music and cheering crowd. “Men love a woman who fights them. It makes the encounter that much more … intriguing.” He brushes my hair out of my face and pushes it over my shoulder. “Men love the thrill of subduing their victim—oops—I mean woman. Nothing is more thrilling than to see a woman get weaker the more they fight, but we men get stronger when we realize we’re winning.”
“You won’t get away with this,” I say with as much venom as I can muster with every ounce of hate I have in my soul for my father. As much love as I used to feel for him, that’s how much I despise him right now. If hate were enough, it would kill him where he stands.
“Oh, I’ve been getting away with it, pumpkin. For years.” He bends down to get closer to my face, and I turn my head, jerking away from him. My left cheek presses against rusty metal bars, and my dad kisses the exposed cheek. The man is sickening. “Come on, Juliette. It isn’t very nice to keep all these people waiting.” He grips my neck and guides me through the door, his fingers pressing against my jugular just enough to make breathing uncomfortable.
I’m not sure what to expect when I walk out the door. A living room? A kitchen? Something that looks like a house, but no, that’s not the case at all. All of the walls have been knocked out, and all that I can see is the frame of the house.
Normal house on the outside, empty shell on the inside.
A chain fence blocks wooden bleachers around the walls. People are grasping the fence, shaking the metal, screaming in my face as my father takes me to the middle of the room. It smells of smoke, alcohol, sweat, and blood. I wince when the light turns on, and I look down at my feet, seeing bloodstains on the plywood.
And is that…
A tooth?
That’s a tooth. Oh god, what the hell is this place?
“Thank you all for coming out tonight,” my dad announces, keeping a tight hold on my wrists. “We have a great show for you. Please, place your bets with Zig. There will be seven rounds. The winner will get my daughter, all to himself, to do with whatever he wants.” Deep roars sound from the left, and that’s when I see a line of very large men, all shirtless, staring at me with so much want it looks life-threatening.
It probably is.
“We have plenty of women for anyone who needs to take the edge off. Just come see me and pay a flat fee. All but the winner of tonight’s fights has to pay. If you’re new here, welcome to The Pit. If you’re a regular, welcome back. You know the drill.” Everyone screams after my dad gets done talking, and the music starts to blare again, shaking the wood under my feet.
“You’re going to be saved for the winner, pumpkin. I can’t have you all used up. That wouldn’t be very good of me,” he whispers into my ear, smiling as he waves at the crowd. It’s like he’s their god or something. “But let’s give the fighters something to fight for.”
I’m not following until he rips my shirt off my body and tosses it to the section where the fighters are. The men beat on the fence trying to get free as they’re teased with my body that I don’t want them to have. “This is what you’ll win, fellas. Young, beautiful, and I can guarantee her cunt is tight. All for you. You’ll get her for one night only.”
“No!” I try to wiggle free from my dad’s grasp when I realize his plans for me. I’m a trophy, and I doubt this is the last night. It’s going to be every night. “I don’t want this.” I fall down from my efforts of getting loose from his evil fingers. I’m on my knees, and that only makes the fighters froth at the mouth. The entire fence bends and shakes, and for a second I think they’re about to break it down. I kick my legs out, and it swipes my dad’s legs from underneath him, just like he taught me.
He only falls to his knees, and he grips me by the back of my head and slams my face against the rough plywood of the floor. My entire body falls limp, and I moan in pain when stars burst across my eyes. My surroundings blur.
“She’s a fighter too, boys. I made sure of that,” he says. “Let the fights begin!” he yells to get the crowd riled up, and everyone screams, waiting for the show to begin.
The clock is ticking, and I don’t think Logan will find me before I’m a fighter’s prize.
“Come up, pumpkin. Let’s get you presentable. Wouldn’t want you to look unappealing.” He lifts me up by my hair, but I don’t have the strength to get up, so he drags me by my brown locks. I lift my hands up to grab my scalp in hopes of alleviating the pressure and sting of my hair follicles.
“Help me,” I try to scream, but the pain in my head is stopping me, and the words come out a jumbled, slurred mess. “Someone,” I plead as he drags me down the steps. My tailbone smacks against the wood every time my body drops.
“Shut up. No one worthy comes to this place. You’re fucked, pumpkin. And you’re going to make me so much money.” He opens a door to a bedroom where an older woman is sitting at a vanity, long brown hair cascading down her back while powdering her face. “Make her look good.”
“I know.” She rolls her eyes and rubs her lips together after applying red lipstick. “This isn’t my first rodeo.”
“I know. You’re going to be the best whore around,” my dad purrs and tosses me on the bed. He leaves me there to go push his hands down the front of the woman’s lingerie set. “I want some of this later.”
“And you’ll get it.” Her voice sounds familiar, friendly, and comforting.
“Mmm, those tits.” He grunts as squeezes her breasts. �
��I’m going to fuck them then fuck you. You better be ready.”
“As ever,” the woman tells him in a flirtatious tone, ending on an innocent giggle.
Innocent. Right.
“Make her beautiful,” my dad orders and then exits the room, slamming and locking the door behind him.
“Juliette? Juliette!” the woman hisses. “Girly? Are you okay?”
I open my eyes, squinting them when I see Trixie staring at me with concern. She has on a wig and one of the lingerie sets from the store. When everything snaps in place, I roll off the bed to get away from her. “You were in on this! You traitor! I can’t believe you would do this to me!” I back myself in a corner, my wrists twinging when my skin gets caught in the metal hinges of the cuffs. I begin to sob, my heart breaking from all the betrayal I’m feeling. I can’t believe my friend, the person I’ve worked with for two years, and my father would do this to me.
“No, girly! Oh, god, no! I swear it, listen to me. I’m only here because Logan came to me and asked for help. He wondered how to safely get in the house without hurting you and the guy he has fighting right now. He didn’t want to risk your safety, and I knew a guy, who knew a guy, who knew a guy who wanted to go out with me, and I said I’d go out with him if he got me in here. It’s a little confusing, but Trixie has tricks up her sleeve, girly. I’m not going to do anything to you. You’re my girly! We are going to get you out of here.” She slaps my shoulder, a bit put off that I’d accuse her of turning against me. Can she blame me? Considering …
“Really? And Logan? You let my dad grab you. Why?”
“Because a whore has to play her part. There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Juliette. Let’s keep it that way.”
“What’s the plan?” I ask as Trixie digs into her hair, pulls out a bobby pin, and easily digs the tiny end into the cuff lock. I give her a questioning look, and she gives me a nervous smile.
“Don’t ask,” she says and then unlocks the cuffs on my wrist. “As of right now, they’re going to go about it the club way. The man who wins gets you, and the Ruthless Kings plan on winning.”