Fighter: The Devil's Highwaymen Nomads #4

by Claire C. Riley

  “I promise that you’ll like it,” I whispered darkly in her ear before sucking her earlobe into my mouth.

  Her body tensed at my words before she swung back, hitting me in the side of the head this time.

  But then she was dropping like a box of rocks to the bottom of the ocean. A dead weight in my arms, just like I’d planned. I shoved her limp body back inside her own car and popped the hood so I could reconnect the ignition before sliding into the driver’s side and pulling away.

  Her unconscious form slid in the seat, her body flaccid, but she’d be fine.

  I rubbed at the tender spot on the side of my head where she’d hit me. Bitch had a mean right hook. Bet it would have hurt like a motherfucker if she would have caught me properly too. I slid my gaze over to her with a scowl, but it dropped quickly. None of this shit was her fault; it was her father’s. Asshole needed to learn to keep in line, and hopefully losing his little princess for a couple a days would teach him the pecking order of things.

  An hour later I pulled up outside the safe house and carried her still-limp body inside. I’d already made a room up for her. Nothing special, just a bookcase with a handful of books on it and a big ol’ bed in the middle. I’d done my research on her and learned that not only did she like to do yoga but that she was also a huge fan of fantasy books. Girl was beautiful, intelligent, and feisty—my favorite three things in a woman. It was a shame we hadn’t met under different circumstances or we could have had some fun together.

  I laid her on the bed and cuffed her hands to the metal frame of the headboard before sitting down next to her and untying the laces of her black boots. They weren’t the cute little high-heeled ankle boots that the girls at the club wore. These were great big shit-kickers, and my balls shriveled up at the sight of them. Even the thought of them smashing into my nuts was enough to sending them running for the hills.

  I slid them off and put them on the other side of the room from her. Just in case.

  This job should be an easy one—watch the girl until daddy dearest decided to play by our rules, then drop her back off home—yet from everything I’d learned so far about her, I had a feeling things would be anything but simple.

  She was beginning to stir, the chloroform wearing off, so I took that as my time to leave for the moment and headed out of the room, closing and locking the door behind me. I headed across the hall to my room and clicked on the small screen on the old dressing table next to my bed, watching as she groaned, her forehead scrunching up as she started to properly come to. The camera I’d set up was connected to an app on my phone and several small screens placed around the safe house so I could watch her at all times.

  Penny rolled onto her back, one hand coming up to touch her face, and my mouth quirked up in a smile, dark thoughts running through my mind. Chloroform gave you a real bitch of a headache afterwards, but it soon passed.

  Her eyes suddenly sprang open, her face creasing in pain from the bulb overhead that I’d left switched on. She looked around, panic crossing her face before being replaced with anger.

  “Hello?” she called, her words echoing from the across the hallway just as they came out of the small screen in front of me. “I’m not afraid of you.”

  My smile grew wider. “You should be, darlin’.”

  There was something about seeing a woman like this—tied up, captive and completely at my mercy—that was beautiful. Her pale skin being rubbed by the metal of the cuffs around her wrist making it red and tender, her hair in disarray around her face as she took in her surroundings. I could only imagine how fast her heart was beating right then. I dragged a hand over the short stubble on my chin as I watched her, listening to her calls from the other room.

  I pulled out a joint and lit it, enjoying the heady feeling that hit me as I took in a lungful of smoke. I lay back on my bed and watched her thrash around in frustration, the rattle of the metal cuff on the frame and her calls getting louder as she panicked more and more.

  I relaxed back into my pillow with my arms behind my head. The more she panicked, the bigger my smile became. The sounds of her angry yelling were like a fucking serenade to me, soothing my soul like a cooling balm. It was sick, I knew deep down it was, but I’d learned a long time ago to accept these things about myself.

  I drifted off to sleep feeling calmer than I’d been in a damn long time.

  “Scream, princess, scream for me,” I mumbled as sleep sucked me under.

  If music be the food of love, then her screams were going to be the backdrop to our dark romance.

  ~ 4 ~

  Penny

  My head pounded painfully, my brain throbbing with every pulse of my heart. I grimaced and groaned, reaching up to touch my head, startling myself at the sound of metal on metal as the cuffs wrapped around each of my wrists clanged loudly on the metal headboard again.

  Shit.

  This wasn’t good.

  It wasn’t good at all.

  I opened my eyes, wincing as the bright sunshine glared in at me. I attempted to look around, seeing the unfamiliar surroundings of a bedroom and wondering where the hell I was.

  “Hello?” I called out, my voice sounding croaky from thirst and a full night of screaming. “Hello?”

  Most girls would have kept quiet—a lame, simpering wreck, waiting for their prince to come and rescue them—but I knew the truth: there were no princes, no kings, and no knights in shining armor coming to save you. If you wanted saving, you saved yourself.

  The sound of footsteps in the hallway outside the door sounded out and I shoved backwards and tried to sit up but the stupid cuffs bit into my skin, making me hiss in pain.

  “I’m not afraid of you!” I called when the shadow under the bedroom door stilled. “Do what you want, but my daddy won’t pay.”

  It was true.

  I may have been my daddy’s little girl, but he didn’t bow down to anyone, for anything. Not even for his only daughter. He was Razuuk Benite, one of the biggest arms dealers this side of Atlanta. He didn’t give a shit about anyone or anything, unless it could line his pockets.

  I dropped my head back down to the pillow and closed my eyes. I was exhausted, thirsty, and everything ached. But I was Penny Benite, and my father’s demon blood ran through my veins, which meant that I wouldn’t give up, not until my last dying breath, and even then I’d be fighting against the dying of the light, screaming murder and pain on those that had brought me to that point.

  “Oh for God’s sake,” I yelled, my voice cracking on my words as I rattled my chains like an animal in a zoo. “At least bring me some water!”

  I looked up sharply at the sound of floorboards creaking, watching as the doorknob turned and the door slowly pushed inward. I craned my head, both terrified and eager to see who was there. Who was stupid enough to go up against my daddy and think that they would live to tell the tale. Because whoever it was was a dead man.

  Standing in the space beyond was a demon.

  Cold, dark eyes, sharp features that looked like they were chiseled from marble, and wide, muscular shoulders that filled the doorway. He cracked his knuckles and cocked his head to one side, like an animal assessing its prey. He wore a mask over the bottom part of his face to hide his identity—a black piece of material—but it didn’t matter. I would never forget his eyes.

  They reminded me of death.

  Cold and empty. Devoid of anything good.

  I swallowed hard, my heart pummeling against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

  He hadn’t said anything, and as the moments passed by, fear spiraled inside me, worry bubbling in my gut like spoiled milk. I wasn’t the sort of woman to scare easily; I’d seen too much too young to be scared of things that went bump in the night, or things hiding in the dark. But this man, this monster, he scared me.

  He was like staring into a vast ocean of evil.

  My skin pebbled with trepidation. But I took ahold of my fear, like I had throughout my whole life, refusing to
bow to it.

  “Don’t just stand there staring, get me some water!” I bit out, fear and anger making my tongue loose.

  My heart continued to hammer against my rib cage and I subconsciously squeezed my thighs together, suddenly terrified of what he might do. The ghost of his rough touch between my legs coming back to me. Yet I still refused to back down. Like a cat being stalked, my hackles were raised, and I was a hissing beast, ready to thrash and fight for my safety.

  He still hadn’t spoken, but his cold eyes washed over me, making me feel naked and vulnerable. Like I was already open to him, ready for him to defile me. It felt like he could see all the way into my soul, brushing my walls and barriers to one side with a flip of his large hand just to see the frightened woman behind them all.

  It felt like he knew me, but there was just no way, because I’d recognize those eyes anywhere.

  I swallowed and dropped my head back to the pillow, though my gaze stayed on him as he stalked toward me. I set my jaw firm and glared harder as he came closer, his musky scent washing over me like a drug, making my pulse race.

  His steps were deliberate, his fluid movements accentuated by his tight black T-shirt and blue denim jeans that clung to every bulging muscle in his body. The outline of his jaw was strong and prominent through the material; it could have been chiseled out of stone or carved from marble. His skin was flawless, dark lashes over black eyes. He was beautiful and terrifying all at the same time. He was the Devil personified.

  He opened the bedside drawer and pulled out a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and waited for me to lift my head. My gaze moved from him to the bottle and back to him again.

  “How do I know you haven’t poisoned it?” I asked, miraculously controlling my voice so it didn’t shake.

  Something animalistic flared in his eyes before they fell dead and cold again. “You don’t,” he growled out, his deep baritone voice rumbling through my body and heading straight to my core.

  Two words were all he spoke, but those two words carved themselves into my soul, branding me with every syllable. We stared at each other for a long moment, neither of our gazes wavering. Taunting each other with our stubbornness.

  His expression had gone blank again, but that wasn’t to say there wasn’t life in his features. Despite the empty look on his face, there was so much there. Staring into his eyes was like staring into a never-ending abyss. You could see the whole damn universe in his eyes—stars light years away, the earth from above, the sea from below, the Milky Way and the Northern Lights. The whole universe was trapped in his eyes, as if he was a black hole sucking everything into him, never to escape.

  He suddenly reached out and clamped a rough hand around the bottom of my jaw before squeezing until my mouth opened. I thrashed on the bed as he started to pour the water into my mouth, the warm liquid sliding down my throat and splashing over my chin and down my chest. I coughed and spluttered, writhing to get away from him, but he held me with one hand, pouring until the bottle was empty.

  He stared down at me while I choked and gasped, spitting out water. “Are you insane!” I screamed in his face as he let go of my jaw and threw the bottle to one side. “You could have killed me.”

  He bent low, one hand reaching out to slide along my bicep and up toward my hands. His fingers were callused and rough and they dragged against my smooth skin. He leaned in closer, his cold eyes holding me in place. When his hand reached my fingertips, they began their slow descent back down my arm, over my shoulder and across my collarbone, and down my side until his hand reached my hip.

  “Darlin’, if I wanted you dead, you’d already have maggots feasting on you,” he drolled casually.

  I was frozen to the bed, my body feeling ten times heavier as I tried to push myself into the mattress so I could disappear from his view and his wicked touch. His gaze left mine and moved to my mouth as his hand gripped my hip roughly, giving my body a little tug.

  I refused to be scared of him.

  To be terrorized by him.

  To show fear in the eyes of a monster.

  As he leaned over me, I gathered up the spit in my mouth and spat it in his face. It splattered across the bridge of his nose and the material that covered the lower part of his face. Keep your hands off of me,” I gritted out.

  He reached up, his hand leaving a cold patch where it had been on my hip, and swiped away the spit from his face before dragging his palm down his jeans and standing up straight. He stared down at me unapologetically. Like I was nothing to him but a slab of meat he’d throw away when the time came.

  “I’ve got orders to keep you alive, little girl,” he said, his voice low and deep, imprinting itself in my brain. “At least for now.”

  My nostrils flared at his words, but the animal inside me wouldn’t be tamed. “Come closer and say that,” I taunted with a sneer. “I fucking dare you.” I shook my arms in their restraints and glared at him.

  The cloth twitched and I imagined him smiling beneath the material. “You need to be tamed,” he growled.

  “And you need to fuck off,” I snapped back, shaking my arms again and making the metal of the cuffs clang noisily on the bedframe. I was in no position to make demands or orders. Certainly, no position to threaten him, and yet here I was.

  The material twitched again and a deep rumble of a laugh escaped him. His laughter held no humor and instead filled me with dread.

  He bowed with a wave of his hand. “As you wish.”

  He took a step away from the bed and turned on his heel before heading back across the room, his strides long and purposeful. He didn’t look back at me as he left the room, closing and locking the door behind him.

  I breathed a sigh of relief and let my head fall back to the pillow, thoughts of the man with the dead eyes taunting me. I wondered what he’d meant with his parting words, but decided him not being anywhere near me was the safest option at the moment anyway.

  The most I could hope for was that my daddy would come up with a plan to find and kill this asshole before he tried to fulfill his threat of taming me. Daddy wouldn’t risk his life for anyone, not even for me, and he certainly wouldn’t waste his money on saving a woman—even if I was his daughter, but if he thought he was being disrespected then he’d burn the world to ashes to show them who was in charge.

  I could only hope that his temper got the better of him and he found me soon. Because I dreaded to think what would happen when my temper and this psycho’s temper got the better of either of us.

  It would be a war to end all worlds. Because there was no way in hell either of us would be the first to back down. And if we didn’t back down, I had no doubt that we’d both destroy everything around us.

  ~ 5 ~

  Fighter

  “You get her?” Gauge asked, the smoke from his cigar billowing between his lips.

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “You hurt her?”

  “No.”

  “You going to?”

  “Are you ordering me to?”

  “No.”

  “Then I’ll see how well she behaves.”

  Gauge chuckled. “She as feisty as they say?”

  I cracked my knuckles, my mind going back to her tied to the bed—arms stretched above her head, her thighs squeezing together and her eyes burning with fire. Her whole body practically trembling with untamed rage.

  She was beautiful and crazy, her temper turning her into a wild storm that, left unchecked, would blow this whole world to pieces. She was used to being controlled, that much was obvious, but that didn’t mean she accepted it. She hated to be told what to do, and she had more fight in her little finger than I’d seen in any other woman I’d met in my whole life. I wanted to tame her. To bring her to her knees and have her simpering for me. As if in agreement, my dick stirred.

  But that wasn’t the plan—or the job.

  “Fuck yeah,” I grunted.

  Gauge smirked and puffed on his cigar some more. “You’
ve got her handled though?”

  I side-eyed him and he held his hands up in defense and laughed again.

  “Just checking.”

  “Since when did you need to check my work?”

  He sighed heavily, all amusement leaving him, and his next words clearly weighing on him. “Since we’ve got a mole in the club, brother. Can’t trust anyone right now.”

  I turned and glared at him. “We need to flush them out,” I bit out.

  I was going to take them apart piece by piece when I found out who it was. I’d make them suffer by making them watch as I hurt every person they’d ever cared about, and then I’d cut out their tongue and feed it to them. I’d fucking let them live afterwards too, as a warning to anyone else who tried to cross my club or my brothers.

  The Devil’s Highwaymen ran Atlanta, and every fucker needed to be reminded of that one simple fact. You crossed us, and your whole family would pay.

  “We’re working on it,” Gauge replied.

  “It ain’t happenin’ quickly enough. Skinny needs revenge for what they did to him. Battle too. Quinn almost died because of this fucker, and they need to know that they can’t cross us and get away with it.” I gritted my teeth, my breathing coming fast and hard. Whenever I thought about that night, I felt the rage crawling up my throat like a serpent. Anger seeping into my bones, begging for retribution for my brothers.

  “Hardy doesn’t want to rush this shit and end up pointing the finger at the wrong person.” Gauge spat some tobacco to one side and threw his cigar away. “I might not agree with his speed, but I can understand his logic.”

  Fucking Hardy. He was my president, but just lately I’d been coming to the conclusion that he was more out for himself than his brothers. That this wasn’t a club but a way for him to direct us to do his dirty work. The strange thing was, being a soldier for the Devil’s Highwaymen had never been clean work, yet it was only recently that I’d begun to feel dirty from it.