Twisted Tales of Mayhem

by Sapphire Knight

  “Too risky when we were just prospects,” Sarge responded. “Now that we’re patched in, we’re committed. No choice but to be loyal. Well, I guess we could choose to die.” He snorted out a soft laugh.

  “Goddammit.” Never in a million years had Viper imagined his dream turning into a shit-pile.

  “We gotta do something, V,” Sarge said. The guy’s moral code was looser than a whore’s twat. If he had a problem with this, the situation was pretty fucking bad.

  “Can’t do shit right now, brother,” Viper said as the van rolled to a stop. “Meet me at my place when this is done. We’ll come up with a plan.”

  The club had its fingers in just about every illegal pot in three counties. Drugs, guns, money laundering, even prostitution. They owned two cat houses full of women selling themselves on a daily basis. Viper never so much as blinked at any of it. Difference was, each and every one of those women came to the club willingly looking to work.

  This shit? The chick supposedly in the back of the van? Yeah, she was being sold to the highest bidder and Viper was pretty fucking sure she didn’t want to be.

  A short, stout man with a cheap rug and a stash that rivaled a seventies porn star climbed down from the driver’s side of the van. He walked with an exaggerated swagger befitting a cocky teenager trying to hang with the men. With the gold chains and tuft of chest hair peeking from the collar of his shirt, the man was practically a cartoon pimp.

  “Hey, Fox. Long time no see.” The man greeted Viper’s father with a limp handshake.

  “Yeah, sorry about that, Wayne. Had a cop sniffing around for a few months. Had to lay low with this shit,” Fox replied. His shoulder-length hair had gone gray a few years ago, but even at fifty, Fox managed to maintain a hard and intimidating physique.

  Wayne played with the longest of his necklaces. “Heard about that. Glad it’s all cleared up.” He sent a smarmy smile Fox’s way. “Got you a beaut this time, boys. Rich little princess. Virgin too.” He whistled. “She’ll be fun as shit for your buyer to break.”

  Vipers stomach turned as his father, and the rest of his cronies laughed. Viper grew up in the club. Not a single day went by where he wasn’t at the clubhouse for some reason or another. He’d spent thousands of hours around the men. From the time he was twelve, he’d caught snippets of club business he never should have been privy to. Never once, did anyone let slip that they trafficked women.

  “This is fucked,” Sarge muttered, cracking his knuckles.

  “Keep it in check, brother,” Viper whispered back. “We can’t do shit right now. Save it for later.”

  “Bring her on out,” Fox said. “My guy is looking for something real specific. I’ll check out the goods. She passes muster, we’ll pay.”

  Wayne’s beady eyes lit up. The motherfucker was practically salivating. Whoever the unlucky lady was, she must be going for a mint.

  Viper and Sarge stood about fifteen feet from the van, arms crossed, taking it all in. They’d been invited along as extra security on a “sensitive transaction.” Viper hadn’t thought twice about it. He trusted his new brothers implicitly.

  Or he had. Until he realized his old man was involved in the one criminal act Viper couldn’t stomach. Hardest part to swallow was that Fox fucking knew what happened to Vanessa and what it did to Viper. He fucking knew Viper would never go for this shit.

  As though knowing he was in Viper’s thoughts, Fox turned his way. Viper shoved down the newfound hatred for his father and gave the man a nod. A false show of support.

  Fox grinned. He was proud as fuck of his son for approving of the buying and selling of women.

  Fuck.

  Wayne fished a keyring out of his pocket. The thing made him look like an apartment super. After sifting through about thirty keys, he stuck one in the lock on the back door of the van and twisted. After pulling the heavy door open, he climbed in.

  Despite the near freezing temperature, sweat beaded across Viper’s forehead. He idly wiped it away. With each second that ticked by, tension coiled tighter. Where the fuck was she?

  After a few more seconds, Wayne hopped out of the truck with what could only be described as a leash in his hand. He paused, then reached out and roughly grabbed ahold of a woman. After yanking her out of the van, he shoved her toward Fox.

  She wobbled then fell to her knees at Fox’s feet.

  Viper’s father arched his back, and let out a loud booming laugh that had Viper’s fists clenching. “Appreciate the sentiment, darlin’, but I’m not the one you’ll be on your knees for.” Struggling to rise, she shivered. Viper swore he could hear her teeth chatter. When she rose to her full height, which couldn’t be more than five foot five, Viper let his gaze scan her body. Clad in nothing but bikini panties and a bra, it was no wonder she was so fucking cold. Bruises marred her upper arms, and her amber-brown hair was a tangled mess, as though she’d been struggling for hours. A leather collar ringed her neck, attached to the leash Wayne controlled. Despite the dirt and bruising, it was clear the woman had a body made for long sleepless nights of passion.

  Sarge moved, as though he was going to charge forward and take Fox out. Viper shot his hand out and caught his brother’s arm before the idiot got them both killed.

  “Rein it the fuck in,” he rumbled so low no one would hear.

  “Shit. Sorry. I’m cool,” Sarge muttered back, rubbing his hand over his head. “Just…”

  “Get it, brother. I really do.”

  Sarge nodded and scanned the area around them.

  Viper should be doing the same, but at that moment, the woman lifted her head, and he couldn’t do a damn thing but stare at her. Green eyes, full of defiance stared up at his father. Even with black tear tracks marking her cheeks, and her caramel-colored hair a rat’s nest, she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever seen. With that face and that body, it was no wonder some sick fuck was willing to pay big bucks for her.

  Viper felt a stirring below the belt. Shit, he was just as sick as the fucker who’d purchased her.

  “Hmm,” Fox hummed, the sly grin he was named for curling his mouth. “Not bad, Wayne. Pretty much exactly what I asked for.” He reached out grabbed the woman’s breasts. She jerked back, but with her hands bound, wasn’t able to end the unwanted fondling. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she trembled, but held her head high and toughed it out.

  She was strong.

  Viper growled, he couldn’t help it. Watching his father paw the unwilling woman was making him rabid.

  Sarge’s elbow connected with his gut.

  Fuck, he’d been too loud.

  Fox shot him a look then laughed. “See something you want, Viper, my boy? Sorry, this one’s not for the taking. At least not by you.” He stepped back and stared at her. “She is your type though, ain’t she? Don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll find you one just like her for the night.”

  Viper grunted in response. He didn’t trust himself to speak. Not without calling his father out on being a rapist piece of shit.

  “Excellent find, as usual, Wayne,” Fox said as he handed the slimy bastard a thick envelope. “There’s a little something extra in there for you. I know this one was hard to get.”

  Wayne’s smirk was more snake-like than Viper’s name. “Always good doing business with the Tribe,” he said as he took the envelope. As though this routine was rote, which Viper supposed it was, Wayne gave Fox a two-finger salute, slammed the back door of the van, then climbed in the driver’s seat. Without another word, he was off, leaving the victimized woman alone with five bikers.

  Fox rubbed his palms together, then blew into his cupped hands. “Fuck, it’s cold.” He chuckled. “You’d know, wouldn’t you, girly? “Legs,” he said to the club’s enforcer, a muscle head with quads the size of tree trunks. “Take her in, chain her to the bed. Her buyer is flying in on Tuesday to pick her up, so she’ll be our guest until then.” He narrowed his eyes. “Hands off, okay? Or at least keep them on the outside of her body. The
buyer was very specific. Rich, twenty-one, virgin, green eyes. Ain’t risking the two hundred grand pay off cuz your dick’s twitching. Get me?”

  Two hundred thousand dollars? Beside him, Sarge whistled.

  “Got it, boss.” Legs bent down and picked up the lead Wayne had dropped. “Let’s go, bitch.” He yanked the rope, jerking her forward, chuckling at her yelp of pain.

  Viper growled again. This time Fox missed it, but the girl didn’t. For just three seconds, before she started for the shack, her gaze collided with Vipers.

  It was like a punch to the gut and a stroke to the dick all at the same time.

  Terrified, but absolutely stunning green eyes stared into his as though pleading for mercy. He clenched his teeth so hard his jaw screamed for relief. Steeling his expression, Viper returned her stare with a hardened, impassive one.

  The tiny flare of hope his growl must have sparked died, and her shoulders slumped in defeat. Another tug on the rope had her jerking, and following Legs into the ramshackle house.

  Viper wanted nothing more than to rush forward, grab the girl, and toss her on the back of his bike. But they wouldn’t make it two miles before Fox had the whole club hunting their asses.

  He settled for trying to send her a telepathic message

  Hang tight, baby. Viper’s coming for you.

  Chapter Two

  No matter how tightly Cassandra huddled into herself or how vigorously she rubbed her arms and legs, she couldn’t warm up. The house wasn’t frigid, at least not compared to outside, but it certainly wasn’t toasty. And after what had to be nearly a day of being unclothed, she was chilled to the bone.

  Not that these men cared about something as trivial as her comfort. No, most kidnappers weren’t overly concerned with their captives’ contentment.

  God, she’d been kidnapped. And sold to the highest bidder like some kind of auction item. Straight out of a fucking movie, only she couldn’t walk out when it sucked.

  The overwhelming panic hovering all around threatened to overtake her again. Cassie rested her forehead on her bent knees and fought to steady her breath. It’d worked this far to keep her from losing control of her emotions. Who knew how long it’d be before she freaked.

  God, she was so stupid. The reason stereotypes about naïve rich girls existed. Apparently, she was precisely what some sick piece of work was looking for. A dumb, spoiled, sheltered rich girl who’d never had sex, and had no clue how the real world worked.

  Well, whoever he was, he’d gotten her. Or these asshole bikers had snagged her, and the buyer would get her in a day or so.

  And he’d break her. Or so the bikers kept saying as they laughed and pawed at her mostly naked body. Wouldn’t take much, she was so near broken already.

  Maybe whoever purchased her would be disappointed if she broke too quickly, and he’d return her. Was there some kind of trial period? A trade-in credit if she didn’t work out? A harsh laugh escaped into the quiet room. She was going crazy.

  “The fuck you laughing about?” an impatient voice asked as the door flew open.

  A beefy guy with a flaming red mohawk and freckles galore stood in the open doorway. He was one of the ugliest men she’d ever seen, with a clearly deformed nose and cauliflower ear on both sides of his head. A long scar ran straight across his forehead. Whoever he was, his face had been through the mill. Looked like this guy had replaced Legs at some point in the hours she’d been there. How many hours, she had no freaking clue. The men didn’t exactly leave a clock. Or a phone. Too bad the bikers were smarter than they looked.

  “Nothing,” she mumbled, keeping her eyes trained on the enormous booted feet standing in the doorway.

  The biker, whoever he was, grunted. “You ain’t got much to be laughing about right now, bitch.”

  Why the hell did they use the term bitch like it was some kind of common pet name? She’d been called bitch more in the past twelve hours than in her entire life.

  “Nothin’ to say?” He snorted out a laugh. “That’ll change fast. You’ll be saying yes, sir and no, sir all day long.” She glanced up just as he smirked. “Mostly yes, sir.”

  A run of terror skittered up her spine. Clenching her teeth, she tried to give him a formidable stare. She wouldn’t let him know how each and every word he spoke was a lightning strike of fear directly to her heart.

  “W-why are you doing this to me. I don’t want to be here. I’m not a willing participant. It’s kidnapping. And it will soon be rape.” For some reason, the why mattered to her. Was he in some sort of financial crisis? Struggling to feed a horde of children? Was this a desperate attempt to save his family? It certainly wouldn’t justify his actions, but it’d give her some hope that she had at least a snowball’s chance in hell of being set free.

  The ogre cocked his head and grinned. “That’s an easy one. Money, baby doll. It makes the world go ’round.”

  “You in some kind of financial trouble? I have money. I can help you out if you let me go. You could do hard time for this.” Hard time? Who was she, Olivia Benson?

  “Nice try, but nah. Club’s got money. We do real well.” He shrugged. “Just want more of it. And we’ll only do time if we get caught.” With a snort, he stepped into the hallway. “Don’t plan on getting caught. Get comfy, princess, you’ll be here for another day or so before your master comes to collect his new pet.”

  Any hope she might have had seconds ago burned up into ash. Greed, straight up money-hungry business was driving this bus. And that meant she had no chance of convincing him to let her go.

  For one fleeting moment, while that smarmy asshole Wayne was delivering her to this piece of shit shack in the woods, she’d thought she’d glimpsed a man who didn’t approve of what was happening to her.

  An angry-sounding growl had come from the hunk in leather who seemed to be some kind of guard dog for the bikers. Something about him struck her as different. An energy he projected drew her to him.

  Now she was trying to read biker’s auras? She really was losing it.

  She’d given the guy her most pleading save me look, but all she’d received in return was a cold, hard stare.

  He’d been a gorgeous man. Tall, lean but not skinny with a leather jacket and jeans hugging his firm thighs. A floodlight had shone in her direction, blocking her view of his true eye or hair color, but both appeared some shade of brown. Maybe on the lighter side. A few days’ worth of stubble obscured his cheeks. Cassie had had the insane desire to rub her own face against his, and find out it if was scratchy or silky soft.

  Hot was too mild a word to describe him. Incendiary more like it. Had she run across him at her parent’s country club, she’d have swooned and stammered like a school girl.

  Another bark of laughter left her. That man wouldn’t set foot inside a country club. And not just because security wouldn’t let him, but because he was way too badass.

  Too bad he was as evil as the rest of them.

  “You good with the plan?” Sarge asked as they sat astride their bikes.

  Viper stared straight ahead at the quiet shack. Legs was back on duty, had been for the past six hours. Viper and Sarge were set to relieve him for the rest of the night. Their orders were to keep the girl alive and a virgin, but were given the green light to “play a little” as Fox had said. Never before had Viper actually considered murdering his father.

  Until that moment. He’d had to walk away because he couldn’t trust himself not to wrap hands around the old man’s throat.

  Since making eye contact with the woman the previous night, Viper felt like a live wire dangling from a power pole, snapping and popping with dangerous energy. Every man in the club had suffered from his mood at some point over the last day. Fox was so fed up with him, he assigned “bitch sitting” duty and ordered Sarge along to babysit the babysitter.

  Mission accomplished. Now they both had a reason to be back at the shack.

  “Yeah. I’m good.”

  Sarge nodded. “O
kay, the body should be arriving in about two hours. I’ve got the Scoundrel’s cut all ready to go.”

  Nodding without taking his attention off the shack, Viper said, “You never told me how you managed that one.”

  “What? Swiping one of the Scoundrel’s cuts?” Sarge said with a chuckle. “Remember that bar fight Legs got into with one of those fuckers last year?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Before the fists started flying, both of ’em took their cuts off. Legs tossed his to Fox. The Scoundrel was stupid enough to leave his on the bar. I straight up walked out with it. Figured it’d come in handy someday. I was right.”

  Viper grunted. He’d actually heard the story before, but his brain was only half in attendance tonight. Most of it was dedicated to the woman they were about to rescue. The plan was simple. Frame the Scoundrels, an MC from a neighboring town.

  The Devil’s Tribe’s one and only enemy.

  Sarge had a contact who worked at a funeral home. Actually, he had a woman he banged on the regular who worked at the funeral home. A good fucking and five hundred dollars was apparently what it took to purchase the dead body of a homeless man. Not much, all things considered.

  “All right, let’s review one more time. We bullshit Legs until he leaves. Body comes in two hours. We wait one hour after that just to make sure someone ain’t coming around to feed us or some shit. I’ll make a trail in the woods for the club to follow, you place the body then grab the girl and scram. I’ll burn the place to the fucking ground.” Sarge sounded almost gleeful, as though they were planning a party instead of an escape. “It’ll look like one of he Scoundrels didn’t make it out, but the rest took off through the woods.”

  “What if the cut burns up, and they can’t tell it was the Scoundrels?” Viper asked.

  They’d been over it a hundred time since Sarge devised the plan last night, but he seemed to understand Viper needed to hear it one more time. “If you put the body where we discussed, it should be far enough to get charred but not fully cooked. The club will tell the cops the place was empty, which will hopefully keep the search to a minimum. If all goes well, they’ll just assume we’re dead.”