Princess (21 page)

“Blaze, come shut this mouthy whore up,” Jekyll hollers at a stocky guy that has flames tattooed all over his arms.

Before he reaches me, I shout, “My father’s the President of the Oath Keepers MC you fool! Let me go!” That’s all that I can get out before Blaze is standing behind me with his huge hand, covering my mouth and muffling my shrieks of outrage.

“You think I don’t know who the fuck you are,
Princess
?” He says it snidely, running the tip of the blade ever so lightly against the flesh of my exposed chest. I can’t answer, just stand here helplessly and listen while my cheeks burn with anger and my gaze bristles with my newfound hatred for him.

“You’re wrong. I know everything about you, where you live, your job, how long you’ve been sucking my son’s cock, oh, and my favorite—the pictures from him fucking you right in this room on that pool table.” He gestures to the old wooden billiards table with faded green felt.

He has no right to cheapen what happened on that table between Viking and me. He didn’t just fuck me that night; Viking made me his. It wasn’t some shitty show put on for the patrons like Jekyll’s making it sound, what happened was carnal and raw. It was us.

Being a biker himself, Jekyll should know exactly what that entails. By the biker code, it means that if my Ol’ Man shows up and witnesses what they’re doing to me right now, he has every right to slaughter them without any repercussions coming to bite him in the ass. At this point, Viking could request the entire club to help him snuff out each one of the Widow Makers members in this room. Prez may be a shitty father, but he’s always been one hell of a biker, and he’d be ballistic right now beside my man over this.

A shotgun loads in the background somewhere and then the bartender starts shouting, “Let her go and get the hell out, dickhead!”

Jekyll’s head flies up with murder coating his irises toward her. He remains eerily silent, even as a shot rings out, followed by her pained scream.

Tearing up, I attempt to suppress the wetness from falling, but it’s no use. I’m too irate at this point to not start crying. I’d use my anger by punching and screaming, fighting them, but they’ve stripped it away from me along with my modesty.

That woman was only trying to help me, and they shot her for it. These sick fucks are absolutely crazy. The only piece of comfort I find, out of everything, is that I can hear her crying. I can’t stand it that she was injured because of me, but at least with her upset, I know she’s not dead.

I’d give anything to be free right now and holding that knife in Jekyll’s hand.

“Your father means nothing to me, same as you. I’ll still fuck you and kill you when I’m finished, because let’s face it, my son can’t have an Oath Keepers dirty slut as his Ol’ Lady.”

My mind soaks up every word he speaks like a sponge, but my heart pleads with me not to listen. I don’t want to believe anything Jekyll says, but he knows too much. I would be stupid to think he was lying and that there isn’t a bit of truth to everything.

But how could Viking betray me like this? I was falling in love with him and now…Shit, fuck. Who am I kidding? I am so fucking in love with him, but there’s no way I can be with him if he’s going to be a part of this hateful club. The Oath Keepers will probably kill him for this anyhow.

Jekyll uses his free hand to twist my nipples painfully and sadly all I can do is whimper. I want to cry out, cursing him to hell, but I can’t. At the strangled noise leaving me, he smirks, running his digits down my chest and stomach, pausing at the button on my shorts.

He leans in beside my ear, close enough that I can feel his short hot pants and pushes his fingers inside my bottoms, far enough to go under the elastic of my panties. “Let me fill you in, as I’m sure he didn’t share the news with you,” Jekyll mumbles quietly, “He’s due to be patched as the President of the Widow Makers MC soon, and there’s no way I’m letting you fuck it up. I’m ready to pass the gavel down and watch my oldest take my place.”

No. Please be lying. I don’t want him taken from my life. He’s mine; he belongs to me. We haven’t had enough time yet.

His calloused fingers rub back and forth over the smooth skin above my pubic hair, continuing, “He can have the gavel, and I’ll have your snatch as my parting gift. You’re one lucky little girl; in our club we share. Think of the fun you’ll have being passed around until we dispose of your body.”

Sickness whirls through me, my gaze blurring as my head becomes fuzzy and makes me want to wretch at the bitter flavor that’s abruptly overtaken my taste buds. I’m confident and strongheaded, not letting people get me down in everyday life, but I’ve also been diagnosed with panic attacks. It was a wake-up call and also my doctor’s way of telling me that I was trying to be too perfect for my father when I was younger. I wanted him to stay, so I tried everything I could think of, then he’d leave, and my mom would be a mess. I couldn’t help but panic, and over the years, I’ve learned how to keep the attacks at bay by staying mad inside.

My anger’s faded with Jekyll’s torments, morphing into a sense of loss, fear, and sadness. His latest taunt has me conjuring up images filled with the room of filthy men sexually assaulting me and then killing me. Even with the air conditioner blasting cold air throughout the bar, beads of sweat trail down my back, catching on Blaze’s shirt.

At the feeling of Blaze thickening and resting his cock against my back, shakes start to set in, racking my body with nervousness and fear. I can’t stop the thoughts running through my mind that Blaze could easily rip my shorts down and force his hardness inside.
Viking won’t want me.
More tears fall, and I gag into his palm, ready to empty the contents of my stomach.

Blaze’s hand flies from my mouth like it’s on fire, then sharp pricks of pain explode from my scalp as he grasps onto the back of my hair. Yanking the platinum strands harshly, he wrenches my head back in outrage. “You better not throw up on me, you dumb bitch.” Growling, he shoves my head forward with such force, my neck pops, protesting the movement as he releases my hair.

Jekyll chuckles, amused at the display and steps back. “You can still have your turn whether she pukes or not.” He’s loving the fact that he’s tormenting me enough to make me physically ill and that it’s grossing Blaze out.

Blaze scoffs, “I’m not touching that twat if she’s gonna fucking wretch. Maybe we should dope her up first. Besides, she looks like she’s gonna pass the fuck out anyhow.” He nods at me, and all the guys start to really stare at me.

“Well, I’ll be damned, looks like Viking chose a weak-ass bitch,” Jekyll chortles and the men all laugh in agreement. “Just throw the whore down, she can sit up against the bar. I don’t want this one drugged up at first; I want to see if she’ll try fighting me.” They all chuckle again, and it takes everything in me not to toss my stomach contents.

The two bikers holding onto my arms drag me backward a few paces then propel me to the stained concrete floor.

My ass smarts as I land harshly on the solid ground, a smell yelp of “Shit!” escaping. Thankfully, no one pays me any mind because my cell phone digs into my butt cheek, reminding me of its presence.

A speck of hope rises, feeling the small square still in my possession.

Greasy guy crouches down, stopping about four inches in front of my face. Even with him this close to my nakedness, I can’t help but pray silently that my screen isn’t cracked, and I can get ahold of someone.

Smirking, he glances at my chest. “I’m fuckin’ those titties when it’s my turn.” Flicking my nipple, he stands, staring at my breasts while adjusting what looks to be a tiny dick pressing against his dark wash jeans and turns around to face Jekyll.

Bastard.

He can think whatever he likes. As soon as I know that they’re all distracted enough, and I get a chance, I’m calling for help. It’s times like this that I’m my father’s daughter, because when the anger comes, so does my clarity and I’m hoping that I get the opportunity to shoot this nasty monkey in his dick.

We arrive back at
the hotel after a long-ass ride and get settled in. We didn’t speak two words climbing off our bikes, and I’m pretty sure the maid we brought along won’t be able to walk for a week after a trip like that. I prefer the northern runs the most during this time of year, not this bullshit sweating until your nuts chafe, and you get a rash up your ass crack. It took me two showers to scrub the road grime off, and my balls are fucking tender enough that I’m not gonna be able to fuck my woman like I’d planned. It’ll be slow and steady with her on top.

I’ll give her a call shortly and head across the street for a beer to wait on her. I’m sure Exterminator hit up Scot and let him know we were headed back. I wonder if the old man knows what’s up at the bar. There were about ten bikes parked out front when we rolled in. It’s not unusual for the regulars to be drinking already; however, I didn’t see any of theirs parked out front.

Nightmare had a hell of a time riding back. I’m thinking the heat and blood loss was making him weak after his adrenaline finally started to dissipate. At one point he was swerving so much, I thought he was going to pass the fuck out. I’ve never been worried about him like that. He’s a tough dude, but I almost suggested he stop off at a hospital. I’m glad we were able to make it back first, that way no authorities will be flagged by him getting medical attention.

Heading outside, I check for him, but find his bike still gone. He decided to stop over at the Charter to see if they had a private doctor that’d look him over. Hopefully, Night gets that shit squared away; it would fucking blow if something serious happened to his leg because he was too stubborn to get it taken care of.

Digging a cigarette out, I get it lit and the first drag filling my lungs as Spider leaves his room. He starts my way, glancing up, surprised when he notices me already out here.

“Can I bum one?”

My eyebrow rises as I stare down at him. “It tastes like shit. Why you want to smoke?”

“Because I guess with how everything went down south, the Nomads are going to pummel my ass. Might as well pick up a bad habit on the way.”

Chuckling, I shake my head, “Nope.”

“No?”

“You a parrot now?”

“My bad, I’ll ask the desk clerk,” he says sincerely and begins to walk off.

“Spidey, get your ass back here.”

Halting, he turns back looking like someone kicked his fucking cat.

“Look, brother; shit always goes down on runs. You’re just too new to know that. Brush it the fuck off and if anyone gives you shit, just tell ‘em to fuck off. Don’t show yourself to everyone or they’ll end up running your life. And don’t start smoking, for the love of Christ; we’ve all been trying to stop since we started. Chew a piece of gum.”

He nods, silently thinking it over.

“You still have your Smith and Wesson?” On our first run together we were transporting weapons, and Spider pretty much jizzed his pants when he saw a small, flat black gun we had in one of the containers. That was one business deal that went through flawlessly.

“Yeah, I’ve been getting familiar with it. The different design is sick, but I’ve also been looking into other models.”

Exterminator rushes out of his room, beelining for mine. What the hell is going on with people today and coming to me?

“Ex?”

“We gotta talk—now!” He slams against my door, shoving it open swiftly. “You too, Spider,” he orders and we shuffle in quickly. “You speak to your Ol’ Lady?”

Meeting his stressed-out gaze, I shrug. “Not yet, my phone was off for the run, why?”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mutters, his fingertips squeezing his forehead.

Grabbing my phone off the table, I power it on immediately.

“It’s not good, Vike. You’re gonna lose it, brother. You need to stay calm so we can figure out what the hell to do,” he finishes as six missed calls from Princess pop up.

One voice message.

Clicking the message icon, I hear whispering at first, and then sobbing. My eyes fly to Ex’s, just as she starts sobbing and pleading, “Please no, don’t take it, nooo.” Then the screaming sets in, “Viking help me! Please, they’re gonna rap--” And then it cuts off.

I’m going to filet whoever did this.

Exterminator positions himself in front of the door with his palms out. “Calm down, brother. I just spoke to Scot. He heard from the Prez over here. Nancy, the bartender, called him asking for help too.”

“Get the fuck outta my way!” Roaring, I charge toward him.

“Vike! Wait, man, we’ll get her!”

Halting directly in front of him, I send him a dark glare. “Move.” His eyes shine with sympathy which has me almost ballistic. “You wanna fuckin’ die? Get the fuck out of my way, or so help me, I’ll take your motherfuckin’ life, Oath Keeper.”

“It’s the Widows.”

The little bit of spit in my mouth damn near chokes me at that name. That’s no regular MC; that’s my
father’s
club.

“We’ll figure this out, what would they want with your woman?”

“He doesn’t want Princess. It was my birthday yesterday; he’s come for me.”