Snare: Road Kill MC (A Novel) (16 page)

Though Noose's sacrifice is the first time anyone's done it for me. He figured if one of us could make it, that'd be enough. They'd been so busy beating Noose they'd been distracted from beating me as badly. Noose's sacrifice paves the way for me getting Sara.

Searching for her is going against the law. But that's what being a one percenter's about: being my own man even when no one wants me to be.

I text the boys. Lariat and Wring text back that they were already in route and only slightly behind Trainer.

In twenty, they're at the back entrance to the hospital, and I'm telling them about Mover. That a meeting between the presidents is
not
in order—it's nothing but a trap.

When I get to the part of the story where the cop shows up and saves us from our torture, Lariat and Wring get identical looks on their faces. Disbelief.

“I know,” I admit. “But if he wasn't legit, there'd be no way this would've gone down like it did. No Chaos Rider would have gotten us to the hospital to tend the wounds they gave us. Noose was fucked, and I was getting there. Then this Puck cop shows up, runs through the spiel of his undercover gig...” I shrug.

Wring is thoughtful, palming his chin. “Seems a little too neat.”

Lariat nods. “Trainer's got Noose.”

I nod.

A tension seems to run out of them. “Bad fucking scene. Guns taken, cop involved, your old lady with this drug dickhead.”

“My dad.”

Lariat claps me on the shoulder, and I tense, pain radiating through my body. “ Sorry,” he says, “forgot you're all fucked up.” His face smooths out to serious. “Got feelers out, Snare. We'll get her.”

“I want to do him.”

Wring lifts his shoulders and nods. “It's your right, man. But hear me.” His intense eyes, nearly as bright a blue as mine, pierce me to the marrow. “If he's getting saucy, threatening your property, you”—he thumbs his chest—“
my
precious ass, or anyone else that matters, I'm popping him. Vengeance or no vengeance.”

I swing my gaze to Lariat. He whips his palms up. “Not just an accountant,” he says with a grin. But his eyes are hard as flint chips in a resolute face.

Riker Locklear's going to die.

I don't know by whose hand, but fate's finally asserting itself, or karma.

Whatever it is, the fucker's going down for all the people he's hurt along the way.

Sara

My mind drifts. Thoughts of Jaylin crowd my skull. As a baby. Then a toddler. Me pumping milk from my breasts as I cried between sets because I couldn't be at home with her. That I had to leave Jaylin at day care.

All the times we held hands on the twirly thing at Gasworks Park. The lazy summer days spent on a blanket, looking for shapes in the clouds as crickets made warm music around us.

Life.

Life with Jaylin.

My eyes open, and with sight, my memories fade. I look around, a pounding in my temples keeping time with my accelerated heartbeat. Cinder block walls close in around me, lifeless as a tomb.

Screaming is a hard thought, but I don't commit aloud.

Riker took me. Snare didn't come back. Jaylin is with Lola.
I'm going to die.

I'm never going to see my baby girl again.

Riker wasn't going to wait until I made up my mind about lying for him with Denny and Micah.

I try sitting up, and bindings tug against my wrists. My shoulders tense from being in one position too long, and drool's dampened my T-shirt from when I was unconscious. I can't get to my nose when it itches, and I ache to touch my face. Move. Assess things.
I can't.

I move my toes, and one foot is bare. The realization that this horrible man came into my home and stole me from my safe place and left my shoe behind, well... it makes me pissed. The backs of my eyelids burn with tears of rage instead of sadness.

I'm glad. Sadness will just get me dead faster. I don't want pity—I won't beg. Because Riker doesn't care about his granddaughter.

An awful idea grows inside my mind.

Snare doesn't know about his daughter.
Riker does.
He can claim her if I show up missing. Insist on DNA and boom—suddenly he's grandpa of the year.

Because my mom is in the hospital, eternally sleeping thanks to Riker. Not that she'd be any better than him. She's responsible for us being with him in the first place.

I squeeze my thighs together, and the soreness between my legs reminds me of Snare, my lips giving a sad lift.

I can't completely regret my teen years living with Riker. If my mom hadn't married him, I'd never have been with Snare.

I lift my chin, staring with defiance at the door that leads out of this mausoleum. I'd take my two times with Snare, and our forbidden love, over a hundred times with a man I was allowed to be with.

I swallow my self-realization like a bitter pill and scan the space. There are no windows. The hour and day are unknown. Chains hang from the ceiling, and a drain is in the center of the room.

The cement around the drain is stained a rust color. I gulp back bile, viewing the evidence of blood so thick it can never be expunged, and my bladder begins to burn with the need to pee.

A steel door clanks open, and Riker moves through with another man.

Oh my God.
Gooseflesh washes over my skin. The fine bumps feel like tiny hills of fear as I run first hot, then chilled.

It's the man I gave a blow job
. I can't think of his name, but I'm remembering he's MC. Like Snare.

Not like Snare, Sara
. No one is like Snare.

I try to avoid terror, but it chases me through the corridors of my mind. It’s a maze only the terror knows, and I've lost my way. Fear nips at my heels as I run.

“Sara, this is Mover.”

Mover chuckles. “We're already acquainted.” He licks his lips, and I shudder.

I'd give Mover ten blow jobs if I could get away from Riker. “You didn't give me a chance to”—I wet my suddenly dry lips, dying for water, a bathroom—“answer you about Micah and Denny.”

Riker shrugs, his hair slipping over his shoulder. It's coal black, like Snare's, but is starting to gray at the temples. He smiles at me. “I lied. Those two fucking brats are buried in the system somewhere. I forged the docs. Pretty smooth job, eh?”

My mouth drops open, and Mover gives a masculine chuckle. I glare at him. “Doesn't sound like she saw that one coming.”

“Nope. She was never very bright. Just fuckable.”

Oh God.

Mover's eyes narrow between the two of us.

Riker's attention returns to me. “I gave you something that I thought you'd buy. I don't give a fuck about those kids. They were just leeches to feed and take up my limited resources.”

Mover rolls his eyes to the ceiling, clearly making an effort at tolerating Riker's behavior. I don't bother to figure out their relationship. I know that Mover would be more sympathetic than Riker.

I hope. 

I open and close my fingers in their binding, going for motion to keep the feeling in them. “Then let me leave. I promise I won't say anything to anyone about this.”
Except Snare.
If I even see him again.

My eyes plead with Mover. I assume he is the lesser of two evils.

“She does possess a certain charm.” Mover's eyes crawl over my body, and I look away from his perverted scrutiny.

Riker looks everywhere but at my face. I flush under his gaze, hating his eye rape.

“Fuck charm. I just want to do her before you cycle her into the flesh market.”

Flesh market.
My stomach rotates into a sick flip. What do they mean, like selling girls? Prostitution?

“I have a stupid question,” Mover says with slow precision.

“Ask away,” Riker says but not like he cares. More like he just wants to get to me, to get on with his plan. His eyes attach themselves to my breasts.

“Is she a virgin? Because Ned's unplanned death has left me in a bind. I need a new liaison for my females.”

“Not fucking with broads. I do drugs,” he says in an empty voice. “I don't know if Snare was the one that popped her cherry. But she's a slut stripper, so I'm sure there's been an assload of dicks in that pie.” Riker smirks.

My face heats.

Mover's eyes hood.

“I'll check.” Riker steps forward, and a sound slips out from my clenched teeth. A perfect blend of fright and pain. My heartbeats stack, my eyes bulging.
No, no, no...

Mover's hand stops him.

His steely eyes turn to Riker, and a subtle tug-of-war stands between them. “I do not wish for damaged goods. If this girl is a virgin, then we must save her for the trade. She's worth so much more untried.”

Riker's jaw slides back and forth, and his dark brown eyes narrow on Mover. “Let me finger her. I'd find something in a second.”

Mover shakes his head in a tsking motion. “No, you'd ruin something in a moment. Without even trying. You are uncouth, Riker, but you possess what I need.”

Riker puts his hands on his hips. “You said I could have her,” he seethes. “Besides, we've already discussed it. She's got a kid.”

I flinch at his statement. They're discussing me as though I'm a commodity, talking about the baby girl I wish they didn't know about.

I'd been a commodity at The Crawl too. But I'd
chosen
to dance. I'd been compensated with cold hard cash for the Dicksʼ lust.

Right now, my future is being discussed in terms I can't even make sense of.

Riker crosses his arms.

I stiffen as Mover walks to me.

His eyes give me a message that's different than what he does next.

I'm confused, then scared.

“Every bitch gets checked.”

Riker makes a sound of irritation.

Then Mover positions himself between my legs, and I don't even think, I kick him, trying for his nuts.

Riker strides forward and sweeps the chair's leg, destabilizing the balance, and I fall backward onto my arms, my head cracking the concrete with a tap that reverberates down my spine.

I scream in pain, agony shrieking from bound wrist to shoulders. My skull no longer throbs. It feels like it just exploded. My head rolls to the right, and I groan with the movement, seeing only their feet fill my shattered vision.

“That was unnecessary,” Mover says smoothly, but I hardly hear him. I think they've hurt my arms. Words form in my mind then blow apart, floating away like dandelion seed.

Riker snorts. “Look, think the bitch has something to say.”

Mover's eyes run over my face with a compassion that only I can see, because Riker stands behind his shoulder.

I frown, grasping for cohesive thoughts.

Riker's grin says how much he's wanted to be right where he is now.

Mover rolls my yoga pants down past my hips. The material skates to midthigh, and I feel my panties removed to join them.

I'm bare before the men.

Riker whistles. “Now
that's
a pretty pussy.”

Mover says nothing. But when he parts my legs, I whimper, trying weakly to shut them.

Nobody touches me there but Snare.

Then a finger is inserting itself inside me, and I mewl, struggling against the intrusion, the dizziness from when my head hit the floor. My arms are so numb I can no longer feel them pressed uselessly behind the chair, my body weight pinning me to the floor like a moth to a board.

“God—let me—” Riker's hoarse voice pierces my consciousness. “
You
get to finger fuck her!”
And I don't
are his unspoken words.

He's like a spoiled child:
Let me rape my stepdaughter with my finger.

“She's a virgin,” Mover says smoothly, withdrawing his finger almost instantly.

What?

“No fucking way.” But Riker's shock has an excited undertone. “I saw her brat. It's got to be a Locklear.” But his voice isn't so sure now.

I hold my surprise with the last of whatever tiny bit of sensibility that didn't just get knocked out of me.

I'm
so
not a virgin. And I have a child. Snare might have been gentle, but he'd done a thorough job of screwing me. But even that thought isn't really accurate.

If a man could ever love me with only his cock, Snare did.

I squeeze my eyes as my panties and yoga pants are hiked back up my body.

Why did this Mover guy lie?
And oh my God, they're going to sell me to somebody, and I'll never see Jaylin again—Snare.

I'd rather die.

“Lift her up.” Mover doesn't sound happy.

Riker jerks the chair upright with me in it. He's not gentle, and the sudden movement bottoms out my stomach, and whatever I ate last night comes shooting out of my mouth. Too many chemicals. Too much jarring. Just too much horror.

Sometimes the body does what it wants without the help of its mind.

“Shit!” Riker shouts, skipping backward.

“You deserve that, and I think cleaning up her mess would make you think twice about the handling you give females.”

I open weary eyes and stare at them. Mover's acting as though he never stuck his finger in me.

Riker's looking at me as though he was cheated. His nose wrinkles from the smell of my vomit. Maybe his disgust will stall the inevitable.

He carefully scoots around the mess I made.

I can't even wipe my mouth. It's like a smelly itch I can't reach.

“I'm not doing flesh shit. It's drugs. I don't give a fuck about her.” He jerks his chin in my direction. “She's a hole I want to fill—period.” Riker chuckles then says in a low voice, “The one who got away, hmm?” He laughs at his own joke.

Mover doesn't laugh. “We'll negotiate payment. Sara is worth quite a bit more as a virgin. If you want to have her, then you'll need to do far more than we originally bargained for.”

Riker purses his thick lips. “Anything. I'll do a bunch of drug runs if I can get a piece of that.” His eyes shift to me.

I'm such a prize. Tears, drool, and puke cover me. I close my eyes again. I can't stand to look at him. What did I ever do to Riker that makes him hate me enough to rape and beat me, then hand me over for a life of the same treatment with a bunch of strangers? Is it because he just can't stand to be denied? And that Snare denied him his prize before, so now Riker has to ruin me?

Mover turns to Riker. “You don't touch the merchandise until our negotiations are final.”

Riker's chest rises and falls with his quick breaths. An erection stands out in clear outline against his dark pants.

He's so sick.

“Yeah, okay,” Riker whispers, his eyes greedy on me, “but the sooner the better.”

Mover glances at me. “Get a prospect in here to take her to the bathroom and get her some food.”

Riker smirks.

Mover sighs. “She's a human being, Riker. She has needs. Basic ones.”

He nods. “Basically, I just want to fuck her until I can't get it up anymore. That's a pretty basic need.” He chuckles.

“Go,” Mover says. The tone of his voice says clearly that he's had enough of Riker. “Get a prospect and get out.”