“Have you any idea where they’re taking us?”
She jerks her shoulders again. “I’ve heard them say Mexico, but from there who knows.” Now she looks at me directly. “If you’re thinking of trying to escape, you won’t have a chance. They’re too careful for that.”
“Has anyone tried?”
Her head dips in the direction of a woman at the front of the van, whose head lolls forward into her hands, and a moan comes from her bloody mouth. I get the message.
Having drawn my attention to my companions, I examine them more carefully, quickly realising what Devil said had to be true, that these aren’t women picked up off the street. Even with their red-rimmed eyes, they’re all attractive in one way or another. Some have lithe, slim bodies, some well-endowed, hair which is probably beautiful when properly styled. But fear and terror aren’t a good look, so I see no one at their best.
Indicating the clothing, I ask, “Why do they make us wear these?”
“We were kept naked most of the journey. Stopped off last night and told to put these fucking cover-nothings on. Think we’re meeting the main man today. He’ll want to inspect his merchandise.”
The defeated look in her eyes shows she’s given up and is accepting her fate. But I can’t say anything to give her hope, or even an inkling there might be a chance of rescue. She shakes her head to get the hair out of her eyes and shifts as though trying to find a more comfortable position. But cuffed as we are, that’s nearly impossible. My arms are already going numb being tied around my back.
“I’m Sam,” I suddenly decide to tell her. Humans have names; herd animals don’t.
She gives a half-hearted grin. “Monica. I’d say pleased to meet you, but…” she ends on another shrug, but she doesn’t need to complete her sentence.
The air is tainted with the smell of fear, and when my companion closes her eyes, signalling the conversation’s over, the sound of the road beneath us and a muffled sobbing punctuated by groans is all I can hear. Leaning my head back against the side panel, I try to remember that this isn’t my destiny, that Drum will be coming for me. But as the miles roll on, my anguish becomes as real as that of the others. What will I have to suffer before rescue arrives? As a tear trickles down my cheek, I fear being free again seems very far away.
I give myself a mental shake. Information, that’s what I need to provide. Looking around, I count up our numbers. “Twelve women,” I softly murmur as though speaking to myself. “They’ve kidnapped twelve of us.” Then I go silent; there’s nothing more I can say without drawing attention to myself.
The journey continues in silence, each of us lost in our own misery. Then we’re turning off the freeway, and the truck’s bumping over a different surface. Like the rest of the women with my hands cuffed behind me, I sway to one side then the other, yanking on my poor shoulders, unable to balance myself. The others seem to take it in their stride. Presumably, there’s been a number of stops on their drive down from the north.
Soon we come to a halt. The doors are opened, and one by one we’re unlocked and dragged out, then have our hands fastened behind us again. We’re all blinking in the harsh sunlight, and I don’t have to act to make my expression match the others’ looks of despair.
The threat of guns is unnecessary, handcuffed as we are there’s no chance of escape, and, looking around, only desert to run to. Monica told me these men would be quick to punish any sign of disobedience. When we’re told to get into a line, that’s what we do, obedient as a flock of sheep being nipped at the heels by a dog.
The truck has pulled up next to a couple of cars and standing alongside are two well-dressed strangers deep in discussion. Shuffling, I try to get the short nightdress to cover my ass, but however I try to pull it down, it gives me no semblance of dignity.
I stand much like the others, fidgeting, trying to ignore the leers of the men guarding us. A few minutes pass, then one of the new arrivals starts inspecting the line, beginning from the end furthest from me. Wide-eyed, I see my companions being manhandled. Teeth are inspected, breasts fondled, and hands grab at their asses. Cries and whimpers of objection go unheeded, the man moving on dispassionately, leaving each of the women in fresh tears.
As he gets closer, my legs start shaking so badly I’m worried they won’t hold me up. When he finishes his brutal examination of the woman beside me, there’s a change. He asks confirmation from Ugly-face, then calls out to the other stranger and points to me. “Hey, Kurt. Here.”
A well-dressed man, who apparently answers to Kurt, comes up beside him, and both men give me a visual examination, the look in their eyes making me flinch. “So, Louis, this is the one?” he says.
“Yeah, man. We’ve kept our hands off as instructed.” This from Jerk-off, who sneers and puts his hand on his cock as if he wants a repeat of his earlier masturbation.
“You better have,” Louis, who appears to be one of men in charge, replies, his snarling tone suggesting there would have been swift retribution if they hadn’t. Suddenly he grabs my breasts, roughly, making me gasp. He raises an eyebrow toward the other man. “Small tits. You sure about this?”
I move to escape his touch, he tightens his fingers around my tender flesh, then takes one hand away and slaps me hard across my face, making me stumble.
“Keep still, bitch.”
Kurt looks on dispassionately. “They’re on the small side, but I can get them enhanced.” He huffs a cruel laugh. “I can have them made to exactly my requirements. The rest of the package is as I expected.”
He’d make me get breast implants? Who the hell does he think he is? Then I watch what they are doing—they’re talking about money. Confirming a price. What he’s going to pay for me. Oh shit! This is the buyer. And if my buyer’s here, does that mean I’m not going to be travelling on with the other women? How will Drummer find me?
A moment of sheer panic before I remember, I’ve got the tracker implanted, and Drummer is listening to everything they’re saying. Drummer will come to save me. This isn’t for real.
But they didn’t expect me to be separated from the other women. What will Devil do now? This wasn’t the plan.
“The rest of them going south?” Kurt, who’s apparently paid an extortionate amount for me, seems in no particular hurry to get going.
“Yeah. They’re going up for auction.” Louis pulls out a packet of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it. He offers the pack, but Kurt declines. Then he nods at our captors, who seem to know what to do.
“Comfort break, ladies. Go take a fuckin’ piss as you won’t get another chance.” They push and shove the women into a line by the brush, one by one undoing the handcuffs, leaving just one remaining dangling from a wrist. Louis tilts his head toward my buyer, who nods back, and I’m pushed over to join the others. That they’ve done this before becomes clear when one by one they crouch and, in full view of the men, relieve their bladders, accompanied by lewd comments from the men behind. Any desire I had to pee disappears at the sight, but a kick swipes my legs out from under me.
I want to tell them I’m not a freaking animal but expecting any further protest would be met with more violence, so trying my best to ignore the situation I try to do what they want. Eventually I produce a small trickle. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so humiliated in my life.
A firm grip on my arm pulls me to my feet, and I’m dragged across to one of the cars.
“Well then, she’s all yours now.” Nodding at Louis, Kurt pushes me forward and a driver steps out of the car. While Louis and Kurt shake hands as if they’ve done nothing more stimulating than having bought and sold a puppy, the driver opens one of the rear doors and pushes me inside. He wrenches my arm painfully around and cuffs me to the door. With a sinking feeling of dread, I notice the rear windows are blacked out, preventing anyone seeing inside. No one’s going to know I’m held prisoner in the car. Swallowing hard, I try to damp down my rising panic. Drum’s heard everything. He knows what’s hap
pening. He won’t leave me to this fate.
The driver takes his place up front, and Kurt gets in beside me. Casting a sideways glance, I examine him for the first time. He looks like he’s in his fifties, with a paunch protruding from his suit jacket, his smattering of greasy grey hair covers a dome-shaped head. His grey eyes are too close together, his bushy eyebrows meeting in the middle. His nose is bulbous and his mouth thin and cruel. A whiff of body odour assails me, and that combined with the smell of leather makes my stomach churn. It’s no wonder this man has to buy a woman. Unless he’s got a wonderful personality, which I doubt, on looks alone no one would find him attractive.
His car smacks of wealth, but the soft seats offer no comfort. He thinks I belong to him now. He’s wrong. I belong to Drummer. And he’s coming for me.
“Where are you taking me?” I attempt to get information for Drummer and Devil, but they haven’t spoken to me in ages. What if I’m not in range? Now there’s no voice in my ear, I’m feeling abandoned and very alone. But they can still find me. I’ve got the GPS.
As the driver switches on the engine, Kurt deigns to look at me. With a leer, he replies to my question, “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that. Which city you’ll be in won’t matter one bit. You’re just going to love your new home.” He chuckles, then leaning forward he says something to the driver, who puts his foot on the gas and we’re going back down the track, back the way we came.
It’s going to be alright. Drummer will know exactly where I am.
But now I’ve been separated from the other women; they can’t track the transport.
To save me, Devil will have to abandon his plan. Will he want to do that?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Drummer…
“Give me the fuckin’ mic.” Reaching over I try and wrest it from Devil, but only succeed in making him swerve, almost off the road.
“Bloody hell. Give it up, will you? Listen to me.”
“That’s my fuckin’ woman!” The radio’s still transmitting, and I can hear everything that’s happening to her. The filthy words her captors are spouting. Fuck, they’re making her get naked, in front of them. That body, which belongs only to me. That only I have ever seen. How dare they put their filthy hands on her.
“Drum, you’ll only make it harder for Sam if she hears you losing your shit. Christ, man, I understand how you’re feeling, but she doesn’t need to know that. What she’s going through? That will be hard enough without her hearing the effect it has on you.” Devil takes his eyes off the road long enough to glare at me. “If you can’t keep it together, then I’m stopping this car and tossing you out on your arse.”
I stare at the English bastard who’s preventing me from comforting my girl. Slowly I understand he’s right, my anger, my disgust, would only be piling more shit on top of what Sam’s already dealing with. It’s bad enough for me to hear it. Fuck knows how she’s coping with it actually happening to her. The reality of her situation is so much worse than I had imagined. Surely, there had to be some better way of handling this without subjecting her to such degradation? But without blowing everything, and Devil’s chance to bring down the whole ring, I can’t see how I could stop it now. “Asshole,” I throw at him, half under my breath.
When he sees I’ve calmed down he picks up the mic he’d wrestled from me and speaks to Sam calmly, asking her to give him information. There are four men with them; we already heard that, and they’re apparently meeting one of the leaders of the gang today. That’s what Devil wants, to catch the men at the top of the food chain and cut off the head of the snake. My leg bounces uncontrollably. All I want is Sam safe and back where she belongs, with me. The knowledge of the hell she’s going through causes such a churning in my gut. She’s mine. And those men have their hands on her. Touching her in places only I have known. No one’s going to touch her again. Ever.
Well, fuck me. The intensity of my feelings toward her gives me pause. The radio’s gone silent now; she’s given us all the information she can, which leaves me alone with my thoughts as we hurtle down the I-10, keeping a good distance between us and the truck.
Me? Thinking about claiming a woman? That’s where my mind is taking me, isn’t it? Could I do that? I wipe my hand over my brow.
I’d been given my name when I was still a prospect. Joining the MC twenty years ago, as a wild, untamed youth, it was the trappings of the lifestyle that attracted me. I partook of them all with great enthusiasm. I drank, did drugs—nothing heavy, but illegal just the same. Then there was the pussy. Lots and lots of free pussy. I went through the club whores and hangarounds as though my life depended on it, two, three, or even more fucks a night. If I visited another chapter, I’d go through their sluts too. By the time I’d patched in, I’d picked up my handle and a reputation for banging everything in sight.
Stroking my hand down and over my bearded chin, I admit I haven’t changed all that much over the years. My appetite for sex remains insatiable. My disdain for the men who tied themselves to just one woman immeasurable. Why restrict yourself to one pussy when you can have variety each and every night? Big tits, small tits, tall, short, slim, chubby. If they weren’t much to look at, I’d fuck them from behind.
I’d never taken time to talk to a woman before; bitches were there to fuck and nothing else. Conversation I’d get with my brothers. But that was before I met Sam. Until I’d met her and found we had things in common, things I wanted to talk about, to listen to her views and opinions like discussing her Vincent and the restoration of my vintage bikes. In fact, I suspect just chatting about anything and everything would be a revelation and a joy with her. For once, I want to hear what a woman has to say.
And the sex? Simply mind-blowing, right out of this world. But could I be content with just her decidedly delectable pussy, or would I find myself straying, wanting a change? Sticking to just one woman is an unfamiliar thought to me.
The vision of Viper enters my head. If I tried to commit, would I end up like him? Find myself having the same kind of halfway arrangement that keeps him faithful to his wife while cheating with the whores, even if it is only for blow jobs? His marriage seems to work in that strange way, but somehow, I think Sam would hand me my balls if I suggested a similar compromise.
On the other hand, now that I’ve sampled her mouth, the thought now of any other woman sucking my cock holds little attraction. There’s something more to it with her—not her technique; she still has a lot to learn, but it’s that look in her eyes, as though she’s giving me part of herself when she sucks me off. It’s not only to give me pleasure and release, but she finds enjoyment for herself too.
She’s untutored and naïve, but the things I could teach her...
I’d told her she’s mine.
I don’t think I lied.
With a slight jump as he interrupts my thoughts, I glance over to seeing Devil tapping the dash and pointing to the GPS. “The truck’s pulling off the interstate.”
He’s got my attention, and I sit straight, craning my neck to see what’s he’s talking about. “I thought they’d get closer to the border.”
“So did I.” My companion thinks for a moment. “I don’t like this. From the map, it’s not a long road and peters out about a mile up. They can’t go far in that direction, so must be making a stop and will have to come back this way. Let’s pull up and get the boys prepared.”
The boys, my brothers, are travelling in a pack a good distance behind us. I’ve a bad feeling in my gut telling me I’d prefer to plow straight ahead and get Sam back now. But with my president’s hat on, I know that Devil’s correct. If we don’t know what we’re heading into, it could all go horribly wrong. And Sam’s life, or such as she knows it, is at stake.
Devil slows, then when the bikes catch up, flashes his indicator, and in a pre-arranged signal uses the brakes twice before turning into a rest area and coming to a stop. My brothers pull up behind.
“What’s up?” Peg approaches first,
along with Wraith. Dart’s close behind, taking the opportunity to pull a pack of smokes from his pocket. As Blade nudges him, he rolls his eyes, then offers him one. Soon his pack is being passed around. I wish I could take one; it might help settle my nerves, but I resist and concentrate on the task at hand.
“They’ve pulled off. Gone down an unmade road.”
“Meeting someone?”
“Could be.” It seems the most likely reason.
Devil steps forward. “I thought they’d be stopping closer to the border, but this could be the meet. Drum and I will go in slow. Sam’s in the back of the truck, and until they stop, we won’t know what’s happening.” He holds his hand to the earpiece he’s just inserted, showing he’s still listening to what’s going on. “They’re still on the move.”
“So no fuckin’ assing about then. Listen up.” I get them to shut up, then nod at Devil. It’s his show after all. Until I get a whiff that his way’s not working, then I’m taking charge, there’s no doubt about that.
“We’ll follow them. I’ll take the SUV as close as I can, but they could hear the bikes so you lot wait here, out of sight. Drummer will keep in touch and tell you what we’ve decided to do once we know what we’re dealing with.”
Heart’s looking thoughtful. “What if they turn around and come back this way? Could be they just stopped for a drop-off or pickup?”
It’s a good point, and thinking fast on my feet I respond, “We’ll get Sam to let us know if the truck turns back. We’ll be able to hear everything that’s going on.”
Devil nods at me, I get back in the SUV and we’re back on the road again. Once we’re moving, we listen intently to the radio transmitting the sounds from inside the truck.
I hate this. Hate feeling so helpless. Hate the fact that my woman is out there without my protection, driving into a hell that any sane person would find hard to imagine. I’ve seen and done some shit in my time, but abusing women? Raping them? Forcing them into a life of sexual servitude? I can’t understand how anyone could get involved in that. Fuck the money. Women aren’t objects to be bought and sold. And definitely not my woman.
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