by Addison Jane
They needed to do a rape kit.
I scrubbed my hand over my face.
Jesus Christ.
No matter the fight we’d had, I needed to make sure she was okay.
“Is Dad calling church?” I asked, pulling my cell from my ear for a second to check the time. It was only 11:00 a.m. If I left now, I could be home by 5.00 p.m.
“He said he’d wait till you got in, but yeah,” he replied. I could hear the skepticism in his voice. He and Lauren often didn’t see eye to eye. It could have been because Drake grew up a lot faster than the two of us, his age and wisdom stretched well beyond the years he’d been alive and unlike Lauren and me, his focus wasn’t entirely on the club.
Drake was determined to create something fucking amazing. He was determined to prove to people that it didn’t matter where you came from or what people’s perception was, you could still conquer the world.
“I’m gonna leave now,” I told him, rolling my shoulders and knowing for sure I was going to feel the fucking aches in my body tonight after two days riding.
“Ride safe.”
“Always.”
DAKOTA
“Ripley?” I called as I stepped inside the apartment, tossing my bag onto the hall table and making my way down the hall. “Rip?” I poked my head inside the bedroom, but the bed was still disheveled and destroyed like we’d left it this morning. The image made me smile, a tingle settling over my skin as I thought about the way Rip had spent all night exploring and tasting it like I was a lollipop and I was his favorite flavor.
Goosebumps ran up my arms, and I shuddered at the same time letting out a little laugh. He was gentle, but he was also himself. I was starting to love the mixture of the two.
Every day I was learning something new about him, discovering things that told me more about the person he was, and how he’d become the man he was today. I was fascinated with this guy, and I was falling hard. I just still wasn’t sure if he was going to be there to catch me.
But honestly, with all the ways he made me smile and laugh and the ways he tormented me, I would happily brave the fall and risk being crushed at the bottom because I was starting to realize that it was during the fall where I felt so free.
I tossed my cell phone onto the bed and headed back out and across the hall. I stepped into the bathroom standing in front of the vanity and the mirror and pulling my hair out of the tight braid that Meyah had tied it in during our study break. It was something we did often. Meyah liked to do stuff with her hands while she studied, she said it helped her to process the information. So, she braids my hair while I read through the notes or while we discuss the lectures. It’s a win for both of us because I fucking love having my hair played with, and she found a way to concentrate.
My fingers pulled through the strands separating each one and pulling them apart, letting the now wavy locks fall down around my face. I tried to ignore the dark bags under my eyes. They were getting so dark and prominent now that if I traveled anywhere anytime soon, I’d probably have to pay an extra luggage allowance.
I looked up to begin pulling at the braid right at the top of my head and my eyes caught a small movement. In my tiny apartment, the shower was over the bath, and I could see it in the mirror behind me.
I narrowed my eyes.
Maybe it was just…
The curtain twitched, and I held my breath, my entire body freezing on the spot as the logical part of my brain tried to convince the conspiracy theorist in me that there was something…
My eyes drifted down to the small part of the bathtub I could see, and I almost screamed.
There was a shadow.
The shadow of a person.
Run.
No, don’t run.
Act normal.
Just get out.
The voices in my head were screaming at each other, one telling me to get the fuck out of there and run toward the front door, while the other was telling me to walk out like I hadn’t seen anyone.
I could feel my breathing begin to become heavier and heavier.
I felt paralyzed.
Grab your phone.
If I could get to my room and lock the door, I could call someone. Maybe Ripley was close by at the clubhouse. He could make it here in a few minutes.
The curtain twitched again, and I took a deep breath as I tried to take back control of my limbs. Movement caught my eye, and I looked up just in time to see the curtain move aside and a face covered in a black balaclava appeared.
My eyes met his in the mirror.
Run.
I slipped on the tile floor as I rushed for the door, the man in black leaping out of the bath right as I made it into the hall. I turned, grabbing the door but before I could move it, a gloved hand grabbed the door and pushed back.
I spun, pressing my back against it and digging my feet into the carpet, giving one mighty shove which was just enough to force the offender’s fingers in between the door and the frame.
He screamed, the sound a deep and gravelly roar. “Fucking whore,” he cursed with a thump like he was falling back against the wall. I used the moment to slam the door completely closed and flick the flimsy lock that I had very little faith in. “You stupid bitch!”
My legs gave way, and I scrambled toward the bed where I could see my phone. My first instinct was to call Rip, he’s gotta be close by. He said he’d be here when I got back.
My fingers shook as I tried to swipe and push buttons, hitting the wrong one several times before I managed to find his name.
Bang.
My entire body jumped, and I started to look around, wondering what the hell I could use as a weapon.
Bang.
The phone rang. And it rang. And it rang.
He wasn’t picking up.
Oh God, he wasn’t picking up.
When the voicemail message finally kicked in, I quickly hung up. I could ring Meyah, or Ham or someone else, but I had no guarantee that any of them would answer. The only way I knew for sure I was going to get help was to call 911.
Bang.
He was throwing himself at the fucking door now, and with every thud, I could see it move a little more, threatening to give way.
“Hello 911, what is your emergency?”
My hands shook as I picked up the cell and rushed to the other side of the room, trying to put some kind of space between us. “Police,” I hissed. “There is someone in my house. I’m locked in the bedroom but they’re trying to get in.”
I rattled off my address even though I knew they would already have it from the GPS of my cell phone.
Crash!
The wood around the lock on the door completely shattered into little pieces, leaving the door frame cracked and sending the door flying back against the wall with a resounding thump that shook the entire house.
“Help,” I screamed as not one but two masked offenders rushed into the bedroom.
I didn’t know what to do, so I tossed the phone, the object hitting one of the men in the nose and almost forcing him to his knees instantly. The other man came at me, his hands reaching out. I tried to push them away looking around for something else, fucking anything.
He grabbed one of my arms and started to pull, but I dug my feet in and reached for the bedside lamp, managing to tear it from the wall before slamming the hard clay end into his face.
“I’m going to fucking kill you, bitch,” he screamed as he cradled his face.
I swung it again but this time I was too slow, and he managed to grab it with his hand, so instead, I drew back my fist and drove it straight into his nose.
“Fuck!” he screamed, letting go just enough for me to wrench my arm free. I stumbled back, looking around, searching for an escape as they both cradled their face wounds.
I just ran.
I sidestepped the first guy, my legs like jelly forcing me to stumble into the closet doors before I found my balance again, but it was too late. The second guy grabbed my arm and pulled me b
ack. I turned and tried to swing, but he ducked the punch before bringing his fist back and driving it into my stomach. All the air whooshed out of my lungs, and I couldn’t breathe. For a few seconds I was scared—petrified—that this was how I was going to die.
Being unable to breathe scares the shit out of me. It’s one of my biggest fears to die in a fire or underwater. Some kind of situation where you’re extremely aware of the fact that there is no more air going to your lungs to keep you alive.
Tears pricked at my eyes as I finally managed to take a breath, but it was short-lived as lamp face then drew back his foot and kicked me with force right in the ribs. “Stupid cunt.”
I screamed in pain and fell to my side on the carpet, clutching my stomach and dry retching like I was going to be sick.
“You think you’re a hard bitch? You wanna hit me like you’re a man, and then expect me not to fucking hit you back?” lamp face taunted as he stood over me. He leaned down and slapped my cheek. It was hard enough to send shockwaves through my brain all while he grinned.
Asshole number two stumbled over holding his hand and glaring down at me. “You broke my fucking fingers, whore,” he spluttered, holding up a hand that looked fuzzy through my tears, but even I could still tell didn’t look right. He’d removed his glove and at least three of his fingers were bent on an angle that wasn’t normal in any kind of respect.
“Get out of my house,” I tried to order, the words coming out a little shaky but still loud which was at least something. “I’ve called the police.”
“Ooo, the police,” broken hand taunted, turning to lamp face, just as the both of them began to laugh. They were like the two idiots who tried to take on the kid in the movie Home Alone. I couldn’t see their faces, but they seemed simple-minded and just out for violence.
I heard sirens in the distance, and I managed to take in a deep, painful breath as I realized that I might just make it the hell out of here today without dying. The front door was unlocked, and I heard the squeal of tires pull up at the curb followed by a door slamming shut.
“Help,” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Please, I’m in here!” I was instantly rewarded with another hard slap across my cheek. It stung, and more tears began to burn, threatening to fall. I was stubborn, though. I was fighting them. I refused to be weak, and I refused to let them think they had won.
The front door creaked open.
“Police,” a deep familiar voice called.
My gut sank.
No.
This wasn’t right.
“Ooo… they’re here. Let’s go say, hi!” Broke hand grabbed a fist full of my hair and began to drag me across the carpet. It burned my thigh as he pulled me, fighting, across the floor while I tried my best to keep from him ripping a fist full of my hair from my scalp.
My fingers dug into his wrist, and he growled deep in his throat before using the grip he had on me to slam my cheekbone into the door frame, sending my head spinning and my eyes rolling as I fought to stay conscious.
“Oops,” he gloated and both men chortled away like it was the funniest joke they’d heard in a long time before continuing to pull me down into the foyer.
Now, when the criminals don’t run from the police officers, you know that’s bad. Especially, when the police officer has a reputation of his own for using his fists to get his point across. I already knew this was about to go south as the fucker dumped me against the wall of the entrance to my apartment and took a step back, cradling his broken hand. My cheek was already beginning to swell, the pain radiating from it making my head thump like someone was playing bass music inside it at full blast. At least it took away from the pain in my ribs, and the way I was struggling to breathe.
“Oh dear, Dakota,” Caleb exclaimed in mock surprise as he shut my front door behind him. “What happened?”
I licked my lips, tasting a small amount of blood in the corner, from which injury I had no fucking idea. I was a mess, and yet I still fought to get to my feet. The entire room was blurred, it was fuzzy, but I could make out the two men in black, Caleb’s smug looking face, and the way they all watched in wonder as I slowly got up off the floor.
Very slowly.
My entire body felt like it was on fire, and with the amount of pain surging through me, I really had to fight the urge to curl up in a ball and fucking cry.
But I wouldn’t do that.
Not in front of him.
No way in fucking hell.
He might have broken me, but I wasn’t going to let him see it. I wouldn’t give him the pleasure.
When I finally got to my feet, my entire body wobbling as I held onto the wall for support, I looked him directly in the eye. “Your services are no longer needed. So, you can get the hell out now.”
He smirked, the absolute sickening delight on his face was a telltale sign I wasn’t just dealing with a crazed cop with an ego and the need to be a god amongst men, I was dealing with a fucking psychopath. “But… you called me to come and help,” he taunted as he moved around the small room.
“I called the police,” I sneered, the amount of effort it took just to let him know I was angry hurt more than I could have possibly imagined. It honestly felt like my face was broken. “You are not a fucking police officer, you’re a fraud and a phony, and one day they’ll know it, too.”
He laughed softly. “You know, I have to say you’ve been most entertaining so far. I wish they all fought back this much, it would make things far more fun.”
I pressed my back hard against the wall as I began to realize that this was not a one-off, it was not just something he’d decided to do on a whim in an attempt to get the boys out of the city. No, this was a thing he constantly did. He went to a city promising help, and promising to clean them up and get rid of the crime and the gangs. But instead of doing it the legal way, he set out to destroy anyone close to them, and use them against the people they loved.
“Get the hell out of my house,” I ordered, trying my best not to let the tears slip as I realized just what this meant. The men dressed in black stood back and laughed while Caleb’s eyes lit up like he was completely fascinated by me.
“You’re so beautiful, Dakota,” he praised, moving closer and reaching out to touch my cheek. “It’s such a pity—”
I slapped his hand away.
He shook his head, tsking his tongue at me like I was a naughty child. “Maybe now you’ll begin to listen to me when I tell you I’m very serious,” he warned, the lightness in his eyes quickly giving way to the dark, being completely swallowed and smothered. I got it now. This was a warning, a show of what kind of power he had. How I couldn’t escape him even by calling the police. This was a punishment for not bending to his will like he wanted. “Because next time you try to be a little fucking bitch, I’ll be sending these guys around to Austin’s house to have a little visit with Amelia and Evie.”
I wanted to crumble right there.
I wanted to give in to the pain and let it consume me, hoping that it would take over my brain and the images that I had of what this man could do to my family.
That would have been easy.
Just give in.
Give up.
But I had too much pride in my veins, and I was far too fucking stubborn to just lay down and take it. So, he could hang me up and burn me at the stake if that’s what it came to, but if he lit me on fire, I was going to burn this whole damn fucking city down and take him with me.
“We’re having dinner on Thursday night,” he added as broke hand and lamp face filed out the door. He came in close, pulling a card out of his pocket with the restaurant name, the time and date on it.
He slipped it inside my top where it curved over my breast before stepping back with a wink.
“Wear something nice.”
“Rot in fucking hell.”
He grinned. “Maybe I’ll see you there when you’re done destroying your friends.”
Or maybe I was already there.
<
br /> RIPLEY
I felt like I was on autopilot as I drove into the Vegas city limits and let my bike find its own way to the hospital. The nurse at the counter gave me vague directions to a part of the hospital that was somewhat secluded. It didn’t take me long to find Drake standing outside the door, though. The hospital wasn’t my favorite place in the world even though I’d been there more times than I could possibly count on two hands.
For some people, death was dark, it was this dreary place with storm clouds and men in long black cloaks with daggers.
For me, this was death.
It was white.
It was clean.
And smelled like disinfectant.
The men wore long white cloaks and held clipboards and stethoscopes.
“You didn’t have to come you know,” Drake said, the instant I fell against the wall beside him. He looked at me worriedly, but my brow quickly creased in confusion.
Lauren and I may not have seen eye to eye recently, but I still gave a shit about her. There was something going on with her, I hadn’t figured it out yet, but I was hoping that maybe this would be the wakeup call she needed to fucking let me in, so I could help her like she’d done for me so many years ago. And I was hoping that meant her putting her emotions aside.
That was a strong hope.
“Where is she?” I asked, my eyes roaming the empty hall.
“She’s in the end room. She started to freak out when she saw my shadow moving past the door every so often.” I could see him fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but he managed to hold it. I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed the change in her tune.
That didn’t mean any of us thought she needed to have the shit beaten out of her, though. We cared about our members. We were all a little fucking crazy at times, and I knew there were moments when the boys probably wanted to throw me under a moving train, but family wouldn’t be a fucking family if they didn’t all drive each other to the brink of insanity. Honestly, sometimes I think we just liked to hang out there because of the view.
