by Lilly Atlas
Without warning, he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, clamping a cloth over her mouth. She increased her efforts to escape and thrashed against him, trying to kick him or scream or do anything to attract attention and help. It was all a wasted effort. The angle of her neck made it difficult to breathe or fight back with any effectiveness.
A pungent odor singed her nostrils and in seconds, an intense tingling spread throughout her limbs. Darkness ringed the edges of her vision and shrunk inward. Her muffled screams were ineffective, only serving to inhale more of whatever noxious chemical he forced over her mouth.
Panic like she’d never known flared.
“Nighty, night,” Mike whispered in her ear.
Just before her vision went black, thoughts of Acer filled her mind. What would happen when he came looking for her? Would he find her alive? Would Mike hurt him?
~ ~ ~ ~
At five minutes to midnight, freshly showered and sporting a tender bruise along his jaw, Acer pounded on the door for the third time. Flakes of peeling paint drifted to the ground with the power of his fist. “Fia, open up,” he shouted.
Where the fuck was she?
He stomped toward the office and yanked the glass door open. A high-pitched jangle of bells made him wince. The shrill sound was a harsh contrast to the quiet night. Behind the desk, a girl, probably eighteen or nineteen, with spiky purple hair and a hoop through her lower lip sat, her thumbs flying over the screen of a cell phone.
“Need a room?” she asked without diverting her attention from the device.
“No.” His tone was severe, a no-nonsense bark.
She jumped and the phone fell from her fingers, landing on the desk with a clatter. Her blue eyes widened to the point of comical as she took in his No Prisoners’ cut.
Being feared definitely came with its advantages.
“I need some information. I’m looking for the woman staying in room twenty-three. You see her tonight?”
“Uhh…well…I’m not supposed to give you any information about the guests.” Her voice quivered and she sounded like she feared he was going to pounce on her any second.
He relaxed his stance and gifted her his most charming smile. “Listen, it’s really important.” He dug his wallet out of his pocket and pulled out five bills. He made a show of placing each bill on the counter, holding back his laughter when he reached one hundred dollars and she licked her lips. “Promise I won’t tell a soul you gave me any info.”
Money worked in almost any situation, and this was no exception. The girl scooped up the bills as though they might run away if she wasn’t fast enough. “I haven’t seen her. Let me check the computer.” She hunted and pecked across the keyboard, then leaned back to wait while the ancient machine churned. “Hmm, looks like she checked out this evening, about two and a half hours ago. That was right before my shift started, so I wasn’t the one to check her out. Sorry. Uhh, can I still keep the money?”
“Sure, kid,” he said.
Goddamnit, where the hell had Fia gone?
He stepped back out into the cool evening air and glanced around. Well, he could follow the road out of town, see if he could track her down. The question was, whether or not he should bother. She’d obviously chickened out, turned tail, and run. Hopefully not straight to his father.
She seemed legit, and based on the troubles she had with her own family six months ago, he didn’t think she’d be working for his father, but he never took anyone at face value anymore.
After he had returned from the charity gala in LA, he’d filled his club president in on his father’s request for assistance shuttling illegals across the border. Shiv was as against the ideas as Acer was. He’d mentioned the threats his old man dealt as well, but Shiv wasn’t concerned. His father could cause some headaches for the club, but nothing they couldn’t handle.
Acer scratched his chin and mounted his bike. He checked his phone one last time. Nothing from Fia. She hadn’t answered or returned any of his six calls.
He could go to her home. Finding the address would take all of five seconds, just as finding her phone number had. If he showed up where she lived, she’d have no choice but to deal with him. Did he want to go that route? He’d think on it for a few days then make a decision, one that didn’t involve his cock and its yearning to be back inside her.
Fia messed with his head, and in his life, that was dangerous. Acer didn’t care how happy his brothers were with their women. They just didn’t know yet how devastating the fallout was when the person you trusted most in the world stabbed you straight in the back.
Chapter Seven
Fia awoke with a harsh jolt. There was no dreamy ease into wakefulness, or comfortable snuggle into her feather pillow as she blocked out the world for a few more minutes. Her muscles contracted in a painful spasm, her eyes flew open, and heat as hot as a brick oven engulfed every inch of her skin.
Before her mind had a chance to register fear, her heart raced and her mouth dried up as though stuffed with yards of cotton. Sweat poured off her face and landed on her chest, rolling in itchy rivers to her stomach.
In an automatic movement, she lifted a hand to wipe the offending perspiration away. Her forearm brushed across a naked breast, and then the fear came in an avalanche of horror and panic.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened to her clothing?
She looked down at her unclothed body, streaked with dirt and sweat. Tears filled her eyes as memories assaulted her. Memories of Mike holding that pungent cloth over her face until she passed out. Memories of…what? The last thing she recalled was darkness encroaching on her vision. The rest was a vast chasm of blankness, until she woke up seconds ago.
She glanced at her nudity again as the tears spilled down her face. Why the hell had Mike taken off her clothes? What did he plan to do with her? What had he already done to her?
She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face against her legs. The sobs began as small choked sounds and increased until they racked her. For what seemed like endless minutes, her body heaved with the furious force of her crying.
Eventually, she ran out of steam and went from full body spasms to small hitches in her breathing. Tears slowed to a trickle.
Think, Fia. Move. Be smart.
Now that the despair had quieted, her mind allowed some of the anger in. It was right. There would be plenty of time for tears later, if she survived this.
Crying would do nothing to help her situation. She lifted her head and forced herself to her feet. Pain lanced her right ankle and she peered down. “Oh my God.” She whimpered but held back a second round of tears. Around her red, raw ankle, a metal cuff with a thick chain kept her bound to the floor.
Her legs trembled. “You’re fine,” she told herself. “Just shaky legs.” She looked around the room. It was empty except for one small folding chair about ten or so feet in front of her, next to the door frame. The door appeared to be missing, wood trim splintered as though someone wrenched it from its hinges in a violent outburst. On the wall behind her, a boarded-up window was too far out of reach. She stood on a dusty cheap wood floor in the back corner of the room, opposite the door.
How long would it be before Mike came in? Was he even here? Maybe he’d just left her to die. Her stomach cramped and her left knee buckled. She leaned her damp back against the wall and tried to lower her bottom to the ground in a controlled fashion. Her legs shook with such force, she slid much faster than intended, landing with a rough thump.
She grunted and ignored the sharp pain in her tailbone. With trembling hands, she gripped the metal chain and tugged as hard as possible. No give. She was well and truly trapped in a room with no weapons and no chance for escape.
Soul deep helplessness swamped her and she began to cry again. A heavy trudge of footsteps sounded in the hall, growing louder with each stomp. Her head snapped up and her stomach clenched as the breath stilled in her lungs. She sat still as a corpse
as though not moving could somehow make her invisible.
Within seconds, Mike filled the doorway. “You’re awake.” His gleeful voice made every hair on her body rise to attention, as though preparing for battle. “Took me forever to drag ya in here last night. You were dead weight. Thought I mighta killed you.” He chuckled. “Looks like I didn’t. Now we can play.” A sinister smile that she’d only ever seen on psychopaths in the movies formed on his face.
Fia quaked with such violence, had anyone else been present, they would have thought she was having a seizure. She tried to speak, but the muscles in her jaw trembled as hard as the rest of them, clanking her teeth up and down and rendering her mouth useless.
Mike held a smoldering cigarette in one hand and the other moved to the fly of his jeans. Fia’s attention was immediately drawn to the bulge behind the zipper. She gagged and her stomach heaved with enough force to expel her internal organs, but nothing came up. It had to be over fifteen hours since she’d eaten, and the searing heat of the room had probably pulled every ounce of water out through her skin.
He lowered the zipper as he advanced on her with slow steps.
Each click of the opening zipper was like a countdown to her doom, edging close to zero at an alarming rate. “N-no,” she managed to whisper. “Please, no.” The words were rough and her dry throat ached with the effort to speak. She scrambled as far into the corner as possible. The thought of his hands on her, of what lay behind that zipper was worse than her darkest nightmares.
Mike laughed and continued forward. When he was within striking distance, Fia’s fight-or-flight instinct kicked up in full force. Fleeing was impossible, so she went with her only option. She hit, kicked, tried to bite and head butt, anything to prevent what she feared was about to happen. Mike ignored the blows that connected and jammed the glowing end of his cigarette into her side.
Fiery pain bit into her and stunned her into immobility. She cried out and flopped against the wall, the searing burn seeming to originate from every cell in her body.
“That’s better,” he said with another evil smile.
Fia didn’t know why he abducted her. Didn’t know if he’d ever let her go. Didn’t know if she had the power to fight him. The one thing she was sure of, though, was that her nightmare had just begun.
~ ~ ~ ~
Acer growled at his phone for what had to be the fiftieth time in the past twenty-four hours. If Fia was pissed at him for his treatment of her at the gym, the message was well received. This cold shoulder act was enough to drive him nuts.
He’d give her one more day, then he was flying to California and busting down the door of her Beverly Hills apartment. No way would he tolerate his woman hiding from him like this.
His woman? Where the fuck had that insane thought come from? She was in no way, shape, or form, his anything but pain in the ass. For all he knew, this was some plan concocted by his asshole of a father to mess with his head.
In his gut, he knew that wasn’t true, but his head ruled the show and had decided twenty years ago, that the word trust didn’t belong in his vocabulary. That was the reason Fia wasn’t his, and would never be his.
It was times like this, even so many years later, when he missed Derek the most. His friend would have knocked him upside the head and told him to quit whining. But speaking to Derek wasn’t a possibility, today or any day.
His phone rang and he slammed it against his ear without checking the number. “Fia?”
“Uh, no, but I’m definitely going to have some questions about that later. You sure sound anxious to talk to this broad.” Jester laughed.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“Yikes, brother. Cranky much?”
“Answer the damn question, Jester.” Acer gripped the phone until his palm ached.
“Church, thirty minutes. You know that guy we lent money to for helping us out with info on that last gun shipment?”
Acer grunted.
“Well, he missed his very strict payback deadline. Shiv’s fit to be tied. See you in thirty. Can’t wait to chat.” Jester laughed then disconnected the call.
Fuck. This was an annoyance he did not want to deal with. He rose from his couch. Well, maybe it would distract him for a few minutes from the mind-fuck that was Fia. He grabbed his keys and strode out his door.
One week. Seven days. Then he was flying to fucking California.
Chapter Eight
Fia could no longer narrow the aches and pains down to specific parts of her body. Everything hurt. She was a giant throbbing ball of pain.
That wasn’t entirely true.
The pain between her legs was the worst, though to be honest, the physical discomfort was probably amplified by the psychological trauma that accompanied the violation. The searing pain on the right side of her ribs, where Mike had ground out no less than seven cigarette butts against her sensitive skin, rivaled a close second. After that, she was just one mass of discomfort.
A strange thing happened after days of constant terror. She became slightly detached, like her physical body and her fears were two separate beings in the room. Her physical self remained naked, chained by the ankle to a large metal ring bolted to the floor, unable to escape.
But her thoughts? They floated somewhere above her, a mix of anxiety, disbelief, and hopelessness. That was until Mike returned. When he returned, terror wrapped its long fingers around her throat and threatened to choke her.
The sound of his keys turning the deadbolt set her off each and every time, with this being no exception. She’d figured out at some point that she was in a house. Maybe more like a shack. It was certainly small. She could hear almost every move Mike made when he was there, even if he wasn’t in the unfurnished room with her.
Her breathing sped and her heart pounded as she prepared for battle. Inside the house had to be close to a hundred degrees, and sweat poured off her, but she ignored it. That discomfort was the very least of her worries.
She had no weapon, agonizingly little strength, and even less energy, but she’d fight him until her dying breath. No matter how long he kept her prisoner or what he did to her, she’d fight him every single time. There was always a chance, slim as it may be, that she could inflict some damage and get the upper hand.
She’d been trying for three days to get out of the chain that bound her to the floor and was no closer than she’d been when she arrived. That meant she’d have to kill him. She couldn’t incapacitate him and run. She’d have to kill him…somehow, and take the phone he always kept in his back pocket. Only then would she stand a chance.
She was okay with that. She was ready to take his life. He deserved it for what he did to her, and who knew how many other women. Maybe at some point in the future guilt would come, but for now, she had no reservations.
A loud banging noise from somewhere in the house caused her to jolt. She drew her knees up and wrapped her arms around them in a weak attempt to shield her body from his impending lust-filled gaze. Not that it mattered. Mike had already seen everything she had to offer. That, and worse. Still, the instinct to preserve even an ounce of dignity was strong.
Seconds later, he burst in, a crazed and frantic look in his eyes. He stopped dead in his tracks, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there.
She kept quiet, pressing hard to the wall. Putting as much distance as possible between them was always the goal. There had been a few lucky times when he came in the room, mumbled some frustrated, incoherent words, then left without so much as a glance in her direction. Other times, she wasn’t so fortunate. Which way it would go was always an unknown, so her first act was to remain quiet and pray to be ignored.
“You don’t have time to deal with her,” he mumbled. “They’re going to be here any minute.”
Fia held her breath. He gripped a hammer in one hand, and a faded backpack in the other. This was the first time he’d had any object in his hand besides a cigarette. If she invoked his wrath and he came at her with t
he hammer, there was a good chance she wouldn’t survive. Aside from muttering her name, he paid her no attention as he walked to the far corner of the empty room.
With a curse, he dropped to his knees, lifted his right arm, and sent the hammer crashing through the wood floor.
Fia jumped and slapped a hand over her mouth, holding in a hysterical shriek. Would he turn that hammer on her next? She slid a finger into her mouth and bit down, the acute pain keeping her from completely freaking out and making a sound that would draw his attention. He appeared in his own world and needed to stay there.
After a few seconds of bashing the hammer into the floor like a madman, he reached into the hole through the splintered wood and pulled out a thick wad of cash. Into the backpack it went, followed by another, and another still.
Holy shit. That was a lot of cash. Where the hell had it come from? What the hell was he planning? The room spun, but she didn’t dare breathe and refused to blink.
Mike zipped the bag and stood, making a beeline for the door.
Just when she thought she was safe, he stopped and pivoted back. His gaze landed on her, an almost loving expression on his face.
She shifted her focus to the wooden floor. Keep silent. Leave, her mind screamed. Just leave. Please, please walk out that door.
“I may not be back for days. They’re coming for me.” With that cryptic statement, he turned and ran out of the room. The slam of the front door reached her seconds later.
Fia sucked in a gulp of hot air as relief and terror coursed through her in equal measures. Her body trembled and her thoughts raced.
He was gone.
Maybe for days.
Thank you, God.
But how the hell would she get out of here? He hadn’t fed her since she arrived, and she’d only had one bottle of water. Already, she was so weak and dehydrated, position changes made her dizzy. How much longer could her body hold out?
“It will damn well hold out until you get out of this fucking chain, Fia,” she ordered herself. With nothing else to do and no immediate fear of Mike’s return, she could focus all her attention on getting free. If only he’d left the damn hammer.
