Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

  And then she noticed the mail Fetch had given her yesterday.

  She hadn’t opened the package from her adoptive mom yet. She’d thrown it on the dresser when she got home from dinner last night. Maybe she’d send a letter back, this time, stating she appreciated the gesture, but she’d gotten her life together, and it wasn’t necessary.

  It sounded like a way to move on without any messy scenes and tearful reunions. And once she did, an awkward gathering with them wouldn’t be hanging over her head anymore. Rose could fully concentrate on her recovery then.

  She ripped open the envelope to find a DVD in a clear, unmarked case. With a sigh, she inserted the disk into her laptop, expecting to see some old home movies of her family during happier times.

  Instead, she saw herself being raped.

  Clamping her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming, Rose watched as a naked and erect Kent stood over her motionless body in the pixelated video. Her wrists were restrained to the headboard in a stress pose, and her calves had been tied to her thighs to keep them open. Her head lolled to the side, and it was obvious she was unconscious.

  Kent drove into her repeatedly, his buttocks clenching with every thrust.

  Her stomach rolled, but Rose couldn’t look away—couldn’t make herself turn it off. It went on and on. Kent ran his hands over her possessively as he penetrated her again and again.

  She could hear his muffled moans of pleasure when he ejaculated.

  Mercifully, the screen finally went to a fuzzy gray, and then Kent appeared, seated at his desk.

  “Hello there, Goldilocks.” He smiled. “I thought I’d send you a reminder of our time together. Have you missed me, baby girl?”

  She backed away as if he might reach through the laptop and grab her.

  “Because I’ve missed you. You were always so obedient, so submissive. Such a good girl. I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I don’t want to waste time training someone else when I’ve already created the perfect slave. So I’ve decided to come for you.”

  Her breath came in rough pants, and the room was starting to spin.

  He continued on, the ramblings of a lunatic. “I know you didn’t leave me by choice. Your sister took you. But I swear to you, Goldilocks. We’ll be reunited very, very soon.”

  Then he switched off the camera.

  Rose ran to the bathroom, hit her knees, threw open the toilet lid, and retched. But her stomach was empty, so she just dry heaved. After puking bitter bile, she closed the lid and placed her forehead against the cool porcelain. In her mind’s eye, she could see Kent’s flushed face, feel his big body crushing hers as he slid his penis inside. Hot tears poured down her cheeks, and she swallowed the lump in her throat, trying to keep from screaming.

  God, she felt dirty—used, all over again.

  Rose stood and stripped off her clothes. She needed to wash him off her skin. Right after she’d been rescued, she showered several times a day, trying to feel clean again.

  It never worked, but she did it anyway. What else could she do?

  She pushed aside the shower curtain and turned the dial as far to the right as it’d go. Rose needed a hot blast of purifying water. When steam filled the air, she climbed in and stood beneath the shower stream. Pressing her palms to the white tile, she shut her eyes and imagined the scalding water disinfecting her, rinsing his smell and seed from her body. She grabbed the shower gel and a loofah and roughly washed herself, dragging it across her skin until it turned red and raw.

  Maybe it was hopeless.

  She’d felt protected by the club and by Daisy’s presence, but it’d been an illusion. Rose doubted she could ever find a place safe enough to hide from Kent.

  She slid down the wall and crouched on the shower floor, rocking herself, letting the scorching water roll over her body for a long time. She wished there was some way to wash those images out of her mind.

  Actually, there was.

  Cutting herself always brought relief, albeit temporary, but it helped nonetheless. She shut off the water and threw a towel on the toilet seat lid before wrapping herself in another towel and perching on it. She fumbled in the drawer until she found the knife Duke had given her.

  Rose hooked a nail in the groove on the blade and slowly pulled it from the sheath. She ran a trembling finger down the length of it—it felt sharp, cool beneath her fingertip.

  Rose hitched up the towel and pressed the blade against her thigh, enjoying the scrape of metal on her bare flesh.

  Just one cut.

  She pulled the steel along her skin, and the blood welled in a thin red line—a hiss of pain and then sweet relief. She leaned back, nearly collapsing. The wound bled down her thigh, spattering the tile beneath her bare feet.

  For a moment, she basked in the peace, the calm.

  Then a blast of self-loathing spread through her.

  Rose stared at her bloody thigh and the blade. Duke’s words came back to her. He was right. She might not be in Kent’s cage anymore, but he still kept her mind captive.

  What the hell am I doing to myself?

  She dropped the knife and pressed a washcloth over the wound to stop the bleeding. She hadn’t even sterilized the blade before she used it.

  What the hell was she thinking? A psycho was looking to abduct and rape her again, and she sat in the bathroom slicing her own body open.

  This has to stop.

  For months now she’d been existing, living in the pain. And now she was in danger from Kent again.

  Rose wouldn’t let it happen again. She was sick of being a victim, tired of worrying, exhausted from the anxiety and the fear. Rose wanted to sleep soundly without nightmares—and she needed to deal with her problems without cutting herself.

  She couldn’t live this way. Not anymore.

  Enough is enough.

  No more scalding hot rape showers. No more blaming myself. No more hiding from the world. No more punishing myself.

  I’ve had it with being powerless.

  And yeah, that was a real nice declaration—but thoughts wouldn’t save her. Rose needed to take action.

  So what are you going to do about it?

  Rose tried to think about this calmly, rationally, instead of succumbing to the blind panic threatening to overtake her. Her first instinct was to call Daisy, which she always did. She relied on her big sister for help, for protection. When Daze had joined the Marines, there’d been a huge hole in her life—one Rose couldn’t fill.

  Daze had a family of her own to protect. She had a baby on the way, for pity’s sake. Rose couldn’t place her future niece or nephew at risk by asking for her sister’s help yet again. She couldn’t live with herself if anything happened to Daisy or the baby because of her.

  And if she told Daisy, her big sister would ride to the rescue, like always—which meant Rose had to keep this a secret from her.

  Rose needed to grow up and solve her own problems for a change. As much as she loved and trusted her sister, if Rose wanted to feel safe again, she needed to stand up. Relying solely on Daisy and the club made her vulnerable.

  Rose wanted never to be vulnerable again. She was nobody’s victim—not anymore.

  So what would Daisy do in this situation?

  Daisy would call for backup if she needed it. While the club was on high alert because of the Raptors, someone needed to know Kent was actively looking for her. The man was crazy and determined—keeping this to herself would be stupid.

  Rose had to tell someone she trusted. Daisy didn’t raise any fools.

  Another problem was a lack of self-defense skills. Learning a few tricks to protect herself was now a top priority. Unfortunately, approaching Daisy for lessons was out of the question. No, Daisy couldn’t be her white knight anymore.

  Luckily, Rose had a black knight in her corner.

  Chapter Five

  Hours later, Rose found Duke seated on a bench at the motel smoking a cigar. She liked the dark, earthy scent—a hint of
oak and leather. He smiled when he saw her approaching then hid it behind his cigar. It was startling because he usually wore a scowl.

  It made the huge favor she was about to ask a bit easier.

  “Hi.” She sat on the edge of the bench.

  “Afternoon.” Duke eyed the space between them. “Afraid I’ll bite?”

  “Why? Do you bite?” Rose didn’t know quite what to make of his statement. Was he flirting?

  “Only if you ask me nicely.” His smile was wolfish.

  Yeah, he was definitely flirting.

  The problem was, she didn’t know what to say. Rose hadn’t had a lot of practice. Rock had flirted with her blatantly, and she’d turned red and mumbled something awkward every time he hit on her. And Kent… well, nothing about their interaction was even remotely playful. Sex slaves aren’t seduced.

  She wondered for a moment what it might be like to touch Duke, to kiss him. Funny. Rose thought she’d never be interested in sex again.

  Too bad she couldn’t pursue it. She had to deal with a rapey lunatic instead.

  Rose pulled a cigarette from the pack she’d tucked into the pocket of her jeans. This time, she managed to make the lighter work and lit the cigarette. She sucked in the smoke and then started coughing.

  She’d always read smoking relaxed a person, but it didn’t work for her. Maybe if she tried something else?

  She eyed his cigar. “Can I try it?”

  “No. You aren’t a smoker. Sooner you realize it, the better.”

  “Yes, I am. See? Smoker.” She held up the cigarette in case he’d missed it.

  “More like a cougher.”

  She inhaled again which led to another coughing fit. Dammit.

  “I rest my case.”

  She stubbed it out on the sidewalk and tucked what was left back in the pack. Rose had more pressing concerns than tobacco, anyway.

  “I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to repeat it to anyone. It has to be our secret.”

  “If it’s somethin’ the club needs to know, I have to tell them.” He shifted closer.

  “This isn’t about club business. It’s personal. Very personal.”

  “And you want to share it with me? Not your sister?”

  “I can’t tell Daisy, not right now anyway.”

  “Okay, then. Out with it.”

  Rose explained the message from Kent, although she glossed over the graphic nature of it.

  “He sent you a video threat? Nothin’ else?”

  Damn. She supposed if she was going to ask for his help, she needed to be honest with him, regardless of how humiliating this was for her.

  “No, um, there was another video attached to it.” It felt strange to have this conversation in the bright sunshine. Everything about Kent was steeped in gloom.

  “What other video?”

  She hesitated. While she knew she needed to level with Duke, she couldn’t force the words out at the moment.

  “If I’m gonna help you, I gotta know everything.” His voice was gentle, reassuring.

  She stared at her feet then forced the words out in a rush. “He must’ve videotaped me while I was drugged. He liked to rape me while I was unconscious.” As she said the words, her flesh crawled. “Kent has control issues and… uh… having my body at his command excited him.”

  “He’s one sick fuck.”

  “Yeah, big time.” She darted a glance in his direction.

  His fists had clenched, and a muscle worked in his jaw. “Believe me, I’d be more than happy to take care of this problem for you, Rose.”

  “But—”

  Duke cut her off. “The club has been looking for him. He’s completely off the grid now, not using any of his bank accounts or credit cards. As far as we know, he isn’t working for the Raptors anymore.”

  “Because Daisy asked you guys to look into it, but it isn’t official club business, right?”

  “Since there were no leads, it’s been back-burnered, yes. Right now, we’re focused on finding the brothel, but I can bring this to the brothers, and we’ll put this dickhead in our crosshairs again.”

  If this became general knowledge, Daisy would go out looking for him.

  “No, I don’t want that. Not right now, anyway.”

  He watched her for a moment before he nodded. “Fine. I’ll keep it to myself for now, but they’ll eventually have to know. I might need their help to bring this guy in.”

  At least she could put off having to inform anyone else for a while. Hopefully, long enough for this situation to get settled without Daisy’s intervention.

  “Okay. Thank you.”

  “Rose, I need to see the video.” He stubbed his cigar out and then chucked it in the bin. “It might have a clue hidden in it. Some way to find him.”

  “I know.”

  She knew he needed to see it on an intellectual level—but it didn’t make it any easier. There was no other way to gather evidence, though.

  “And I’ll have to share it with Coyote. He’s an expert when it comes to this cloak and dagger media shit.”

  A blush rippled up her cheeks, burning her face. It was bad enough to live through all of this crap, let alone have to relive it on film. Now she’d have to share her violation with a stranger.

  Rose supposed she should be used to being degraded now. Living as a sex object decimated her pride, her privacy, her sense of self.

  “No, don’t.” Duke lifted her chin until she met his gaze. “You did nothing wrong. You hear me? He’s a twisted asshole who abused you, and you’re blameless. It’s the motherfucking rapist’s fault.

  She’d been hearing the sentiment for weeks, but she didn’t believe it. Not really. She’d taken up with Rock in the first place—Rose had cut classes and did drugs. While she couldn’t have known it’d lead to sexual slavery, Rose knew she was on a bad path.

  Some sort of fallout was bound to happen.

  “I know, but I still feel responsible.”

  “You don’t have to explain it to me. I understand.”

  “How could you? How could you possibly?”

  “You might be surprised.” There was something deep and unfathomable in his eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  He changed the subject. “I have a question for you. Why aren’t you tellin’ Daisy?”

  Daisy’s pregnancy was her business. She wouldn’t break her sister’s confidence.

  “It’s a long story and not mine to tell.”

  “Okay, then. Let’s try another question. Why me and not Cowboy?”

  Rose shrugged. “He’d tell Daisy.”

  Duke laughed. “Ain’t it the fuckin’ truth? Speaking of your sister, Cowboy and I found you both because I put an RFID chip in her, to track her movements. She was pissed as all get out about it, but I’m hopin’ you’ll let me inject you with one. It won’t hurt much, and I can keep tabs on you.”

  “Do it.”

  His head jerked back, lips parting.

  “Being held captive by a madman puts things in perspective.” Being tagged like a pet was humiliating, but it’d give her peace of mind—and she knew Duke and his brothers would come for her.

  “I’ll get my gear together, and we’ll do it first thing tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good.” Now for the hard part. “I told you all of this, so I could ask you for a favor. Would you train me?”

  “Train you to do what?”

  “To fight back. I need some self-defense skills. If Kent is coming for me, I want to be ready for him.”

  “You don’t think I can protect you?”

  She got the impression she’d offended him. Cowboy had asked him to look out for her, but she’d assumed it was a brotherhood service he’d been forced into, not something he really wanted to do.

  “I know you’ve been watching out for me, but I need to be ready for anything.”

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, Rose, but you aren’t the aggressive type.”

  “Ye
ah, I know—which is why I need your help.”

  “To fight, you need grit, and I don’t think you have what it takes. If I taught you, it’d give you false confidence. I don’t want you to get hurt again.”

  Rose tensed. “Good, I don’t want to get hurt either. I need you to teach me. I want to hold my own in a fight. And I need to protect myself.”

  “No, what you need is me guarding you.” His smile was all teeth and aggression. “Know what the Special Forces motto is?”

  “No.” And she didn’t care either.

  “De Opresso Liber. Latin for ‘liberate the oppressed.’ This guy has oppressed you, and it’ll be my pleasure to permanently liberate you.”

  “I’m not asking you to solve my problem. I want your guidance.” She sighed. “Let me show you what he sent me, and then you can decide.”

  Duke studied her a moment. “Shit. You know, on second thought, you don’t have to show me the damned thing. Coyote will watch it and give me the rundown. I don’t want to put you through any more shit.”

  “Trust me, you need to see it.” She stood and walked to her room. Duke followed her like a big shadow.

  Once inside the room, Rose flipped open her laptop and inserted the disk, then she paced to the window. She didn’t need to watch it again—every moment had been seared onto her retinas already. Years from now, Rose would be able to close her eyes and watch every single frame of the video.

  Duke made no comment while viewing it, but she could feel the tension emanating from him like a wave of fury—and she could see his reflection in the window. The tight set of his shoulders, the way his arms folded over his massive chest.

  When it was finally over, he shut the laptop then slid the DVD out of the computer and into his pocket, along with the case.

  “I’ll have Coyote analyze this and give it back to you. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he keeps his mouth shut about Kent.”

  She nodded. “Thanks.”

  They both stood there in uncomfortable silence.

  When he spoke, his voice was a low rumble. “He’s a dead man, Rose. I’m gonna kill him.”

  It was like a switch got flipped, and suddenly, she wasn’t staring at the surly biker anymore. She was looking at the Special Forces sniper. He had a predatory gleam in his black eyes. Duke was a man with many sides—healer, vigilante, avenging angel.