Running On Empty_Crows MC

by Cassandra Bloom

  “How’s it going, ladies?” he offered a greasy grin in our direction and then turned his gaze to me. “How much for anal?”

  I fought the urge to roll my eyes at just the abruptness of his comment and then put on the charm, giving him a wide grin as I started throwing all of the numbers.

  He smirked and leaned further over, propping the door open and nodded my way.

  “Get in,” he ordered with an oily smirk.

  I glanced over at Candy who, while still working to not show her discomfort at the situation, gave me a wink and smile, mouthing “stay warm” to me. I frowned, not liking leaving her and, moreso, not liking leaving with this guy. He gave me bad vibes and while I certainly never worked with the suave types, this guy’s whole aura just screamed “sleaze-ball.” I moved to sit beside him and instantly his hand went to my breasts, squeezing hard as he turned back onto the street.

  “How long you been working?” he smirked over at me, his eyes glued to my tits.

  I swallowed back the revulsion and gave him a grin, “A lady never tells.”

  He laughed. “What lady, whore?”

  “Whatever lady you want me to be,” I responded, somehow keeping my sales charm intact despite all the warning alarms.

  While I was used to rude comments, my experience with Jace was beginning to have its effect on me. And in my state of pseudo-withdrawals, I wasn’t exactly in a good place to be dealing with the abuse. Thinking about it, I realized that I was already preparing to be rubbed the wrong way by this guy.

  More and more, though, I was finding myself hating the idea of being rubbed any way by this guy…

  This guy or any other…

  Keep it together, Mia! Survival is how we fight! Survival… is how we fight!

  I faked a smile his way once again and looked up as he pulled into a nearby motel. I frowned. This had never happened before. The world was a blur of weirdness and unease as he led me in, paid in cash for a room, and then dragged me to it.

  “Strip for me,” he said before the door to the room was even closed. It clicked shut—something heavy and finalizing in that sound—and he moved to sit on the bed, unslinging a bag that had been hanging on his shoulder that I was only now just noticing. “I said strip!” he commanded.

  The bag scared me, but the idea of not doing as he said and giving him a reason to focus on it rather than me scared me more. I did as he said. I stood in front of him and began to strip. I was in sales mode—autopilot—and I was surprised at how simple it was to just go through the motions. Like a programmed robot—command prompt, enter. Once I was naked, I watched as he stood and stepped over to me, smirking his oily smirk down at me as his hands went to my breasts. I gasped at the cold, slimy feel of his hands, but managed to pass off the sound as a moan. Seeming satisfied that he’d done something right, his smirk grew to an oil-spill smile.

  “Careful, tiger,” I purred. “You don’t wanna damage the goods.”

  “Don’t I?” he grinned widely and I nearly puked at the sight of his brown teeth seeming to glow in the dim room.

  I frowned, unsure what to say at that, but quickly caught myself before losing it right there in front of him. I knew T-Built would not like hearing about how one of his prostitutes outright puked on one of their clients. Instead, I offered another fake smile and moved my hands over his.

  Just get it over with, Mia!

  “You wanted anal, right? What position do you want to fuck me in?” I purred.

  The guy smirked and pushed me back on the bed. “On your knees, slut!”

  While I certainly wasn’t a stranger to being pushed around—hell, T-Built had certainly not been shy in smacking me around in the past—I was not liking being manhandled this way. This John seemed to be thinking of sex second to something else; seemed to be holding back a lot of aggression. I looked over, watching as he opened his bag and I saw him pull out a studded whip.

  “H-hey, whoa, baby,” I started, trying to work the sales angle still. “There’s anal and then there’s this. You never said anything about—”

  “Shut up!” he snapped, pointing the handle of the whip at me like it was something else.

  Like it was something else, I froze; I shut up.

  “You’re a whore, whore,” he said, less to me and more to the room as he continued to pull a few more things out of his bag. It was starting to look like a checklist for an extreme BDSM session, sporting a number of dildos and plugs that I knew for a fact would never fit in any part of me. I gritted my teeth, trying to figure out how to get out of this without some painful tears and a need for a seat cushion for the next few days when he took out the last object in his bag.

  BDSM was one thing—I certainly wasn’t about to kink-shame anyone anytime soon—but I must have been sick from school the day that kitchen knives made the list.

  I felt a nervous squeak ooze past my lips as I realized the thing was longer than some of the dildos.

  “Look, I don’t know what you’re planning here, but you only asked for anal,” I tried to remind him, starting to move away from him and towards the opposite side of the bed. “I’m all for letting you fuck my ass, but my pimp’s not gonna be happy if I—”

  “T-Built will get more than enough money to be satisfied,” he interrupted me, still smirking. “Don’t you worry about that.”

  I swallowed back the terror. While I had heard horror stories involving prostitutes winding up killed while on the job, I’d been lucky enough to feel at least somewhere protected working for T-Built. He had a name for himself and most the people who came around were aware of it and left his business alone.

  “I… I’m an asset!” I declared, hoping that if he knew T-Built he’d know how he felt about losing things that made him money. “You can’t just pay him to kill one of his—”

  “Then I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t plan to kill you,” he said the words as though they were meant to make all of this better. “It’ll heal. It’ll hurt, yes, but it’ll heal. And doesn’t anal hurt? Didn’t stop you from agreeing and getting in the car.”

  I didn’t have breath enough to tell him that anal didn’t have to hurt. Something about this guy told me he wouldn’t like the idea of any kind of sex if it didn’t bring pain.

  I swallowed hard and watched as he set the knife beside the other toys. “Now, get back on your knees,” he ordered.

  I shivered, thinking that I might still be able to get out of this without…

  My eyes flashed at the knife.

  I sucked in a breath and pouted. “If I-I do… if I do ev-everything you say… a-and more—I’m really creative, y-y’know—w-will you pr-promise me n-not to u-use th-th-that?” I cursed inwardly at my increasingly shaky voice as I pointed to the knife.

  He raised an eyebrow, glanced down at the knife, and offered a casual shrug. “Wouldn’t hurt your chances, I guess,” he said.

  Still shivering, I got back on my knees.

  I watched as he picked up the studded whip, now smiling a wide, toothy smile, and raised his arm. I closed my eyes, bracing myself for the pain. The whip was okay—that was what I told myself. I could handle that—I’d handled worse—and I could even handle the other stuff. What I couldn’t handle was what might happen if I didn’t do what he said. If I tried to run…

  Well, there was no guarantee I’d make it out before he caught up to me.

  Worse yet, if I did make it out. This guy knew T-Built by name; knew his policies, his rules, knew everything. So if I ran and I did manage to get away, what was to stop this guy from turning around and telling T-Built all about it? And what T-Built could do—would do!—was much, much worse than this oily creep and his comparably laughable knife.

  SMACK!

  I cried out in pain, not able to swallow back to cry as the whip came down on my lower back. The pain was searing and I could feel a hot liquid begin to trail its way down my back and dripping onto the bed. I stared in horror at the crimson stain that continued to grow. Keeling
forward, I puked up the ramen I’d had before I’d left with Candy.

  “Oh my… are you—Disgusting!” the man cried, shoving me down, face-first, into my own sickness.

  My eyes stung and my mouth and nose were flooded until I was practically drowning in my own sickness, muffling my cries to wailing gurgles and coughs as the whip came down several more times, harder than before.

  GET AWAY! YOU HAVE TO GET AWAY! YOU HAVE TO—

  I yanked my head to the side, just enough to capture a breath of fresh air. My eyes still burned, blurry with puke and tears, but I could just make out the glimmer of the knife’s blade in the dim, seedy motel lighting.

  If I could just…

  I saw the man’s arm raise for another strike out of the corner of my eye, and the terror of feeling another stinging bite of that awful whip was enough to have me lunging across the bed. In mid-jump, I snagged the knife, capturing the handle and missing the blade by millimeters. Still moving, I rolled over the edge of the bed, the sound of the whip coming down on the stained bed sound lame and empty. The man cursed, obviously not satisfied by that sound, and he turned to reacquire his target.

  I acquired him first.

  Making up for my awkward angle on the floor beside, I drove the knife up in his direction, watching with some satisfaction and a great deal of horror as the blade sank into the meat of his side.

  I’ve never even been in a fight before… I thought, distantly feeling a sense of running before I’d learned how to walk.

  The man let loose a loud cry and fell to his knees in pain.

  “What? WHAT?” I shrieked at him, feeling some primal urge rise in me. “Isn’t this what you wanted to do to me?” I cried, shaking.

  “F-f-f-fuck… you… bitch!” he seethed between clenched teeth, working to stand.

  “NO!” I screamed, kicking out at him. One of my stilettos’ heels came down on the side of his face then, and I felt another sick wave of satisfaction.

  He let out a grunt of pain as he stumbled out of his kneel and landed flat on his ass.

  Seeing my chance, I scooped up my clothes, and, not bothering to put anything on just yet, sprinted for the door. I was through, out, and down the hall in what I was sure was less than a second. I screamed past an old man walking by with a bucket of ice, his gawking, wrinkled face following me as I went by; the sound of cubes clattering on the floor behind me sounded as the contents of his bucket spilled.

  Still in mid-run, I began a clumsy-yet-effective “dance” to get back into my clothes. My skirt was crooked but more-or-less in place. My top was on, but my left arm was occupying the spot my head should have been, my head crammed through one of the sleeves and all-but choking me, and my remaining arm hanging awkwardly out the bottom, leaving the garment hanging off me crookedly and threatening to expose a breast if I didn’t keep the arm by my side.

  I didn’t care.

  I ran.

  I ran, screaming and crying still, past the lobby. The man behind the counter might have said something—I thought I heard “WAIT!”—but—fuck that!—I ran on still. Out into the night, where the rain had picked up again. I wanted to hate it, people normally hated the rain, but it felt a hell of a lot better than it had felt in that awful room. The cool water ran down my back, soaking into my shirt and stinging at the wounds the awful man’s whip had left there.

  “Fuck…” I whimpered, finally free to come to terms with everything that had transpired. Then, “Fuck. FUCK!”

  And then I was running again. Running across the parking lot, onto the grass—stumbling and slipping in the mud and rain-slicked turf—and barreling onto the sidewalk with nearly enough force to send me toppling. It wasn’t nearly enough. Keeping my feet under me, I kept right on running, and, still running, I started to reach for my purse—my phone.

  Fuck Mack!

  Fuck T-Built!

  Fuck the Carrion Crew!

  FUCK THEM ALL!

  What I needed was…

  But my hands knew; my fingers knew. They had my phone, and they were already dialing. I was running, crying, through the city streets, blood pouring down my back in rivers of rainwater, but I’d never before been so focused on a single goal.

  The phone rang twice.

  On the third ring I heard His voice.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew that Mia the whore had died back in that room.

  The world would never see her again.

  And, just like that, he was there.

  Holding me tight to his warm body.

  God, he was so warm…

  I nuzzled in closely to his body, willing my body to take his heat, urging myself to take in the warmth he so willingly offered. His arms wrapped around my knees and I hadn’t even realized that he had lifted me into his arms, carrying me bridal style through the entrance.

  I blinked, feeling the lift of the elevator. I hadn’t even realized we were already through the hall. I was struggling to keep myself focused on anything. Jace held me close, whispering soothing words in my ear and I closed my eyes, letting their strength flow through me. Everything was alright now. I knew it. Deep down I knew that Jace would be there for me. That Jace would protect me from whatever was wrong.

  We were in his condo before I even realized we had left the elevator and Jace was carefully setting me on the couch. I let him, watching him closely as he helped pull my top off. His eyes flashed with rage as he saw my back and I bit my lip at his reaction.

  “How bad is it?” I spoke softly, still fighting not to break down again.

  “Who did this to you?” he growled. “Is he still alive?”

  I glanced up, my face growing pale at the raw intensity that thrummed from Jace. I didn’t know what to say. I looked down, nodding slowly and watched in horror as Jace stood. He made a move to turn, about to head back to the elevator. I reached out and grabbed his arm, desperate for him not to leave me. I didn’t want to be alone. I couldn’t stand it at this point. I whimpered, squeezing gently and shook my head, pleading with him not to leave.

  “Please,” I whimpered. “Don’t leave me.”

  He glanced back at me and then looked down, taking a deep breath as he did and nodded slowly. “Alright… I won’t.”

  I smiled gently and squeezed his arm. He gently pried my arm from his and I watched as he turned to head to the kitchen. I opened my mouth to protest. Had he decided to do it anyway? I didn’t know what to do. I had never been in a situation like this before.

  “Don’t worry,” he lifted a cloth as he ran some water over it. “I’m just going to clean you up, okay?”

  I nodded, my shoulders relaxing as he made his way back to me. He pulled my top completely off and helped to lie me on my stomach. I watched him, basking in the feeling of his soothing touch. I had never felt this protected, this cared for before. I closed my eyes, wishing for all the bad stuff to go away. To allow myself to be free. To be free with this man who cared so much about me. I had never had something like this before and I was desperate to not lose it. I couldn’t let anything stand in my way this time.

  “This might hurt a bit,” he whispered.

  I almost laughed at that, but I only nodded. “I’ll be okay. Thank you.”

  He smiled admirably at me and said, “That’s my girl.”

  And I was, wasn’t I? The delight I found in his words flooded me with warmth and I could almost forget everything that had happened before this moment. He began to clean my wounds and the sharp pain on my back threatened to bring it back. Jace leaned forward, kissing my shoulder as he began to clean the whip marks. After the blood had been washed away, I glanced back and saw that the wounds had already begun to stop bleeding. I was still too wet from the rain for them to scab, but I realized that they weren’t as deep as I’d initially thought. I relaxed at the sight and looked back at Jace.

  “I stabbed him,” I confessed.

  He raised an eyebrow at that. “You… stabbed him? With what?”

  “Knife,” I said l
amely, remembering the sight of it cutting through the air, then stabbing into him.

  “Yours?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “His?”

  It seemed so obvious until I realized he didn’t know where any of this had happened. I nodded again.

  “Do you think he planned to use it on you?” Jace prodded further.

  I shrugged but said, “He seemed to want to. Said that he didn’t plan to kill me… but—” I shook my head, not wanting to sound like I had overreacted, suddenly worried that I might have. I was beginning to cry. “I mean, I guess it might not have been that bad.”

  “Not that bad?” he shook his head. “He whipped you against your will, Mia! He attacked you! If you’re worried about how this looks let me help you out: you’re the victim in every scenario! You defended yourself against an assault,” he explained.

  I watched, as he said this, as a fresh wave of anger came over him. He shook, his face turning red, and he turned away, driving one of his balled fists into the wall. His arm broke through to his elbow. Cursing, he yanked his arm back, shaking off the dust and debris and muttering something about “at least not finding the stud,” and then sighed, shaking his head.

  “Please tell me you’re not going back out there again,” he pleaded.

  I shook my head violently. “No. Never again!” I promised.

  This seemed to relax him a bit, and he sighed, smiling lamely, and leaned against the wall.

  “You finally ready to spend the night?” he asked.

  I blushed and nodded, surprised to find myself actually smiling. I wouldn’t have thought a smile possible after the night I’d had.

  He smiled back and said, “Okay. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

  I bit my lip, fighting the stupid pride that welled up about his offer to protect me and decided that it was what needed to happen. I nodded and then paused, remembering Candy, remembering T-Built’s threat to my family, to anyone with any sort of connection. I bit my lip, thinking back to T-Built’s “test” of my loyalty. He would definitely make good on his word. I glanced over at Jace, wondering just how much I could rely on him. I didn’t want to become a burden, but I couldn’t go back. Not after everything that had happened.