by J. L. Leslie
What did she do?
She gazed at me with such a hunger that I had to devour her. She screamed that she hated me, that she would kill me, while her body begged me to fuck her. She extracted a mind-blowing orgasm from me like no other woman ever has, and I fear no other woman ever will.
I took her so I could ruin her.
I had no fucking idea how easily she could decimate me.
Mackenzie
I get out of the shower and ring out my tank top and panties the best that I can. Not much I can do about a soaking wet thong. I had to shower, though. I couldn’t stand having Warren’s sticky cum between my legs. It only served as a reminder of the monumental mistake I made.
Again.
Did it feel good?
Abso-fucking-lutely.
It was incredible, but that doesn’t change the fact that the asshole kidnapped and locked me in a damn basement. I’ve seen enough movies to know this doesn’t turn out well for me.
Either I’ll end up buried somewhere in a shallow grave, or I’ll develop some sick case of Stockholm Syndrome, and let’s face it, I’m like Red Riding Hood, but I’m happy to be devoured by the big bad wolf.
Only this big bad wolf isn’t wearing a disguise, and I’m not innocent like Red Riding Hood. Might as well pour myself a glass of wine and get ready to be eaten alive.
Making the decision that I’m not going to lie down and take it, pun intended, I put a plan into action. First things first, the cuffs have to go. Warren surprisingly supplied me with shampoo and body wash. I dump a generous amount onto my left ankle and lubricate my skin, doing my best to slip the cuff off.
If I can’t get the cuffs off my feet, then I’m screwed, seeing as how those are the cuffs that secure me to the floor. I work the cuff down my heel, but despite the amount of shampoo I’ve wasted on my foot, I can’t get it off, and I’m not at the stage of desperation I’ve seen on movies where I’m willing to cut my own foot off, not that I have a weapon to do that with anyway.
Giving up on that idea, I rinse my feet off and decide on plan B, whatever that might be. I walk out of the bathroom and assess my surroundings. The room is truly basic with the mattress and shelves full of boxed items, but Warren didn’t leave much in my vicinity. The shelved items are out of reach.
I approach the mattress, and it annoys me that he was smart enough not to leave a frame or headboard of any kind. There are only two mattresses stacked on top of one another. Nothing useful there.
I’m not one to give up, and I don’t want to let hopelessness overcome me so I test the length of my chain, stretching it as far as I can make it go. I’m still arm’s length away from any of the shelves.
I drop down to my knees and lay flat on my stomach, stretching out to full length. I can just tip the bottom box with my fingertips.
“Shit!” I scream out in frustration and then scurry to my feet when I hear the door opening.
I stand there as Warren walks down the steps and curse at myself when my stomach growls at the aroma of food. He carries a brown paper bag and a suitcase. My suitcase.
“How did you get that?” I ask him, and he chuckles. “Did you go in my house again?”
Instead of answering, he tosses me the brown paper bag. I somehow manage to catch it and not jump up and down like a child who was just given a present at Christmas.
I go over to the mattress and sit down with my legs folded beneath me. I take the burger and fries out, telling myself not to scarf it down because I don’t know when he’ll come back to feed me.
“How long are you going to keep me down here?” I ask him.
“Why? You think people are missing you already?” he smarts. “It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. No one is fucking missing you.”
“Warren, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but this isn’t funny anymore.”
He watches me eat, not making any effort to chit-chat and certainly not making any effort to release me. When I’m finished, he opens the suitcase, revealing my clothes folded neatly inside along with a pack of my birth control pills.
It hits me then that he plans to keep me down here indefinitely. He probably made it look like I left town. Might have even contacted my job to let them know I was leaving. I have no idea how far he’s willing to go to cover his tracks, but I wouldn’t put anything past him.
“I’ll take off one cuff at a time so you can change your clothes,” he informs me.
There’s no warning issued of what he’ll do should I try to fight him or escape. There’s no need for him to tell me. I already know.
Since I don’t have a death wish, I cooperate while he uncuffs my right ankle and slides my thong down my thighs. He replaces them with a pair of soft, cotton panties. The process goes the same for my damp tank top until I’m dressed in a comfy t-shirt.
“Thank you,” I mumble, unsure of what to say exactly.
Warren places his finger underneath my chin and tilts my face up to his. His blue eyes stare down at me, studying me with curiosity and a softness I can’t explain.
“You’re welcome,” he whispers, and then those beautiful eyes of his harden to the usual cold stare he gives me.
Chapter Fourteen
Warren
I’ve held people against their will before and in much worse places than the basement of my childhood home. I took them, beat the fucking shit out of them, and locked them away.
I never worried about whether or not they were hungry, had clean clothes, or if they were lonely.
I only returned to beat them further, gain the intel I needed for the club, and when I had everything I needed from them, I disposed of them. Not giving them a second thought.
This shitshow with Mackenzie is different.
She’s been there one night, and I’m going fucking crazy with worry. Reid is on surveillance, and I’m with Lucien now, surveying the properties we secured from Rutledge, but my mind isn’t focused. I keep going to the woman I’m holding prisoner. Wondering if she’s hungry. Curious to know if the clothes she’s wearing are comfortable. Most of all, wanting to know if she misses my company.
This isn’t what I had planned. I am usually methodical and calm when it comes to carrying out plans. I sort them out and make sure that when I do a job, it will be done properly. I follow orders from my president, but I also make sure I can carry out those orders without failing.
I did none of those things when I took Mackenzie. I went into her home half-cocked, and she nearly got the best of me. Almost knocked one of my damn teeth out.
“Are you limping?” Lucien asks, glancing down at my leg.
“No,” I lie.
Truth is, my thigh is more than sore but I’ll be damned if I admit that. Mackenzie must’ve gotten me deeper than I realized. I don’t know how I didn’t bleed out when I was fucking her.
“Do you think I’m fucking blind? I can see you’re limping like some damn cripple. I thought you had Leann stitch that up.”
“She did,” I reply.
Soco’s wife is the best with a needle and thread. She closed the wound up, but it’s going to take some time for it to heal.
I don’t go into further details about my damn thigh but start checking the lock on the door before surveying the shelves that are still lined with items. “I think this space will work.”
“Me too,” Lucien replies, allowing me to change the subject. “I know of other clubs that run their own shops. I see no reason why we can’t run an auto parts store.”
“There’s a lot of space in the back for storing our product and from what I can tell, a pretty good security system with the cameras. We’ll have to get Harco to check on it to be sure.”
“Hold that thought,” Lucien says, pulling his phone from his back pocket and walking off to answer it.
I continue checking the place out, although we looked at it before we purchased it. We wouldn’t have gotten it if we had concerns with being able to keep our shit here. Having a storefront as a cover-up is
a damn good idea. We can launder the money through the store and even do shipments from here as well. Possibly expand out of the L.A. area.
“Shit,” Lucien mutters, rejoining me. “Harper says she’s gotten word that Suzanne is still missing and now she’s worried that Mackenzie is too.”
He’s worried she’ll figure it out and be pissed with him. I swear he’s the most pussy-whipped man I’ve ever met.
“I get the other woman, but what makes her think Mackenzie?” I ask him.
“She said Mackenzie sent word that she was going out of town to Donia and her boss. Donia reached out to Harper to see if she knew anything.”
“I covered my tracks, so why would Harper think she’s missing. The two of them don’t even speak, do they?”
He shrugs. “Harper calls her all the time, but Mackenzie never answers. She’s in a damn panic though, assuring me Mackenzie would not go out of town to help any family she has left when none of them showed up for her brother’s funeral. She’s freaking out because now that she’s left Hell’s Fury, she’s worried they won’t keep her filled in. I’m not even sure how she knows about this other woman.”
“I would think Mackenzie could handle herself,” I reply. “And I didn’t realize she left the club.”
“Yeah, it only happened recently. She said she was tired of choosing sides.”
“Makes sense.”
“Damn it,” he grumbles, reading an incoming text on his phone. “Harper wants me to check into Suzanne and call Suggs and see what he thinks about Mackenzie. If he for one second believes something has happened to Mackenzie, he’ll go fucking crazy. You positive you covered your fucking tracks?”
“Yes,” I answer. “Didn’t realize they were so serious about each other,” I grunt.
“He’s seems to be serious about her, and he’s a damn psycho when he’s pissed. I don’t want to be on his shit list.”
I follow Lucien out of the building, locking the door behind me. “Tell Harper I’ll check into the both of them and see if that will buy us some time.”
He’s texting Harper now, no doubt trying to calm her down. “Yeah, that’ll work. See what you can find out. In the meantime, go check on Mackenzie and report back to me when you get an answer out of her. The sooner we can wash our hands of that, the better.”
I climb onto my bike and let Lucien know I’ll get back with him. He rides off to check out our other property, and I keep my word to him.
I go check on Mackenzie.
Mackenzie
I am not the type of person who needs to be constantly entertained but lying here in this basement is making me go stir crazy.
No cell phone. No television. No food.
Lounging in the bathtub isn’t exactly fun either, considering my wrists and ankles are cuffed. My highlight of the day was stretching across the floor as far as I could and actually pushing on the boxes on the shelves instead of just grazing my fingers over them. I’m dying to know what’s in them. Pictures of other women he’s brought here? Body parts wrapped in cellophane?
I immediately cross off the last notion, figuring Warren is not a souvenir type of guy. Besides, I would most likely smell the dead if there were any down here, considering a ceiling fan is my only source of cool air.
I stare up at the fan now, lying flat on my back on the mattress, and listen to the annoying sound it makes. Normally, the hum of a fan would lull me to sleep, but not today. Not here. It’s driving me fucking insane today.
I turn over onto my side, my back to the door, and tell my brain to rest so that my body can. I barely slept last night, fearing Warren would come back while at the same time fearing that he wouldn’t.
He didn’t.
I shouldn’t be annoyed about that, but I am. He left me down here after he fucked and fed me and didn’t even come back to check on me.
Ugh. What an asshole.
I giggle quietly to myself at the thought and the fact that I’m laughing at this situation truly proves how insane I am. Tears spring to my eyes out of nowhere, and I blink them back.
Yes, I’m truly going insane.
I hear the lock on the door followed by footsteps, and a sigh of relief escapes me. I’m not alone anymore.
Still, I lie there, unmoving, and allow Warren to believe I’m sleeping. Perhaps I can catch him off guard. The mattress dips as he sits down beside me.
“Mackenzie?” he says, quietly, and I don’t respond. “Fuck, what am I doing?” he mutters, and I lie there listening to him speak. “I should let you go.”
I want to scream at him that he should, that keeping me down here is wrong, but I can’t seem to get the words out. I’m too entranced in what he’s saying, what he’s doing.
His hand skims over my bare arm, so lightly that I can barely feel his touch, yet my skin is on fire from it. He presses a gentle kiss to the top of my shoulder, and I finally roll over and look at him.
His eyes are closed as his lips linger at my flesh. His forehead is creased with worry, possibly guilt. He’s treating me like a cherished treasure he wants to keep hidden from the world, not a prisoner he wants to slaughter.
“Warren,” I whisper his name, and he jolts up, running a hand through his thick hair.
I sit up, crawling around him and then onto his lap. I straddle him with my knees, my ankles together between his legs and the chain binding them dangling to the floor.
He watches me as I reach between us, unbuckling his pants and reaching inside so I can stroke his dick. His hands ball into fists, pushing down into the mattress before he gives in and cups my ass. I move my hands up and down his shaft, smoothing pre-cum over the tip.
“Why are you doing this?” he questions me, his gaze locked with mine.
I rub his tip over my panties and then tug them to the side, sliding him up and down between my slit. He reaches up and takes my face in his hands, his thumb tracing my bottom lip.
He asks me again, “Why are you doing this, Mackenzie?”
I guide him inside me, impaling myself on his cock, and begin to rock back and forth. I move my hands up his chest and place them around his neck.
“Isn’t this what you want?” I answer. “To have me here all to yourself?”
His eyes turn cold, but his body still responds to mine. He pistons his hips, driving upward and creating the most delicious friction I’ve ever felt.
This is what I crave, what I need.
The hatred I have for this man doesn’t compare to the lust I feel for him. If he hadn’t taken me, we would still be like this. This would’ve happened regardless.
We both know it.
“Yes,” he admits. “I want you here, exactly like this, Mackenzie. All to myself. Fuck your job. Fuck your club. Fuck the whole world. We can burn it down.”
Fuck the whole world. I want this too.
Burn it all.
We can dance on the ashes.
Chapter Fifteen
Warren
I unlock the cuffs on Mackenzie’s ankles first and then her wrists. She rubs them and stares down at her now-freed hands and feet. If she wanted to make a run for it, I probably wouldn’t stop her.
She doesn’t run, though. Instead, she strips off her clothes and heads toward the bathroom. Moments later, I hear the shower running.
I allow her to shower in privacy, although I would love to join her. Lather the soap in my hands and rub them over her body, cleansing her from the dirtiness of our fucking. I can’t call it lovemaking, because I have no idea what that is, and I know that what we’re doing is dirty.
She has a boyfriend, and not only have I stolen her from him, I’ve stolen her away from everyone. Guilt nags at me, telling me again that I should let her go.
But what if she doesn’t want to leave?
“You brought me a lot of clothes,” Mackenzie comments, strutting back into the room. She’s naked, and I can see water droplets on her skin. “You planning on keeping me forever?”
Yes.
“
How did you get the scars on your back?” I ask her changing the subject.
“It was for punishment,” she replies vaguely and then adds, “From Hell’s Fury.”
I furrow my brow and approach her, moving my fingertips over her marred flesh. “They did this to you? Your own club?”
“I made a mistake on a job, and I learned my lesson.”
“They did this to Harper too,” I muse, still unsure why the president of a club would use such tactics to punish its members. Sure, I understand getting your ass beat, but this is a whole different level. Bruises fade, but these scars will be on her body forever.
“She deserved it, and so did I.”
“What did you do?” I question, and she pulls a t-shirt on, covering herself, before stepping into a pair of panties.
“Is this your house?” she asks, avoiding my question and successfully changing the subject the way I did. “I’m guessing those boxes contain your belongings. Maybe your parents’ stuff or your siblings’ things. Do you have siblings?”
“No, I don’t have any siblings.”
“I had one, but I think you know that already,” she smarts. “He was a great big brother. Always looking out for me and taking care of our family. Then, well, your club ended his life. Strung him up in town like he was a fucking pinata.”
“I had nothing to do with that,” I reply. “I wasn’t in the Sinners at that time, and neither was Lucien.”
“Ah, he was there but dead, right? And let’s face it, you’re no different than the others,” she remarks. “You’ve done terrible things, just as they have.”
“Everyone does terrible things,” I say. “Including your boyfriend.”
“I know about the things he does,” she states. “If I don’t kill you for this, he certainly will.”
“We’re back to that now?” I laugh. “You ride my cock, screaming my name, and now you want to kill me again?”
She shoots me a smirk. “I know how to keep business and pleasure separated.”
“So, killing me would be business and fucking me is pleasure?” I question her and she nods.
