Hot as Hades (Four Horsemen MC Book 2)

by Rayne, Cynthia

  “Oh, yeah, I thought the name sounded familiar,” she lied. “What kind of questions?”

  “The kind you ask when someone’s gone missing.” He looked at her thoughtfully. “Or been murdered. Know anything about that?”

  “No.”

  He was silent for a moment, observing her, and she didn’t think he quite believed the answer, but he continued on. “Anyway, the Raptors aren’t overly fond of law enforcement, so they declined to answer any questions. They even conveniently misplaced the club’s videotapes, when he asked for them.”

  “They have cams at the bar?” She hadn’t remembered seeing any. He nodded and she could feel the blood draining from her face. Shit! It hadn’t even occurred to her they would videotape anything. After all, the Raptors had to be involved in felonies all the time. Who in their right mind kept a visual record?

  “Yes, and apparently, you were seen walking out the door with him.”

  She nodded, but said nothing.

  He tilted his face to the side, studying her. “You are also on tape holding him at knifepoint, along with another man who isn’t quite visible on screen.”

  I seriously can’t catch a break.

  She started to speak, but he held up a hand. “The club didn’t tell the police anything, but believe me when I tell you, you don’t want to be found. And I don’t want you to worry,” he said quickly. “I won’t mention seeing you.”

  “Why are you helping me?” she asked.

  “I think you know why.” He grasped one blond curl, wrapped it around his finger and she froze, unsure what to say. “That’s why you came to me, isn’t it? You know I sent the necklace.”

  “I do,” she said quickly, but something about the way he stared at her made her distinctly nervous.

  Maybe Cowboy had been right when he’d called the heart necklace a stalker’s obsessive love token. She’d mistaken it for a harmless crush or a flirtation, but what did she know? Kent was her very first stalker.

  “Are you wearing it?” he asked eagerly.

  “No, I’m sorry, though it is in my jewelry box,” she lied, thinking she’d probably have to pry the damned thing out of Cowboy’s cold dead hands to get it back. “But I think it’s absolutely beautiful.”

  His smile returned. “I’m glad you like it. I have such a weakness for gold; it even extends to stunning young women with golden hair, such as yourself. You look just like Goldilocks,” he murmured, stroking her hair.

  He seemed really intense, so she shifted away, wishing she could snatch her hair out of his grasp without being rude. Hard to ask someone for information after you told him to get his damn hands off you.

  She cleared her throat. “I need to ask you about Rock. Did you ever see him with another young blond woman, one who looks like me? She’s a bit shorter and younger too.”

  Kent tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, I have,” he said. “He’d been to the club a couple of times with her, and from what I gathered she was living with him.”

  She sucked in a breath, worry and hope warring inside.

  “She might be my sister,” she supplied quickly. “You were right when you said I had another reason for being here. I do. Rose dated a guy named Rock and he basically turned her life inside out. She dropped out of classes, stopped talking to her family, and left town with him. Do you know where Rock’s place is?”

  “Have you asked the police for help?” he asked sharply.

  “I tried, but the police were less than supportive.” She then explained Rose’s criminal history, how they’d assumed she was just another junkie, who’d gone on a binge.

  “And do you intend to involve the police?”

  She shook her head. “Right now, I’m only interested in getting Rose back. Nothing else.” It was the truth. She wanted to stop the Raptors, but she had a feeling that particular task would fall to the Horsemen. Her priority was finding Rose.

  He patted her knee, his hand lingering a bit too long. “You must understand that while I do not approve of this operation, I’m aware of it. Rock has been known to… procure women for the club. He asks them for a love donation at first, to build the trust. And then, apparently, sells them for a finder’s fee.”

  “A love donation,” she muttered. Her stomach twisted itself into little knots. Oh God. It’s almost exactly what her mother’s pimp had done to her. Only now it’s happening to Rose.

  Daisy’s worst fear realized.“Do you know where the brothel is?” she asked quickly.

  The attorney shook his head. “I’ve only heard rumors, bits of information. I wanted plausible deniability in case it came to light.”

  Yeah. You’re a real stand up guy, Kent.

  “But, I do know where Rock lives,” he said quickly. There might be some information at his place. He’s living at a property owned by his family and he asked me a few legal questions regarding ownership, so I have documentation on it.”

  “Where is he staying?”

  “I don’t remember it off the top of my head, but I do have the records at home. I could get you the address.”

  Another lead! Oh, thank God. She’d been right to come here. But she wouldn’t let this blow back on him, not after he stuck his neck out for her, even if she might find him distasteful. “Are you sure you want to help me? They would be very angry with you if they found out.”

  He laughed, a bittersweet sound. “I’m betting anger would be the least of my problems if they found out. That’s why I employ private security,” he said with a smile. “But, as I said, I’m an officer of the court. I’ll help you find your sister any way I can.”

  On impulse, she leaned forward and hugged him. Kent clutched her, holding her tight and the embrace lasted far too long for her comfort. Eventually, she patted his back to signal the end of the hug and he slowly released her.

  “Why don’t you follow me home and we’ll take a look at the paperwork?” he offered.

  “Sounds good.”

  She hopped out of his car and started up the Silverado, then followed Kent for miles until they arrived at a cottage in the country, located down its very own secluded road. His nearest neighbors weren’t for miles. Evidently, being rich bought you a lot of privacy.

  When she arrived, she checked her phone and found she didn’t have a signal. She’d thought briefly about texting Cowboy, letting him know her whereabouts. But no bars meant no messages could go through, so the decision was out of her hands.

  She patted the gun and knife in the pocket of her hoodie. Well, at least she was armed if Kent decided to get a bit too friendly. Though, she really wasn’t worried. She could take him in a fight.

  She sprang out of the Silverado and followed Kent onto the front porch. Just as he opened the door, two men in a black sedan pulled up, unmistakably his security detail. He waved to them and the men began to circle the house, probably performing a perimeter check before they started the shift.

  “I’m going to pour myself some lemonade,” Kent said. “Would you care for some?”

  “Yes, please.” She struggled to be polite, though she really wanted to push him in the direction of his files, so she could find Rock’s house. From her previous encounter with him, she remembered his insistence on small talk and social niceties and didn’t want to give him any reason to send her home without the information.

  She gestured to their surroundings. “Is this your place or do you rent?”

  “It’s mine,” he said. “Before I started representing the Raptors, I bought it for the weekends. My law practice was in Dallas, and I needed a break from the city, so I’d come out here and relax, go for walks, do some antiquing.”

  “It’s gorgeous,” she said, surveying the room. “Did you decorate it yourself?”

  “No, I hired a decorator, though she got a lot of input from me. I have very refined tastes and I wanted to make sure my home reflected that style.”

  Kent handed her the glass of lemonade and she sipped it as she continued to peru
se the room. A fireplace dominated one wall and she noted a painting above it, done in cool blue tones. The gold plaque beside the frame said “The Odalisque”.

  She’d gotten familiar with Middle Eastern culture since she’d been stationed in the region and she’d heard the term before. It referred to a woman owned by a sultan, a woman in his harem. The concubine in the painting reclined on her back in a sensual pose. It hinted at sexual domination and power.

  What an odd thing to put in the living room.

  Kent came up behind her, invading her space. “Ah, what do you think of my treasure?” he asked. His fingers ghosted possessively over the ornate gold frame.

  Daisy shivered involuntarily at his tone.

  She didn’t know a damn thing about art, but she knew this particular painting made her uneasy. However, an honest reply wouldn’t get her what she wanted, so offered him a smile instead. “It’s very interesting.”

  “I think so too. I believe a man should treasure a woman who is only there to provide him with pleasure.”

  What?!

  “You aren’t drinking your lemonade,” he prompted.

  She brought it to her lips again, and he pressed a fingertip to the bottom of the glass, encouraging her to drink it all. She did to be polite, but something seemed off to her. Again, that primitive sabertooth tiger part of her brain awakened.

  “Have a seat,” he said.

  She chose the white sofa, while he picked a wing chair opposite her. Between them, an antique trunk served as a coffee table. He had wooden floors and a large Persian rug covering most of the floor space. Kent smoothed the pleats in his pant legs, looking very satisfied with himself.

  Daisy suddenly felt woozy. “What’s happening to me?” she asked, blinking.

  “Maybe you’re tired?” he offered dryly.

  She opened her eyes wider, trying to force herself to wake up, to get it together, but her body refused to respond. Her responses were dulled, sluggish. “What the hell did you do to me?” She yawned then.

  “I gave you a little sedative, just enough to make you more cooperative.”

  Son of a bitch. Done in by my own dirty trick.

  She pulled the gun from her pocket, but it felt so heavy in her hand, like a boulder. It took so much effort. Her vision blurred, and suddenly there seemed to be dozens of him, all moving very slowly toward her. “Stay away!” she warned.

  “I suggest you put the gun down. We don’t want anything unfortunate to happen.”

  “Funny, I had something unfortunate in mind,” she slurred. But the pistol slipped from her fingers, landing on the couch harmlessly.

  Daisy tumbled into darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Where the hell is she?

  Cowboy called Daisy’s number, again. He’d left three voicemails, texted her half a dozen times, and hadn’t gotten a response. He was verging on needy chick territory. When he’d arrived back at the hotel, he’d noticed her car was gone and figured she’d gone out to run a few errands, but when she hadn’t come home in several hours, he started worry.

  Then, Cowboy went on a wild goose chase trying to find her.

  Daisy mentioned she’d be having coffee with Eddie. So, he’d given Eddie a call, only to discover Daisy had also been questioned by Frost, and he feared they’d taken her in for further questioning, or just arrested her outright. However, when he’d checked with the sheriff’s office, Frost said she wasn’t there, and then he’d asked if she’d gone missing. Cowboy had evaded the question, and hung up.

  Then, he’d called Shep, because Eddie had mentioned he also spoke with Daisy. The VP said she went to follow up on the necklace, but he couldn’t imagine it would be a dangerous errand. When he called the jewelry store, it was closed.

  As it neared ten o’clock, Cowboy started to panic.

  What if the Raptors grabbed her? What if she’d been in a car accident? His mind raced with half a dozen possibilities, none of them good. He finally texted all his brothers, to see if anyone else knew anything about her whereabouts. Duke texted back immediately and Cowboy literally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the message.

  Duke: Don’t worry, brother. I know exactly where she is.

  ***

  Daisy woke to find herself tied to a wrought iron bed.

  She’d been propped up on a couple of pillows, and her arms were manacled to the headboard, ankles cuffed to the footboard. She struggled against her bonds, but had no hope of getting loose. They were heavy prison-type shackles.

  Fearfully, she glanced down at herself, but she was still dressed. Thank God.

  She scanned the room, trying to get a feel for her surroundings. She didn’t know what to make of it exactly. Part torture chamber, part bordello? Along the wall, hanging on peg boards, were paddles, gags, blindfolds, and some other forbidding-looking sex toys she’d never seen before.

  Oh hell no!

  Next to the bed, a chair made with a built-in dildo, which poked obscenely through the crushed velvet seat. At the far end of the room, a steel contraption with several Velcro restrains, presumably so a person could be moved into all sorts of different sexual positions. And the worst, a freaking metal cage.

  Yeah, a cage. What the fuck?!

  Why did she chase the Kent lead down by herself? Why hadn’t she told Cowboy where she was going? Because you thought you could lone this wolf one. Shit. This whole thing was FUBAR – fucked up beyond all recognition.

  “Well, hello there, sleeping beauty. I was beginning to think I gave you too much sedative. You’ve been out for hours.”

  At the sound of Kent’s voice, she startled, but she quickly covered the fear with some sarcasm. “Nice sex dungeon,” she said snidely. “Did the decorator do this room, too?”

  He arched a brow, but didn’t answer. He rounded the bed and sat down, his hip brushing hers, and she quickly scooted away, but the bonds didn’t allow her to get very far.

  “My men already disarmed you,” he informed her conversationally. “I must say you had quite the arsenal—a gun, as well as a switchblade. And, of course your cell.”

  He slid the phone from his pocket. “You really should get a better network. Half the time, it reads service unavailable, but you had a couple of bars for a while and someone named Cowboy certainly wants to get in touch with you.” He pursed his lips as he read the message, evidently scrolled through them. “Who’s Cowboy?”

  “My partner. The one who’s going to shoot your ass, when he comes looking for me.”

  He laughed. “It doesn’t matter who he is. Cowboy won’t be seeing you anymore.” He slid the phone into a glass of water on the nightstand, effectively killing it.

  Well, fanfuckingtastic.

  “Are you going to turn me over to the Raptors?” Her eyes strayed to the all of the, er, equipment, for lack of a better term. “Unless you’ve got something more disturbing in mind?”

  He ignored the last bit. “Of course I’m not going to hand you over to them!” Kent seemed shocked by the very suggestion. “I’m trying to save you, the way I saved your sister.”

  What?! Rose?

  She could scarcely believe her own ears. “Oh my God,” she breathed. “You have Rose?”

  “Yes, she’s in the other room,” he said smoothly.

  The relief evaporated, replaced by a mixture of disgust and fury.

  What if this freak had done things to her? Judging by this room, he had some pretty warped desires. “And is she,” she began, nearly unable to get the words out. “Did you…?” He’d said she was in the other room, but was she still alive?

  He patted her arm as though they were having a friendly little chat. “She’s absolutely fine, I assure you. You’ll see her in a moment. Rose has been busy, packing our things.” He reached towards her face and she reared back, but there was nowhere to go. He smoothed her cheek with the back of her hand.

  For a moment, she thought about trying to bite him, but his voice stopped her. “No, don’t do that, Gol
dilocks. I know you’re a spirited girl. I will have to put some effort into controlling you, but if you hurt me? I will have to bring you pain.”

  Focus! “You said you were going somewhere?” Any information might prove useful.

  “No, we’re going somewhere, all three of us. I’m afraid you stirred up a bit of trouble with the club. Honestly, what were you thinking?” he said, as though she’d been a naughty child. “Working for both the Horsemen and the Raptors?”

  She might have pissed the Raptors off, but they still didn’t know about the Horsemen’s involvement. She intended to keep the secret, no matter what. She wouldn’t let this mess land on the club.

  “I’m not—”

  “Shh. I haven’t made my rules clear yet, but lying is another one of those offenses which will only bring you pain. For your sake, never lie to me.”

  Enough with the rules. “You’ve been following me,” she guessed.

  “Yes, since I saw you the first night on stage,” he said, beaming at her. “I know you didn’t belong in that horrible place and you bore such a striking resemblance to your sister, I had to find out more about you.”

  “And you didn’t tell the Raptors about me?”

  “If they were too dimwitted to notice, I certainly wasn’t going to bring you to their attention. After all, I have plans for you.”

  She changed the topic to what she really cared about. “Let me see Rose,” she demanded.

  His lips curved into a twisted little smile. “Ask me nicely.”

  She didn’t have time for placating looney tunes, but she would play along if she got to see Rose. It had been months! “Please, can I see my sister?”

  “Good girl. Of course you can.” He snapped his fingers, like calling for a pet. “Come here, Rose,” he called.

  Footsteps sounded down the hall.

  And then Ro appeared in the doorway. Oh God. Daisy sucked in a ragged breath. Rose was alive and here!

  But she had her head bowed and wore something out of a Stepford Wife porn fantasy— white lacy thigh highs, long white gloves on her arms, a snowy merry widow, with matching lacy panties, and around her throat, a pearl choker.