Tied

by KB Winters

  “Whoring yourself up for your new husband?”

  I nodded with a smile. “He has no problem getting me all hot, wet, and ready.”

  The knife slipped under the bra and sliced through the fabric easily, revealing my tits to every set of eyeballs in the room. Including my father’s.

  “Now boys, ain’t that a fine set of titties?”

  Agreement went up all around, and if I gave a damn about it, I might have felt flattered instead of repulsed.

  “Great, now all my dreams have come true.”

  “Shut your fucking mouth before I let all my boys have a go at you. Would your precious man still want you after that?”

  Probably not, but I kept my mouth shut because the old man was serious now.

  “That’s what I thought.” He tugged at the snap on my jeans until it gave and tugged on my zipper, a move that didn’t require a fucking psychic to know what was coming next.

  His henchman stood a few feet back, but his gaze never left my tits, and it was impossible to ignore the boner he sported. Or the machine gun draped across one shoulder. When he licked his lips I turned away, but it was the wrong fucking way because my gaze landed on Homer who looked tortured and ashamed, more emotional than I had ever seen him.

  The agony on his face served as the perfect distraction when Eugene’s old wrinkled fingers slipped between my panties and my pussy, his crusty old fingertips dangerously close to my clit.

  “No!” The word came out automatically, as if even my body was disgusted by this piece of shit.

  “Oh come on now, Hennessy. You already gave it up to that filthy fucking biker. Now you’re too good for me?”

  His words were angry and his jerky movements matched, two fingers plunged deep into my pussy without regard for my own readiness.

  My legs kicked out, and one hit the old man and sent him staggering back and right into the arms of his henchman.

  “I said no, you rapist piece of dog shit!”

  The henchman jumped between us as if I could go anywhere with my arms handcuffed to a fucking wall.

  “You okay, Boss?”

  “Help me up,” Eugene shouted angrily, looking around to make sure none of his men saw that moment of weakness, or worse, thought to exploit it at the wrong moment.

  “Get this bitch down on her knees where she fucking belongs!”

  Oh, he was good and pissed off now, and I was in trouble.

  Reality had set in, fast and cold, and tears silently streamed down my cheeks. The henchman ignored my emotions as he loosened one side of the cuffs and unlatched me from the wall.

  “If you try to run, I’ll shoot you. If you hurt the boss, I will shoot you.”

  “Might as well fucking shoot me now and get it over with.” Because if that old fuck thought I would put his wrinkly old cock in my mouth, his brain was worse off than I thought.

  He laughed. “Tempting, but not until the time is right.” One meaty hand landed on my shoulder and shoved me down until I was on my knees.

  “Here you go, Boss.”

  Eugene waved him off and stood, looming over me like the shadow of a man he was, a dark smile lighting up his face.

  “Since you want to act like a stupid, worthless whore, that’s how I’ll treat you.”

  He reached forward and grabbed a handful of my hair.

  “Go on and do what whores do. Suck it!”

  His hips jerked forward while his flaccid cock waved around my face, silver hairs brittle and bent in all directions threatening to poke out an eye. Maybe two.

  I did my best to keep my mouth shut, a difficult task for a mouthy chick like me, but desperate times and all that. Left and then right, I jerked my head even as Eugene pulled harder and harder.

  One hand landed across my cheek again. “Open your fucking mouth.”

  I shook my head in defiance, knowing this was a dangerous game but also knowing I couldn’t give in. Not now. Not on this.

  “All right then. Let’s do it your way.” He produced a handgun and pressed it to the middle of my forehead. “I said, open the fuck up. And I better not feel any fucking teeth.”

  Knowing I was beat, I did what he said, ignoring the evil smile on his face.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Cruz

  “We can count on this fucker having a lot of men,” Gunnar was saying when Holden and I returned from the armory with two trucks loaded up with all the fire power we could possibly need.

  “Peaches, tell the guys what you found.”

  Peaches didn’t bother to stand, smiling as she rocked Stone to sleep in her arms.

  “McArthur isn’t some rinky-dink crime boss. That’s the bad news. He’s the head of the second largest Irish crime family on the east coast.”

  “Last I checked, this wasn’t the fucking east coast,” Slayer added with a bite to his words. “If he’s so badass, why are they using a fucking broke down warehouse to keep her? A motel would be less conspicuous.”

  Gunnar nodded and turned his attention to Saint.

  “What else did you find?”

  “At least a dozen men on the outside, protecting the building and the perimeter. My guess is there are at least double that amount on the inside. The place is big as fuck, though.”

  Saint raked a hand through his dark hair and blew out a breath. “Who the fuck knows where they’re holding her.”

  His gaze looked around the room and I knew exactly what he saw. Not enough fucking men to go head to head with Eugene McArthur.

  “We sure this is where Hennessy is?” Holden’s deep voice asked the question none of the rest of us had the balls to ask.

  “Yeah, are we sure? I can’t go in there, guns blazing and find it’s the wrong fucking place.”

  The idea of it made me sick to my fucking stomach, storming the property and finding Hennessy wasn’t there, or worse, was already gone. Shipped off to parts unknown.

  “I can give you the only certainty I can,” Peaches said and handed my phone to Slayer who handed it to me. “Call her.”

  I stared at the phone like it was a bomb, but I knew it had to be done. I dialed, grinning when the same asshole picked up the phone.

  “Better hurry up asshole, your whore is about to drown in some jizz when my boys finish running this train on her.” He laughed again and hung up.

  “That motherfucker is dead!”

  Gunnar smacked the kitchen table and stood. “All right everyone, get your shit together. We’re out of here in five.”

  I frowned. “Five? You said stealth was how we should do this.”

  “Yeah, that was before these fuckers threatened to rape your woman. Come on. Everybody and that means you too, Ford.”

  Rape. The word bounced around in my head until fire pumped through my veins. White hot fire that fueled an even hotter rage that burned my insides, my flesh, and my hair as I stared out the window on Route 9, watching the Texas sky at night fly by. McArthur and his men could have put Hennessy through any number of horrors, I just hoped she could fucking recover from them.

  This was some heavy shit for a woman to go through.

  We parked across the street from the old property, hiding our bikes and trucks among the overgrown brush and the tall trees that needed some maintenance. It took us a few minutes before we got our shit together, sending Ford and Slayer to double check the numbers. I should have been right up there in the front with my brothers, but I was too close. Too fucking emotional to do anything but bash some heads and go get my woman.

  “Nine down on the perimeter,” Slayer mumbled into the comms. “Three unaccounted for.”

  “One,” Saint corrected, out of breath. “Come in on the west side of the building, away from the freeway.”

  In just over a minute we all gathered at the nearest entry point where Slayer and Saint waited for us. Ford was on backup with orders to shoot anyone not a member of the Reckless Bastards, or Hennessy.

  “Breach in sixty,” Gunnar said and sent Saint, Holden
and Wheeler around to the other exit point while me, him and Slayer got into position.

  Fifty-five seconds later the lights went out. Five seconds later, we stormed inside the dark building and broke it up in a grid pattern, clearing every room of any live obstacles before we moved on.

  “Gunnar, down!” He ducked without clarification and it saved his life as I put two bullets into a blond with an Uzi.

  “Thanks, man.”

  “Clear!” Slayer was several rooms ahead, and I hurried to catch up, eager to find Hennessy. My heart thundered behind my chest as everything moved at half-speed.

  “Listen to that.”

  I closed my eyes and listened. It was the sound of chaos which meant McArthur’s men knew we were here.

  “We have to hurry.”

  Gunnar nodded and took off first. “I’ll cover you both. Go now!”

  We cleared another long hall as gunfire sounded on the other side of the building. Long-ago forgotten backup generators provided extra light in corners as we drew closer to the shouts. No, the screams.

  A woman’s screams.

  “Hennessy!”

  I took off at a dead sprint, my only focus getting to Hennessy and making the fucking scream top.

  “Hennessy, I’m coming!”

  “Stop!”

  Gunnar’s voice was proof that no solider every really forgot their training. My feet stopped, and I turned to him, pissed off but waiting with barely restrained patience.

  “You go through that door without backup and you’re dead. How’s that gonna help your girl?”

  Slayer clapped me on the shoulder. “We got your back. I’ll go in first and lay down cover fire while I search for Hennessy. You come in next and find her. Gunnar will cover you. Right?”

  Gunnar nodded his agreement. “On your count, Slayer.”

  The next few seconds unraveled in slow motion as Slayer kicked in the door and put five bullets inside the two men guarding the door. I moved in next, shooting moving men while I scanned the large cavernous room for Hennessy.

  “No!” Her scream sounded near the back, and I crouched low and made my way to her, picking off whoever tried to stand in my way.

  “Hennessy!”

  She was screaming and crying as if her life was in danger, and when I got closer, I could see why. That old fucker, Eugene fucking McArthur had Hennessy, my fucking Hennessy, with her tits bared for all to see, his hands and mouth having a good time with her tits.

  In three steps, I was at Hennessy’s side with one hand wrapped around that motherfucker’s throat and a gun aimed at his forehead.

  “Shoot this motherfucker!” He cried out. His frail body shook with indignation and he continued to shout his outrage into the room.

  “Not so fun when you don’t have your thugs at your side, is it?”

  I whispered the words in his ear just to make sure that fucker knew how close I was to him.

  “You’re a dead man,” he whined.

  “Wrong answer.” I cracked him in the head with the butt of the gun until he went down to his knees.

  “You all right, Hen?”

  She nodded, breathless, as a smile tried to form on her lips. “Uhm…” Her words turned to tears, and Hennessy buried her head in her hands.

  McArthur laughed, and I lost it, forgetting about Hennessy completely as I let my fists fly into his face, his body. Pretty much anywhere guaranteed to cause him as much pain as humanly possible before I shot the motherfucker.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Hennessy

  Never in my entire life had I ever been so happy to see another human being. At least not that I could remember. But what would remain forever etched into my memory was the sight of Cruz stalking toward me with murderous rage in his black eyes, big hands flexing in preparation to do maximum damage. As much as I hated that he had to see me like this, being treated like trash with my body exposed for all to see, my body, my heart, and even my brain rejoiced at the sight of him.

  My body continued to rage against Eugene’s touch, his cold, paper-thin skin, his thin, chapped lips against my nipple. I wasn’t sure enough hot water existed to make me clean again, but still my body fought against his assault.

  I heard my name but my eyes slammed shut against his touch, at least until I felt him let go of my nipple. Cruz held Eugene by the throat with one hand, glaring at him hard enough to stop the old fuck’s heart. His breathing was ragged, his eyes full of black rage, and he produced a gun and aimed it at Eugene’s head, whispering something in his ear that made Eugene crazed with anger.

  There was so much gunfire, so many flashes of light that I couldn’t hear anything. I could barely see what was happening right in front of me, but I watched, nearly transfixed or maybe it was shock, by the sight of Cruz pounding his fists into Eugene’s face.

  I should have felt horrified to see him beating the shit out of an old man, but the old dude had it coming, and to be honest, seeing Cruz’s reaction to what he’d seen meant he cared. It meant I mattered to him, and for some reason that mattered to me.

  “Ready to get the fuck outta here?”

  Gunnar didn’t wait for an answer, leaning over my cuffs. “We’ll get those off as soon as we can. You good?”

  I gave a sharp nod, glancing just past Gunnar to Cruz still raining his fists down on Eugene. The sorry old dude barely put up a fight.

  “I can make it out of here,” I said to Gunnar. My gaze went to Cruz once again.

  Gunnar’s lips twisted into a smirk. “Cruz will be fine. We’ll make sure of it.”

  I gave another nod. “Okay. Let’s go, wait…where’s Homer?”

  “Homer?”

  “My dad. The reason I’m in this mess,” I shouted over the gunfire.

  “There!” Homer was completely out of it, which left a knot of worry in my gut because, apparently, I still gave a shit about him. He was my dad ,and that seemed harder to shake than a nicotine habit.

  Gunnar pushed me behind him and turned to Slayer.

  “Grab that old man.”

  I couldn’t see Slayer’s response because Gunnar’s massive frame shielded me from everything. When he turned those big steely blue eyes on me, I had to resist the urge to take a step back. He was intimidating as fuck, but Gunnar was no threat. His gaze raked over my body, and suddenly I wasn’t so sure. Then he yanked his t-shirt over his head and tugged it over my nakedness.

  “There. Come on.” He pulled me a foot and stopped again. “Don’t take your hand off me,” he said as he put one of my hands on his belt, “and stay by my side unless I tell you to run.”

  I nodded even as Gunnar turned and started to walk, certain I’d follow his orders.

  I try to look around, but it wasn’t just Gunnar’s massive back that blocked my view. It was the darkness the whole place had been plunged in a few minutes ago, lit up rapidly by the nonstop gunfire going off all around me. I couldn’t walk with my eyes closed, so I couldn’t help but notice the dead bodies and lifeless eyes, the blood everywhere, permeating the air with a coppery scent that did not mix well with gunpowder.

  The door was just a few feet away, the path clear now that Gunnar had put three shots into the armed man with the automatic weapon aimed at us. I chanced a look back at Cruz, still pounding Eugene even as someone tried to pull him off. They fought, Cruz and another man I didn’t recognize. Another man joined in, punching him in the back.

  I yelled, “Cruz!”

  Gunnar yanked me forward. “Cruz will be fine,” he barked and dragged me the last few feet out of the stuffy building and out into the fresh Texas night air.

  “Get Cruz the fuck outta there,” he yelled at someone, though there was no one around us, and I was too exhausted, too terrified to ask more.

  “Slow down your breathing so you don’t hyperventilate.” He breathed in and out until I followed along, keeping each breath slow and steady.

  “Good.”

  My breathing was starting to get back to something rese
mbling normal when another wave of gunfire erupted inside the building, which from the outside, looked like some kind of warehouse or factory. At least seven, maybe eight gunshots rang out, echoing on the silent night and inside the mostly empty building.

  Immediately, my eyes went to my surroundings, doing a mental head count, even though I already knew who wasn’t here yet. Gunnar was by my side, his scowl going to each of his men. Saint and Holden came around one side of the building, guns in hand and gazes never still.

  Wheeler appeared next, a cut marring his handsome face, but he didn’t seem to notice as his gaze went to Gunnar, silently communicating something I didn’t understand. Next, Slayer strutted out, hair blowing in the wind thanks to his lazy long-legged gait, wide eyes and a slightly crazed smile that said he flourished in times like these.

  A moment later I noticed something, or rather someone else at Slayer’s side. Homer. He was barely hanging on to the man in his nearly unconscious state and the truth was, Slayer carried him out.

  “Shit,” I muttered. As much as I hated the man, I didn’t want to see him like that. I tried to stand, to go to him even though there was fuck all I could do to help, but my legs wouldn’t work. “Fuck.”

  “Stay here,” Gunnar barked, his voice firm but not menacing. I might have been offended if my body was cooperating and movement was possible.

  I sat where I was, legs bent so my knees rested under my chin, Gunnar’s t-shirt covering every bare inch of flesh aside from my face and arms, gazed fixed on the only door I could see. Waiting for Cruz to appear.

  Any moment he would appear.

  He had to.

  I waited what felt like an eternity for Cruz to come out, willing him to appear in the door. On his hands or he knees, I didn’t give a shit as long as he was there. Alive. Flashing that cocky smile. Somehow, I managed to make it to my feet, but pacing was out of the question so I wrapped my arms around myself.

  “Come on, Cruz. Come out.” He had to be all right. Nothing would be okay ever again if he wasn’t all right. I couldn’t let Cruz get hurt—or worse—fighting a battle that wasn’t even his.