I chuckled at Ryder’s fucked up A Christmas Story reference. “I got this.” I grabbed a cleaver from the kitchen counter—how convenient that it was just sitting there for me to play with. I pulled back and didn’t even consider stopping myself. I chopped off the side of his left hand, taking the thumb with it.
A bone-chilling wail leapt from the man’s throat and he started to thrash around. “What the fuck? You all are going to fucking pay for this. Fucking cock-sucking pieces of donkey shit.” Sweat and tears started rolling down his face as he continued to cuss and whip around. Blood sprayed all over the linoleum floor.
“Shut the fuck up,” Jesse hissed, punching the guy in the stomach.
I spit in his face. “This is for Abel.” I put the dude’s thumb into his mouth. “Stop crying. Here, suck on this, you fucking baby.”
“Who the fuck is Abel?” he mumbled the best he could with his mouth full. He tried to spit his digit out of his mouth but I slammed it shut so Ryder could duct tape his jaw.
Holt grabbed the cleaver from my hand, slashing the top of our hostage’s thigh as deep as he could get the blade. “He was our president and you shot him in the back of the fucking head like a goddamn coward. You’re a woman beater, a kidnapper, a murderer. You’re going to have to pay for what you did.”
Ryder took his camo Gerber pocketknife out of his back pocket and slowly carved the words king killer and woman beater into his chest in big block letting. Line by line, he slid his blade over the man’s flesh, fileting the message in deep. In that moment, I started to heal. As fucked up as it was, I was finally starting to feel at peace with what had happened to Abel. Revenge was so fucking sweet.
“Holt, will you do the honors?” I asked, handing him the serrated bread knife I had brought with us.
“Gladly.” He looked the fucker right in the eye as he slowly started to saw his balls off. The shrill that emanated from his panic was music to my ears as his manhood was stripped from him.
I put the severed testicles into a plastic bag then gave them to Ryder. “I think this is going to be the perfect present for our fucking friends.”
Chapter 2
Sloan
A Couple Weeks Later
The three flights of stairs up to my apartment always felt never-ending after a long night shift at the hospital. I loved being an emergency room nurse, but the long hours of being on my feet all night, running around like a chicken with my head cut off were starting to really wear on me.
Finally, I trudged up the final couple of steps, huffing and puffing. I bent down to retrieve a small box that sat on the welcome mat next to my front door before going inside. Victorious was an understatement for how excited I was about making it all the way up to my place. I threw my bag and the box down on the coffee table.
I stripped down right there in my living room, threw my white sneakers to the side, and left my teal scrubs wadded up in the middle of the floor. I lived alone—who the fuck was going to care?
Being naked in my place was so freeing for some reason. It wasn’t like I was a nudist or anything—I still had on my thong and bra—I just didn’t want to be restricted by work clothes one more minute than necessary. It was nine in the morning and I was walking around my apartment exposed, fixing to fill up a giant glass of wine, and sink into a tub filled with lilac bubbles.
With a full-to-the-brim glass of pinot grigio, I sank down onto the couch to open the box. I dug my keys out of my purse and sliced open the tape. The smell was what hit me first, then I saw the blood that was everywhere. In the small white box was a poorly wrapped head of a dead cat. I threw the package across the room and rushed to the kitchen sink. Hurling into the stainless steel, my mind started racing.
How did he find me again?
Why is this happening to me?
Why won’t he leave me alone?
I thought about calling the police, but I knew they wouldn’t be able to do anything more than what had already been done. I rushed into my bedroom and grabbed the bag under my bed. I got dressed in shorts and an old tank top before I emptied my drawers into the duffel. After doing the same with everything essential in the bathroom, I ran out the door. Ray Clyde was about to run me out of yet another home, but I didn’t know what else to do. I peeled out of my parking spot as fast as I could and just started driving.
I hated that I was leaving Boston. I had really started to enjoy it, especially since I was finally beginning to know the city and make some friends. I had finally found a good job that I loved, and now that was all flying out the window. Oh well—it was better to be running again than fucking dead.
I threw my cellphone out the window when I was a few miles down the highway. I knew I needed to check my car for wires, but I needed to get some distance between me and the city before I could calm down enough to do a thorough sweep.
“Fucking bullshit!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as I slammed my fists into the steering wheel. Tears of rage cascaded down as I fought to be able to see the road. Thankfully it was the middle of the morning and most of the traffic had died down.
I had no plan, and barely any money left. Where was I going to be able to go to finally be rid of my scum-of-the-earth, crazy, stalker of an ex-boyfriend? The image of the cat head in the box haunted me as I sped down the interstate. At least it wasn’t a dead dove like the last time—doves were my favorite. He knew animals were my weakness, and it seemed he was slowly going to send me corpses of every damn critter on the fucking planet.
I drove for over twelve hours. Even though my body was crashing, my adrenaline was keeping me going. I was in North Carolina, winding through some of the most breathtaking mountains and foothills I had ever seen.
My head started to bob as the tiredness took over. I strained to read the sign in front of me: Vilas – 5 miles. I could make it five miles. I started to slap my cheeks lightly, blasted the cold air, cranked up the radio, and bounced in my seat. I was coming in on fumes, but I made it. I pulled off into the gravel parking lot of what looked to be a biker bar. I didn’t care where the fuck I was—I just needed to sleep. I put my car in park, grabbed my sweatshirt from the back seat, reclined my chair, and dozed off.
A light tapping on my window woke me up. The sun was shining bright as I forced my stinging eyes to open.
“Ma’am? You all right?” a pregnant woman called through the glass. She had a sweet smile and kind eyes.
I rolled down my window, squinting from the sunlight. “Yeah, just had to pull off the highway last night before I fell asleep while driving.”
“How about you come on inside and grab a bite to eat before you head back on the road? You look like you could use a good, hot meal.”
I couldn’t argue with her; my stomach felt hollow. “Yeah, all right.”
I followed her into the bar after she unlocked the front door. “It’ll only be a few minutes for me to open up and everything. Why don’t you just take a seat and look at the menu while I run into the back real quick?”
“Thank you.” I did as she instructed. I stared down at the laminated page, not reading a damn word. I was still in shock that I was in the middle of the mountains in North Carolina because of my damn douche canoe of an ex. What a fucking joke.
“So, where are you headed?” she asked, making her way behind the bar.
I shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Just not back to where I came from.”
“Well, Vilas is a town filled with people running toward things and away from them. I’m Raine.”
She offered me her hand. Shaking it, I replied, “I’m Sloan.”
“It’s nice to meet you. There’s a motel right up the road if you need to crash somewhere other than your car for a night or two while you’re trying to figure out what the hell you’re going to do. It’s cheap and a bit dodgy, but it’s the only one in town.” She filled a glass with ice and water, setting it down on a coaster in front of me.
“Thanks. I’ll think about it.” The water tasted better than anythin
g I’d ever had in my life—probably because I hadn’t had anything to drink or eat since the previous morning.
I chugged down two glasses of water and ordered a cheeseburger with a fried egg on top. It seemed so odd to me that someone as sweet as Raine was working behind the bar of such a dump.
She set my food down in front of me with a caddy full of condiments. “Enjoy,” she stated with a kind smile.
“What time is it?” I asked. It was odd that I didn’t have my phone. Moments like that really showed me how dependent our society had become on technology.
Raine glanced over at the bar’s register. “Almost noon.”
I ran my fingers through my long greasy hair. I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, but it was definitely at least twelve hours. Even so, my body was still exhausted. I knew I needed to set a game plan before I made any other moves, and I still needed to check my car for tracking devices and wires.
After I’d taken a couple of delicious bites of my messy burger, a few men wearing leather vests walked in. I had only seen bikers on TV and in the movies, and I would have been a liar if I didn’t admit that it was thrilling to see them in person.
Two of the men sat at the far side of the bar while the third walked around the back. It was adorable how much Raine’s face lit up when the guy scooped her into his arms and kissed her. Now it made sense why she was working there—she was part of their lifestyle.
Raine walked down the bar, hand in hand with her guy. “Sloan, this is my husband, Ryder.”
They were a young couple and seemed so much in love. It radiated from them in the simplest of ways—the way he touched her, the way she smiled at him, the way he glanced at her when she wasn’t looking.
We shook hands. “It’s a pleasure, darlin’. Raine says you’re just passing through, but if you need anything while you’re in town, we’d be more than happy to help.”
I bit my lip. Why are these people being so kind to me? It’s so sad that when people are actually being genuinely nice and trying to help out a stranger, the first reaction is to question their motives. I had always thought one-percenters were scumbag vigilantes who treated women like shit and had a total disregard for the law. In only minutes, this couple was proving my assumptions to be wrong.
“Nice to meet you. Could I actually get directions to that motel? I think having a home base for a day or two would be smart.” Right as Ryder was about to explain how to get to my destination, one of the other members walked up behind me.
“I’m headin’ in that direction, I could point it out to you on my way.” He was tall, big—not in a bad way, just muscular and wide—and had stunning ice blue eyes and a smile that could melt any girl’s panties on the spot.
Get a grip. You’re already running from one psycho of an ex.
“That’d be great.” I threw some money down on the wooden bar top. Turning to Raine, I thanked her for everything. “I really do appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it. You know where I’ll be most of the day if you decide to come back in for dinner or something. It’s not often we get women in here, and it’s kind of nice to not be the only set of tits in this place.” She giggled as Ryder eyed her for a second.
“You’re not a set of tits, babe, even though this pregnancy thing really has them looking nice these days.”
She hit her husband in the shoulder before waving goodbye to me.
“Ready?” the other member asked.
As I started to follow Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick out of the bar, he turned to me. “I’m Trent, by the way.”
I walked through the door he was holding for me. “I’m Sloan.”
Chapter 3
Trent
It wasn’t every day that a gorgeous woman who ten of my brothers hadn’t railed at some point walked into the bar. I was really getting tired of the damn cut sluts who just wanted to lick the tip of a biker’s dick. It was like a badge of honor to them, and it repulsed me.
Don’t get me wrong, I did fall prey to my primal desires from time to time—what guy wouldn’t? I just didn’t want to continue on that path forever.
I walked a few paces behind Sloan as she made her way over to her beat-up Camry. Red spray paint was faded on the side of the white car. I could tell she had done her best to get the profanity off, but the word whore could be made out if you looked close enough. I didn’t want to call attention to it, but I couldn’t let this poor woman drive around like that. I thought about it for a second and decided that keeping my mouth shut about the paint was just not going to happen.
“Hey, what do you have planned the next couple of days?” I asked while trotting up next to her to open the driver’s door for her.
“Putting as many more miles between me and Boston as I possibly can.” Her tone was flat as she rolled her eyes.
I held on to the door once she got in, racking my brain for a good reason to get her car to our shop. I didn’t have one, so I just spit out what was on my mind. “I’ll repaint your car if you don’t mind sticking around these parts for the rest of the week. I’m a mechanic over at a garage about a mile away. We have some really talented body work guys.”
“Thanks, but I have been dealing with this for over a year now. I don’t even notice it anymore. Besides, I don’t have that kind of money right now.” She pulled on the door handle; apparently our conversation had come to an end.
I didn’t want to push her too much. I hopped on my bike, made the two turns toward the motel, and drove into the parking lot. I waited for her to pull in and walk into the office. She didn’t wave, didn’t even acknowledge me, not so much as a thank you. For some reason, that made me want to know her more. There was something so dark and troubling in her, a storm brewing deep down. It felt like she needed rescuing, and I recognized it because it mirrored the tempest within me.
After being at the garage for a few hours, I still couldn’t get Sloan out of my mind. I had barely gotten three oil changes done by the time Red came in from lunch with bright yellow mustard in the whiskers at the corners of his mouth.
“Slacking off today, kid.” He rolled his eyes, picking his teeth with the side of a business card.
“Just a little fogged today, brother. I’ll pick up the pace.” I wiped the sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand before diving back under an Chevy Silverado to get the air filter off.
“It’s that random broad, isn’t it? The one that was at the bar a bit ago?” Red knew me all too well. He spit on the ground next to my feet as he slouched into a folding chair.
I rolled back out to grab another tool. “Yeah, man. There’s something about her. I can’t quite put my finger on it.”
He let out a forced laugh. “There’s always something about everyone with you, Tre. She was a hot little filly, though.”
“Yeah, she is pretty. It’s not just that. She seems different than the shallow bar flies that buzz around this place.” The need to defend Sloan was consuming and compelling.
“I guess, but be careful. They all turn into whores at some point. Look at me and my old lady—she won’t even give me the time of fucking day. My daughter ain’t even talking to me right now.”
Bitter old man. “Once I’m done here, will you help me with something?” I had a plan. No one was going to like it, but it was going to work. Well, I needed it to work, anyway.
“Fuck it. Why not?” He threw another pinch of Red Man in the back of his jaw before offering the bag to me. I declined; chew had never been my thing. I loved smoking cigarettes but had kicked the habit when I dried out. Being an ex-junkie put a label on my back in the club. I still drank, but never as much as the guys thought I did. Without maintaining control, I was worried I would fall back down the rabbit hole. That was something I refused to ever let happen again.
I finished up with the truck’s oil change and stood to stretch out my back. “You ready, brother?”
Red nodded, setting his reading glasses on the desk. He had been slaving away doing invoicing all damn da
y and was due for a little ride. I hopped into the driver’s seat of the tow truck and Red slid into the passenger’s side.
“We don’t have any pickups or repos today, do we?” he asked, rolling down the window to spit.
“This is a favor I’m doing, kind of a surprise thing.” I gripped the steering wheel tight as I pulled out of the lot.
“We’re not stealing a vehicle, are we?” His eyes were wide as we drove down the road toward the motel.
“Fuck no,” I answered, a little offended that he would think that I would steal a car. “We’re going to pick up that chick’s car. It needs a fresh coat of paint.”
Red shifted in his seat to look at me better. “Does she know you’re picking up her car?”
I rubbed the back of my freshly buzzed head. “Not exactly.”
Red threw his hands in the air. “Fuck, Tre. Ryder is going to have a field day with our asses if this chick causes a scene.”
“I’ll deal with Ryder if anything comes of this.”
Her car was right where I’d seen her park it. I knew we needed to make quick work of this.
Red just sat in his seat staring at me, his jaw hanging open a bit.
I threw the truck into reverse and glared at him. “You going to fucking help me or just sit there with your thumb up your damn ass?”
He grunted, “Fine.”
It only took a couple of minutes to get the car up onto the flatbed. I was surprised no one came out of the rooms to check to see why a tow truck was in the parking lot, but that was better for me. I was sweating bullets driving back to the shop. I knew what I was doing was wrong in a way. Yes, I’d taken a complete stranger’s car without asking, but it was for a good reason. I was being a good Samaritan.
It didn’t take long for us to get the car back to the garage and hidden in the back of bay. Even though I didn’t care who knew I had the car, it was technically stolen, and Sloan could make my life a living hell if she called the cops.
The Unacceptables Series Box Set Page 25
