Rock's Redemption: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 8)

by Chiah Wilder

  “You want us to give you a full-body massage?” Wendy cupped his crotch and squeezed suggestively.

  “I’m good. There’s some stuff I have to do. I’ll catch you later. Thanks, ladies.” He bent over and kissed Wendy quickly on the lips, then craned his neck and nipped Rosie’s cheek. The two women returned to their chairs and resumed thumbing through their magazines. He went up to his room and grabbed a small bag, throwing in his toiletries and a couple of T-shirts and changes of underwear. He’d have to stake out the house for a few days to get the feel of Frederick and the staff’s routine. He wanted to make sure he had time to talk with Clotille and take her out of there if that was what she decided.

  He sat on the chair and looked out at the dirt road that led up to the thirty-foot chain-linked fence which surrounded the clubhouse. It ended on the edge of the two-lane highway that was a black ribbon wrapping around the mountains. When dust clouds obscured his view, he knew the babysitting brigade was back from their gig. Rising up, he left his room to meet them as they came into the club.

  Rock stood against the bar as the men entered. Throttle threw him a wide grin and headed in his direction, followed by Bones and Wheelie. “What the fuck happened today?” Throttle asked as he picked up the shot of Jack the prospect placed on the bar.

  “I was ready to beat the shit outta that motherfucking asshole. That’s all.”

  Bones and Wheelie joined Throttle in guffawing. “I’d have loved to have seen that,” Bones said between gasps for air. “That dude has such a big stick up his ass.”

  “I’m surprised you’re back so early.” Rock put his beer bottle to his lips.

  “I think you pissed the dude off big time. Not too long after you left, the other guys took off.” Wheelie settled on the barstool.

  Rock’s stomach churned when he thought of how Frederick would make Clotille pay for talking with him. He’d been careless and selfish in his haste to see the woman who’d held his interest since the dinner party. He hadn’t considered what would happen to her if the fuckwad caught her talking with him. And now that she was Clotille, the thought of any harm coming to her made his anger burn.

  “The arrogant fucker made sure to tell us that you’re not allowed on his property anymore. Hell, we decided we’re gonna tell Banger the next time the asshole needs us, he’s gonna have to find someone to replace us. We’re done with this shit.” Throttle motioned Puck for another shot. The rest of the guys came over, mouthing their agreement with Throttle.

  Rock nodded and touched fists with several of the brothers. There’s no way in hell that fucker’s gonna keep me away until I hear Clotille tell me face-to-face without him around. After a couple games of pool, Rock went to Banger’s office and knocked on the door, opening it when he heard his president’s voice.

  Banger was slipping on his jacket and shoving his phone in its pocket when Rock walked in. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asked.

  Banger glanced at the clock on the wall. “If it won’t take too long. I was supposed to be home like fifteen minutes ago. What’s on your mind?”

  “I just need a few days off. I got some shit to sort out.”

  The president stared at him. “Yeah, you’ve seemed tense and off-kilter for a few weeks. Taking a few days off seems like a smart move. I’ll have Jax take over while you’re gone.”

  Rock nodded and left the room. If Banger knew the real reason why he was taking some time off, he’d be livid. Since Banger didn’t know, there was no risk in Rock going against his president’s orders. He climbed the stairs, wanting to get some shut-eye before he slipped out of the clubhouse into the early morning darkness and made his way to Clotille.

  Chapter Eight

  Clotille lay on her side, knees bent and close to her body, finger gripping the steel bars of the cage Frederick had placed her in after he’d lectured her on what she’d done wrong by talking to the biker. He’d started her discipline by pulling her hair with a series of “what did you do wrong” question-and-response routines with an occasional swat on her behind with her hairbrush. Normally, that would have sufficed for her punishment for being a bad girl, but he’d been so angry and disappointed in her, he’d told her he’d have to do something more so she would never do it again.

  When he dragged her by her hair to the cage he kept in one of the locked rooms on the main floor, her heart had dropped. The steel cage was too small and she had to crumple herself into a ball in order to fit, unable to stretch out her limbs or turn around.

  As he watched her get inside, he’d said, “I know you hate the cage the most, and that’s why I’m using it as your punishment. You’ve angered me more today than you ever have during our time together. You humiliated me by talking to that dirty biker. I know you’re attracted to him. I could see it in your eyes. Since you humiliated me, you will lie in your cage until I decide you should come out. Do you understand why I am doing this to you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said in a low voice, the embarrassment in lying naked in a cage with him watching her, so pathetic and immovable, hitting her in her core. He locked the steel door, then sat on a straight-backed chair and gazed at her for what seemed like an eternity. Every once in a while he’d chuckle at her shame and pain. He was deriving an enormous amount of pleasure from her punishment, but then she was there to pleasure him. Her body was his to do with as he wanted. He owned her.

  She heard him stand up from his chair and walk out of the room. Soon she smelled the delicious aroma of grilled meat, and she knew he’d bring his food into the room and eat it while he watched her. Of course, she’d have no food until the following day.

  As she lay on the cool steel floor of her cage, her mind filled with images of Rock and her stomach clenched. Seeing him up close, talking with him, sharing that very short moment with him makes this damn cage worth it. She was proud of how well she’d lied to Frederick when he’d questioned her repeatedly about her attraction to the biker. She never once revealed that they knew each other, and he believed her. He even admitted the biker was more at fault than she was, but he punished her hard anyway. Clotille suspected it was because the younger, buffed Rock made Frederick feel insecure and jealous. So she was punished for Rock being a stud. The irony hit her and she almost laughed aloud, but she held it in for fear that he’d think she was enjoying her punishment. Some subs enjoyed the punishment aspect as much or more than the pleasure element of their relationship with their Dom, and they would manipulate their Master by purposefully misbehaving so they could be punished. Clotille was definitely not one of those.

  Since Rock had come back into her life, she’d begun questioning the whole lifestyle that had provided her some comfort in a chaotic world. Is Rock in my life? He’s close to me physically, but I’m not in his life. I doubt I’ll ever see him again. I told him to go away. He’d had no idea how she wanted to wrap herself around his hard body, his strong arms holding her close and making her feel safe and protected. But there would be consequences if she did that, and she wasn’t prepared to face them. She couldn’t.

  “Are you hungry?” Frederick’s voice broke in on her internal thoughts. She’d forgotten he was there, and she hadn’t even smelled his dinner… until now.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have been such a bad pet.” There was a long pause and she closed her eyes, trying to bring Rock’s face back into her mind. “Because I love you so much, I will allow you to eat, but you’ll have to do it from the bowl.”

  Redness crept up her neck and spread out over her cheeks and forehead. A loud bang on her cage made her eyes fly open, and she found herself staring into Frederick’s face as he crouched low on his haunches beside her. He was fucking mocking her. There was no way in hell she was going to eat her dinner from a damn bowl while he watched. She’d rather deal with the hunger pangs than submit to that.

  “So what does my disobedient pet have to say?”

  “Thank you for your kindness, Sir.” A smirk covered his
lips. “But I’d rather not eat.” The smirk turned into a thin line of displeasure.

  “You think you’re holding on to your dignity?”

  “No, Sir. I’m just not hungry.” Her gaze locked with his, a defiant sheen in it.

  He stood up and kicked her cage. “Remember you belong to me, not to yourself or anyone else. Only me.” He stormed out of the room and a rush of joy filled her. For one brief instant, Clotille Boucher had resurfaced, pushing pet away. She smiled and closed her eyes again.

  When he finally let her out of the cage three hours later, her joints were so sore that she could barely walk on her wobbly legs. He told her he didn’t want her in his bed that night, so she slept on the pallet he’d laid down on the floor at the foot of their bed. She was elated to sleep alone, and derived some pleasure out of knowing his final punishment had backfired. She washed up and stretched out on her pallet, tugging the blanket under her chin.

  As she drifted off to sleep, Frederick’s gentle voice broke through her sleepiness. “I do love you, pet. Very much.”

  Her pulse pounded in her ears, and she pretended to be asleep. After many minutes, she heard Frederick’s even breathing, and her body relaxed and allowed sleep to take her.

  * * *

  For the past two days, Rock had been watching the house waiting for a weakness in Frederick’s stringent routine. So far, the man rarely went out and when he did, Clotille was with him. The way she moved, the way her clothes hugged her curves, and the way she’d toss her long hair over her shoulder was a natural aphrodisiac, causing Rock’s jeans to tighten.

  While Rock had done the security gig at the house, he’d noticed all the cameras, but also a weak link in approaching the house from the forest of trees on the fifty acres of land. He’d intended to mention it to Frederick Blair, but then he discovered Clotille and he made a mental note that he may need to use the breach in security to his advantage.

  As he stared through his long-distance binoculars, he spotted Frederick leaving the house, briefcase in hand. The driver pulled up the black limousine and he went into the backseat. The sleek limo pulled away and drove out the iron gates. Fuck yeah! Game’s on.

  He approached the house by coming through the forest. Once he was close enough, he took out a small device not much bigger than a cigarette pack. He knew the cameras were wireless, having seen them enough during his two stints at the mansion. He figured they were only set up so Frederick could watch them later and see what Clotille did during the day. Pushing the buttons on his frequency emitter, he jammed the reception, thus making the cameras inoperable. There was no way Frederick would have his security people in tune with them—they were for his pleasure only.

  He tried the French doors off the veranda, and to his surprise, they were unlocked. Rock pushed them open and found himself in the family room. For several minutes he stood frozen, his ears pricked for anything that may signal danger. Nothing. He moved cautiously through the main floor, checking all the rooms. There was no sign of Clotille.

  As he crossed the foyer, the circular staircase beckoned him, and he remembered the last time he’d been to the house he’d spotted Clotille staring out at him from a window on the second floor. He slowly ascended the stairs.

  The second floor had a shitload of rooms, but she had been standing in one on the right side of the house so he went in that direction, opening doors and scanning each room for any signs of her.

  He turned the knob to the door in the middle of the large hallway and it swung open. Adrenaline pumped in his blood as he perused what was definitely the master bedroom. He noticed a pallet at the foot of the bed, sheets and a blanket neatly folded on top of it.

  He entered and went through the room, trying to figure out where she could be. Maybe the sonofabitch locked her in his goddamned playroom in the basement. He opened a couple doors only to reveal large walk-in closets bigger than his room at the clubhouse. To the right of the closets, there was another door. He slowly opened it and his eyes washed over Clotille as she sat stiffly on a chair, her gaze overly bright, her face ashen. She wore her hair up in a high ponytail and the tendons stood out on her neck, a small pulse visible.

  “Chérie, you don’t need to be afraid,” he said in a soothing voice as he approached her.

  “W-what are you doing here?” she stammered, her face strained.

  “I need to talk with you.”

  Looking downward, she shook her head. “No. The cameras. He’ll see you. This is bad, Roche, very bad.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I fixed it. It’ll just show as a malfunction. How much time do we have before he comes back?”

  “He said he’d be back at five o’clock. He’s always prompt.”

  Rock glanced at the digital clock on a side table near the chair. “Good, we have several hours.” He reached out and stroked her cheek gently, her skin so soft. “Are you his wife?”

  Her head jerked up. “No.”

  “I didn’t think so. Are you with him because you love him, or is it for the money? I know he’s helping your mother.”

  Crimson painted her cheeks. “I knew you did. At first I thought I could love him the way I loved… well, the way a woman should love a man. I tried, but I couldn’t. He’s been good at taking care of some things I messed up over the years. My mother adores him.”

  “She would.”

  She shrugged. “He makes a lot of things possible in my life for me and my… family.”

  “If it’s money you need, I can help you. You don’t have to be with a man who humiliates you like he did at the dinner party.”

  She covered her face with her hands and sank down on the chair. “I hate that you saw that. You don’t understand. It’s part of the lifestyle, and it was pleasing to Frederick.”

  “I understand that but I know this isn’t your lifestyle, even though you’ve tried to make it that way.”

  She stared at him, her eyes flashing. “How do you know what I like? You and I haven’t seen each other since we were fools in high school who thought the world was ours. You don’t know a damn thing about me.”

  He grinned. “I thought you were submissive.”

  “Fuck you!” She leaned back, placing her hand over her mouth as her body shook. Then a peel of laughter escaped from her lips.

  He joined in, laughing loudly. “It felt good, non? Chérie, you’re about as submissive as the women at the club. This life isn’t for you. I’ve come to take you away.”

  Tears were rolling down her cheeks as she gulped huge breaths of air. After she calmed down, she took a tissue and blew her nose. “If I were the only one involved in all this, I’d go with you in a heartbeat, but it’s not so simple.”

  “You want to stay with him?”

  “It’s not a matter of want. Things are complicated.”

  “I’m not going to beg you to come. I’m helping you out as a friend and because we have a history together, but if you tell me you don’t want to go with me, I’ll wish you a good life and walk out of it. It’s your choice.”

  In a monotone voice, she said, “I’ll stay with Frederick. Merci, Roche… for everything.”

  Rock exhaled slowly, a bitter smile whispering on his lips as he shook his head. “Okay, Clotille. Have a good life.” He whirled around and marched out of the room, a heaviness descending on him. All he wanted to do was jump on his Harley and ride it fast and hard all the way back to Pinewood Springs. You tried to help but she wants this bullshit. Your hands are now clean of it.

  He went down the stairs and walked toward the French doors. Just before he stepped outside, her voice echoed through the house. “Roche! Attends! Are you still here?” Panic played on the edges of her words. Warmth radiated throughout his body as he silently walked back to the staircase. She stood at the top of the stairs gripping the bannister, her knuckles white. Her watery gaze scanned his face as she rocked in place.

  Stone-faced, he crossed his arms. “Hurry it up.”

  A slow grin spread as th
e color slowly came back to her face. She spun around and scurried to her bedroom.

  “I got my bike, so don’t bring a bunch of shit,” he yelled after her.

  He figured they’d be back at the clubhouse in a couple hours. I wonder what the fuck Banger’s gonna say about this.

  He knew his president wouldn’t be happy.

  And at that instant, he didn’t give a damn.

  * * *

  Frederick opened the door at exactly five o’clock, his gaze turning dark when he didn’t see her kneeling on the floor, waiting for him. Anger sizzled inside him and he took long strides into the family room, expecting to see her sitting on the couch. She’d lost track of time before when she’d become too immersed in a book. The family room was empty and an eerie silence blanketed the house.

  He ran upstairs calling her name, but there was no answer. When he saw that her small room was empty, he knew she’d left him. Disbelief mixed with raw anger and sadness befell him. He sat on the edge of the bed trying to make sense of what had happened. Frederick pinpointed the restlessness he’d sensed in her beginning when he’d had the outlaw group watch his house. There’s something not lining up. I caught her talking to that muscle head in the kitchen, the same one who stopped by our table at the restaurant. Has she left me for him? The idea seemed inconceivable. He could give her the world. Maybe he’d been too hard on her after the incident with the biker in the kitchen. He’d been so angry it’d taken him over an hour to cool down before he’d punished her for her disobedience.

  He picked up the phone and dialed her number, but it went straight to voice mail. Maybe she’s been hurt. Kidnapped. He rushed downstairs to his office and turned on the monitors, rewinding the tapes to see what had happened. He leaned forward and stared at the screen, the rage creeping through his body threatening to explode. The snowy screen confirmed what he’d known since he’d realized she wasn’t there: she’d run off.