by Lilly Atlas
A small smile graced his bleeding mouth. “That’s my girl. He went at me with that bat over there.” He tilted his head toward the door where a bat rested in the corner. “Mostly bruises I think, maybe a few cracked ribs, but I’m feeling pretty dizzy, like I’m not going to be conscious for very much longer.”
This was not good. He needed to get to a hospital. “You may be losing blood internally. Are you in pain?”
He snorted in response to that question. “Yes. It’s hard to isolate because he wailed on me in multiple spots, but most of the pain is on the left side of my torso.”
“Okay try not to move much. You need to conserve your strength, plus, if you do have broken ribs, you risk puncturing a lung with excess movement. If we can get out of these restraints do you think you could walk?”
“Not sure, gorgeous. He busted me up pretty good. But I’ll sure as hell try.”
His calling her gorgeous brought back the shocking fact that she wasn’t wearing her clothes. “What happened to my clothes?” She glanced down at her nakedness, unable to keep her voice from wavering with fear. Did this sick asshole do more to her than just remove her clothes?
“No, Lila, he didn’t.” She looked up sharply, and met Striker’s serious gaze as he tapped into her thoughts. “I was awake. He made me watch as he undressed you, but I promise he didn’t do more. Though I’m not under the impression that will last, so we have to figure a way out.”
“God, I’m so sorry you had to watch that.”
“Don’t worry about me, baby. Listen, when he comes back do not antagonize him. You do whatever the hell you have to do to stay alive and escape. You hear me?”
Lila nodded at him as she looked around the room for…anything. Trembling from the cold she rattled the chain around her wrist testing its strength. There wasn’t any way she was going to break it. “Who is it? A Grimm Brother?”
Just as she asked, the door flew open, and Lila’s stomach bottomed out as she recognized their attacker. Earl White stood in the doorway and stared at her. She wished she’d paid more attention to the unease she’d felt during their conversation earlier in the evening.
Lila’s heart pounded with such fast fury, she almost didn’t hear him speak over the drumming sound.
“Dr. Emerson, you’re awake.”
His oily brown hair stuck out in all directions, his clothes hung off his thinner frame, and she thought again that he had the appearance of a chronically ill person.
What had the hairs on the back of her neck rising was the look in his eye. Lila had experience with mentally ill patients in the hospital. Patients who had gone off medication and were out of control, having psychotic breaks, but she had never seen a look in someone’s eyes quite like the one she encountered now. It was a completely insane look, a look that told her she was in real trouble, because there was no way she could reason with him.
“Where are my clothes?” she croaked, using all her remaining strength to keep the hysteria out of her voice.
“You were dressed like a slut.” White’s voice was hard as he scolded her, not at all the mild anxious tone she’d come to expect from him. “I got rid of them only to discover you were wearing something even trashier underneath.” He shook his head as though disappointed in her. “I left these on though because I didn’t want him to see you naked.” He choked out the reference to Striker as though disgusted by the thought of him. “I had planned to cover you back up, but there really isn’t much point since we will be together soon.”
Oh God. He was totally crazy. Was he planning to rape her in front of Striker? It would kill him. She could not let that happen. She needed to keep him talking while she developed a plan. “Why are we here? Why take both of us if it’s me you want?”
Striker didn’t look good. His head lolled to one side, and his eyelids repeatedly fluttered closed only to jerk back open as he fought to remain awake. Her question to Earl seemed to put a little fire back in Striker, and he glared at her. He’d asked her not to antagonize Earl, but she had to keep him talking.
Earl moved farther into the room, close to Lila. Her skin crawled as he reached out a hand and stroked it down her arm. She clenched her jaw until it ached to keep the scream inside her throat. She kept her focus on Striker. He was her touchstone to remain calm. Fury shone in his eyes and he seemed more alert now.
“I wanted to make sure he couldn’t come after you of course. I don’t know why you’re with him. I tried to warn you, sent you texts, tried to scare you with my car.” He shook his head and his shoulders slumped. “Didn’t work. It just drove you to him. I’m sorry for that. When it became obvious you would just run to him with any threat, I knew I needed a new approach. I joined your committee to be close to you. My hope was that I could convince you to leave him, but you do nothing but sing his praises.”
“Wait. What?” she asked in shock. “That was you? All of it? What about the man who attacked me at the hospital?” No wonder there had only been a few texts. They had mistakenly thought the threat left with the Grimms, when in reality Earl had simply changed his tactics.
Mr. White frowned. “I didn’t attack you! I was trying to save you! To show you how dangerous it was to be a whore for a motorcycle club!”
“But the man had a Grimm Brothers tattoo.” Lila’s head spun as she looked down at Earl’s hands. They were bare, no tattoos marred the skin.
“Tattoo parlor in Vegas airbrushed it on for me. They’d never heard of the Grimm Brothers. It scrubbed right off with alcohol. Smart huh?”
Lila’s head spun as she listened to his explanations. The entire time the threat had been from this man? Because of the timing, they’d never even considered it could be anyone but the Grimms.
Lila glanced back to Striker. Her head pounded, and she was starting to feel a little woozy, but one look at him kept her going. She needed to figure out a way to get them both out of here. Striker needed medical attention, and fast. He had remained quiet, most likely thinking Earl would get angry if he spoke.
“Don’t look at him!” Earl’s voice rose, taking on a shrill quality. “What are you even doing with trash like him? I would have given you everything, done anything for you.”
Suddenly Lila knew what she had to do. Bile rose at the thought of it, but she forced it down. It was the only way they stood a chance of escaping. With a shaky breath she sent Striker a look that she hoped conveyed how sorry she was for what he was about to witness. God, she needed to pull this off.
Lila forced her body to relax though Earl still had a hand on her shoulder. “Why do you think I’m with him? I had no idea who was sending those messages, and I was terrified. I needed protection.”
A look of confusion crossed his face. “But I sent the notes because you went off with them in the middle of the night.”
How long had this man been spying on her? “Of course I did,” she said trying to sound incredulous. “Bikers showed up at my house in the middle of the night. I was terrified of what would happen if I didn’t go along with them. I got sucked in from there. Do you know what it’s like for an ol’ lady? We’re property. I had no choice. I’ve been living in fear for months now.”
Striker wasn’t buying this, was he? He looked furious. His hands gripped the armrests of the chair so hard, his white knuckles glowed in the dim light of the room. Sitting helplessly by while she was forced to deal with the situation had to be killing him.
Earl’s gaze softened a fraction, and his hand stroked up and down her arm in what he must have thought was a soothing caress. In reality her skin crawled with revulsion under his fingertips.
“Oh, Lila, I screwed up. I’m so sorry.” He sounded truly upset by the thought of her being with the No Prisoners against her will. “Here I was trying to get you away from them, and my actions drove you right to them. Can you ever forgive me?”
Was he for real? Forgive him? She wanted to drive a knife through his skull. “Of course I forgive you, Earl.” She remembered something about
using a person’s name when in a crisis situation to make them feel validated and to humanize them. Maybe it came from a movie, but it didn’t matter now. “I’m glad you’re calling me Lila. You’re usually so formal with me and this is nice.”
He smiled, revealing yellowed teeth, and continued to touch her, moving his hand to rub her back. “I’m so glad you aren’t mad at me, Lila. I’ve been so worried about you.”
He was just crazy enough that her plan seemed to be working. As his touch grew bolder Lila’s legs started to quake. She slammed her knees back to keep them from collapsing under her, and gave him a smile she hoped was sexy. “Thank you, Earl, for caring about me.”
He stepped even closer, and wrapped both arms around her in a tight embrace. Lila gagged as evidence of his arousal rubbed against her naked belly. She lifted her shaking arms, and attempted to return the hug. “I’d like to be with you, Earl, but how can I touch you properly when I’m restrained?”
He pulled back a bit to study her face. His pupils were dilated wide and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. “I really want to trust you, Lila. I want to release you so we can be together. Do you promise you won’t try to leave?”
She forced her lips to turn up in what she hoped was a sweet smile, and placed her free hand on his pale cheek. “Yes, Earl. I owe you now, for getting me away from the motorcycle club. I’m in your debt.”
He considered her for a second, and she stood still, afraid to do anything that might indicate her deception. Earl reached in his pocket and fished out a key.
Lila’s opposite hand flew to her sore wrist after he unlocked the cuff. She rubbed the bruised skin and fought to be smart and stick to her plan. The sense of relief at being unshackled was overwhelming. They had a shot now. She just needed to get Earl out of the picture.
Earl placed his arms around her again, and smoothed his hands up her back. Lila clenched her fists at her sides and closed her eyes. There was only so far she could take this, and despite what her brain commanded, her arms just wouldn’t raise to return the embrace. When she opened her eyes, she locked gazes with Striker over Earl’s shoulder. He gave her a small nod, and the minute gesture of approval fueled her, giving her the fortitude to continue.
Earl’s hands stilled on her back, and he pressed a kiss to her neck. A shudder of loathing wracked her small frame, and she prayed he would interpret it as arousal. With her eyes on Striker, the only thing keeping her from breaking down, Lila forced a small moan from her lips in attempt to keep Earl distracted. She wanted him engrossed in his task so he wouldn’t be aware when she made a move.
The muscles in Lila’s arms and legs ached from the force required to remain still. She endured Earl’s lips on her neck as he landed kisses along the column of her throat. He was sweating and she felt the clammy moisture against her skin. With a groan, he ground his hardness against her hip, and slowly trailed his hands around her body. When they closed over her breasts, Lila reached her limit.
In a lightning quick move, Lila lifted her knee, and rammed it into Earl’s groin. He let out a tortured wail, and his hands fell from her body to clutch between his legs. The handcuff key, tumbled from his hand to the ground. Lila took advantage of his distraction, and shoved him toward the bed with all her strength. She grabbed for the dangling handcuff, and slapped it around his wrist with a satisfying click.
“The key.” Striker’s voice sounded weak and riddled with pain.
Lila spotted it on the floor, and bent to retrieve it. She had no idea where to stash it on her body so she threw it through the open door and out into the hallway. For exactly three seconds, Lila felt triumphant. Then she realized Earl could still reach her.
A cry of pain was ripped from her throat and fire lanced through her scalp. Earl fisted her hair in his free hand, and yanked her back. She cried out again as he ruthlessly backhanded her across the face, splitting her lip. It felt as though her entire face had burst wide open. Tears pricked her eyes, and she rose on the balls of her feet in an attempt to relieve some of the pain in her scalp.
Striker feared he didn’t have long before he passed out. The room swam before his eyes, and his body felt wrecked. A clock on the nightstand read two twenty-seven, or at least he thought that’s what the blurry numbers displayed. Just four and a half hours since this fucker snatched them at the gym. Lila fell to the ground seconds after he did, and before he’d regained control over his useless muscles, Earl had stuck a needle filled with God knows what into his neck.
He’d woken up forty minutes ago when the sounds of Earl struggling to remove Lila’s clothing crashed through his sedation. Earl had been muttering to himself about how Lila looked like a whore, and what a bad influence the club was on her. Striker screamed every obscenity he could think of at the fucker to draw his attention away from Lila’s nearly nude body.
Earl had turned his anger on Striker, punching his face numerous times before he’d grabbed the bat from the corner of the room and did the real damage. Every breath was like a knife to the chest, and he guessed more than one rib was broken. The bat had connected with his stomach a number of times as well, and he worried Lila’s prediction of internal bleeding was accurate. His entire body hurt like hell, but he’d done his best to downplay it for Lila’s sake. She needed to keep her wits about her. He was helpless to free them, but he wanted to aid her in any way possible.
Now, watching Earl run his hands and mouth over the body he loved, he vowed the man would not survive to see another birthday. Striker would find a way to kill him, slowly if he had the chance.
Striker tried to channel the feelings of impotence into wrath. Lila was amazing, and his heart literally ached at what she had to endure to save them both. He vowed that she would never know another second of fear if they got out of this alive.
She was so strong. Where many women would have panicked and been hysterical, his Lila pulled her shit together, and tried her damnedest to take this fucker down.
Striker fought with everything he had to remain conscious. They would have to move fast if she incapacitated Earl. His respirations increased and his hands gripped the armrests so tightly he thought he might rip them right off as he watched Earl’s hands move to Lila’s breasts.
He continued to observe, powerless as Earl and Lila struggled for a few minutes. Earl shoved her hard, slamming her fragile body into the wall where he hit her again, this time a full on punch to the midsection. Lila cried out then doubled over, her body heaving as she coughed. He screamed at Earl, but this time Striker wasn’t able to distract him.
In order to keep himself sane, Striker committed each thing Earl did to Lila to memory. He planned to do each of those things to Earl once he got his hands on him, only with greater severity.
“You fucking bitch!” Earl screamed in Lila’s face. He wrapped his hand around her throat and lifted her off her feet. “I knew you were his fucking whore. I loved you!”
Tears streamed down her face, and she made a horrible choking sound. Earl still held her by the throat and her face turned an alarming shade of purple, but she continued to fight back. Reaching forward she clawed at his face, leaving a rake of fingernail scratches down his cheek. With a loud roar Earl threw her across the room. Her small body crashed into the dresser before it crumpled to the ground at Striker’s feet.
“Lila!” Striker shouted. He struggled against the tape that bound him to the chair, ignoring the searing pain in his gut. Black spots swam in front of his vision, but he ignored that as well.
Lila coughed, and gulped air from her position on the floor. The one thing they had going for them was that she was now out of Earl’s reach.
Earl started toward them, dragging the bed with him, his shackled hand wrapped around the iron rung. Where was his strength coming from? It could only be born of rage and insanity.
“Get up, Lila,” Striker ordered. He blinked his eyes in rapid succession, trying make the room stand still.
Lila scrambled to her feet still hacking out a
cough each time she tried to suck in a breath. She swayed a bit, and braced herself against the chair Striker was tied to. Earl drew closer, and screamed vulgarities at her as he advanced.
“The bat, babe. Get the bat,” he whispered. Earl wouldn’t hear over his own screams.
Their eyes met, and she nodded then hurried to the corner on the other side of the chair, where the bat rested against the wall. Striker thought she moved with a slight limp, but didn’t have time to consider it further.
Lila grabbed the bat with both hands, her face a mask of agony, streaked with tears and black eye makeup. A loud battle cry erupted and she swung the bat, slamming it into Earl’s head with a crack that would have made Mickey Mantle proud. The man collapsed to the ground in a heap and the bat clattered to the floor next to him.
Lila rushed to Striker’s side. She knelt in front of him, and swiped her tears away even as new ones fell. With trembling hands, she reached forward and tugged at the tape around his forearms in a fruitless attempt to free him. “God, Striker, he used so much tape. It’s going to take me forever to get it off. What if he wakes up?” Her voice was harsh, ravaged by the pressure Earl had exerted on her throat.
“Look at me, Lila,” he commanded as he gazed down at her fear-filled face.
Lila looked up from the floor at his feet.
Her chocolate eyes gutted him. Terror, remorse, shame, and guilt stared up at him. All things he would have to help her battle once this was over. There was simply no time to address it now. “You did it, baby. He’s down, and we can get out of here. There’s a knife in my left boot.”
She gave him a tiny smile. “I forgot about that.” Lila pulled out the military style knife he always kept in his boot. More than once she’d teased him about it. Not wasting any more time, Lila sawed through the tape around his arms first, and in seconds he was free.
