Crave

by Margaret McHeyzer

  The cartel has loyalty to their own. That’s how they work. They discreetly advertise, giving small-timers an opportunity to join them or fuck off before they steamroll their way in, destroying all the uncooperative players left.

  “They may, and really, there’s nothin’ stopping them. We’re all in the same spot, easy annihilation, if that’s what they wanna do.”

  Wake takes a deep breath and looks over at Sarge, who’s checking his machete’s edge.

  “All for two chicks.” Wake’s half-pissed, but we’d do it for his old lady.

  “You can walk away any time you want, you know that. We voted you in, we can vote you out or you can leave. Black out our emblem and you get a free pass, but don’t think about joining nowhere else.” It’s his one-time, get-out-of-jail-free card.

  “Not what I’m saying. I’m a Hunter and fuckin’ proud of it. Just sayin’, a lot of fuss for two chicks.”

  “Hunters would do it for any other old lady in the club.”

  He slaps a hand to my shoulder and nods. “I hear ya, brother.” Wake walks away, leaving me a minute of peace.

  We hear the Crowes as they come down the trail toward us.

  Skinny’s first, flanked by two of his guys. The rest of the club glides on in behind him.

  I walk over to Skinny, who’s still sittin’ on his bike, waiting for me to reach him.

  “How do you wanna do this?” he asks me.

  “We go in quick, hard, and fast.”

  “What’s the setup?”

  “Restaurant at the front, house joined at the back. Three entrances. Front door, back door, and one down the side for deliveries.”

  He looks at my brothers, eyes the number of men here and then turns and looks at his. They’ve got an extra five or so to us.

  “You split half, side access and half back, we’ll take the front and set up a perimeter,” I advise.

  “That’s fine. Tomorrow you’ll come to our house, papers in hand, regardless how this works out.”

  “I’ll make sure they’re signed over to you.”

  Skinny looks back at his crew, gives them a wave of the hand and they all leave.

  “We’ll wait ‘til you’re in place, give you ten seconds, then we’re in,” he says.

  I go back to my bike, and get ready for battle.

  I’m not sure what we’ll find when we get there. But either way, Cain’s gotta die and I’ve got to get my girl back.

  Grit: Chapter 30

  Phoenix

  “Gentlemen, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” he says as I crawl behind him. The only thing covering me is tit tassels and a G-string. I feel like a cheap hooker on display for everyone else’s pleasure.

  “Well, well. What have we got here?” a deep, Southern voice asks.

  “My new slave. I’ve just acquired her,” he responds to the question and tugs on the leash that’s attached to a thick, black leather collar around my neck.

  “Is she for us to share?” another voice asks.

  I try and keep as calm as I possibly can, but being totally exposed and exhibited is humiliating to my very core.

  “Stand,” he commands me.

  I stand slowly and slump my shoulders down, trying to hide as much of me as possible with my loose curls hanging over my breasts.

  “I want to see all of her,” the Southern guy says, his voice slightly rough this time.

  “Hair back,” he says.

  I look up to see there are three other men in the room. All three are looking at me with such ravenous, intense looks that I imagine they all want to rip me to shreds and abuse me.

  Moving my hair to hang down my back, I quickly avert my eyes again. I don’t want to see how they look at me any longer. I can barely listen to them talk about me like I’m nothing more than a rag doll with holes.

  “Hmmm, she certainly looks pretty standing there. Can she suck cock?”

  “I’ve been breaking her in. Tonight is her initiation. You can’t fuck her pussy or her ass, but please feel free to enjoy her mouth.”

  Tears spring to my eyes, knowing that in a few moments, those filthy animals will have their penises in my mouth.

  “Can I eat her pussy and lick that gorgeous rim?” the Southern beast asks.

  “As much as you like…” He stops talking for a moment and I hear him chuckle. “Her body enjoys being teased, though she fights it with everything that she has.”

  “This is going to be so much fun,” another man says, his grammar is so articulate and his pronunciation is so clear, that he sounds like an upper-class, wealthy man, not a beast. But his words expose exactly the sort of man he is.

  He’s just as satanic as the beast that has me chained. And they’re the ones I’m mostly frightened of.

  “Up on the table, beautiful,” he says as he links our fingers and urges me toward the table.

  The hesitation in my step is enough for him to do something that will drive me to the edge of my own sanity.

  “Bring in the girl,” he says over his shoulder to someone standing behind me. Most likely one of his men.

  The room fills with silence, and my body begins to tremble with what I’m going to see. I know he’s talking about Milina. He wants to use her to punish me for hesitating in doing what he wants.

  My fingertips turn icy, my head begins to spin and suddenly I can’t breathe. There’s a huge knot in my chest, and it hurts so badly that I don’t think I can see what he’s going to show me.

  With my head still lowered, all my other senses are hyper-aware of everything happening in this room. My skin prickles as I feel the leers and evil eyes of every monster in this room.

  If my eyes were looking at them, I’d be able to see them licking their lips as their gazes take in every inch of my body, focusing on my sex and breasts. If I lifted my head, I might even see them rubbing their disgusting hard-ons through their tailored trousers as they imagine debasing me and sacrificing me to whatever sick desire may be playing around in their evil minds.

  The door squeaks as it opens, and I hear a soft panting followed by pained moans.

  “Here, Boss,” says whoever was sent to get Milina.

  I still don’t look up, but I feel him pushing her into the room. Out of the corner of my eye I see a bloodied and bruised body fall to the floor, discarded like a heap of dirty undergarments.

  “Nix,” she pleads with me.

  I can’t help but turn my head to look at the girl whose body is slumped, and broken.

  “Milina,” I cry as I hurl myself at her, wrapping her body in my arms, trying to protect her against whatever else they plan to do to her.

  The moment my skin comes in contact with her raw, battered body, she yelps in pain. The sound rips straight through me. My heart breaks with sadness, knowing that I could’ve prevented it all if only I hadn’t taken her to the salon for those stupid pedicures and manicures.

  “I’m so sorry, Milina. So sorry, so sorry.” I kiss her head, but try not to apply too much pressure on her as I keep contact with her bruised and bloody skin.

  “It’s not your fault, Nix,” she says between moans of pain.

  “Get up,” he instructs me.

  “Don’t look, keep your eyes closed,” I whisper to Milina, I don’t want her mind filled with any more horror than she’s already seen.

  “I love you,” we murmur together, just loud enough for the other to hear.

  The words are personal and shouldn’t be shared with these monsters. They’re only for Milina and me. They don’t deserve love. They deserve to be fucking gutted, slowly.

  I stand at the command and wipe the fat tears clinging to my cheek away with the back of my hand.

  “Table.”

  I walk over to the table, head held high, shoulders straight and back, chin up. Fuck them. They will not break me. I’ll show them they can fuck me, but I refuse to let them into my own personal headspace.

  I lift my left leg and get up on the table and crawl to the center of
it.

  “Lie on your back.”

  I lay on my back.

  “Bend your knees up, open those hot legs and let everyone see your sweet cunt, slave.”

  I do as he commands.

  The three men from around the table stand and walk to the edge where I’m lying.

  “Whoa, she’s got a piercing. You’re certainly right. She’s got a sweet little pussy. I’ll give you ten thousand for her.”

  My head snaps over to a bloodied and bruised Milina, and silently I pray for her not to say a word. Her eyes are tightly closed and she can’t see how these beasts are reacting to me.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s not for sale.”

  “I’ll give you twenty thousand for her,” the Southern devil says.

  “You’re insulting me. Taste her, fuck her mouth, but don’t come in it. Come all over her, but she’s not to taste your cum.”

  Tears are rolling down my cheeks. My hair’s lying around my shoulders collecting the majority of the moisture, keeping my tears from hitting the table.

  Small cries are coming from Milina, and I’m doing all I can not to make a sound. To hopefully protect Milina, and as much of me as I can. But the careless words they’re saying about my body, the fact that they’re so lax in their attitude toward me, is enough to cause nightmares in any sane person.

  I feel the first intrusion to my sex, two fingers go straight inside me and begin their exploration of something they don’t have permission from me to do.

  “Fuck, she’s tight. I bet she can grip a cock and milk it with these tight muscles. I love this little piercing too,” the scariest one says as he flicks my clit ring.

  “Wait ‘til you taste her, she’s sensational,” he says.

  He pulls his fingers out of me, and I hear him slurping them clean. “Damn, she does taste good. I’ll give you forty thousand for her.”

  “No, she’s not for sale,” he says again, with a certain finality in his voice.

  “I may just have to steal her from you,” the suave cool voice says.

  “Ha! You can definitely try; I do like some competition. But she won’t go anywhere, because, I have her.” I imagine he’s pointing to Milina.

  “What’s she like?” the Southern man asks.

  “She loves a good ass-fucking, so I’ve been told. I’ve only fucked her mouth-not the best at head jobs-but my boys said she squirms and moans for a whip. As a matter of fact, they said she loves the cat best of all.”

  “Really?” two men say together. His disturbing and repulsive statement obviously piqued an interest in these perverted motherfuckers.

  “Come up here, sweet lady,” the Southern guy instructs Milina.

  I tilt my head and my eyes fly to him, silently pleading with him about our arrangement.

  “Up,” he says to Milina.

  Her damaged body struggles to stand from the carpeted floor, I can tell that she’s aching and sore by just her jerky movements and small cries of pain.

  “Please,” I say to him. Trying to remind him of what we agreed.

  He walks over to the side of the table, his groin close to my face. He leans down and looks into my tear-filled eyes. “What is it that you want, slave?”

  “You promised that you’d let her go if I did everything you want me to. I’m your good slave, Master. Please don’t let them hurt her.”

  He straightens his back, puffs out his chest and scrubs his hand over his chin, like he’s considering my plea.

  “Felix,” he says without even turning to look at the big, beefy thug standing by the door.

  In four large strides, Felix is beside him waiting for his next command.

  With just a flick of his eyes, he tells Felix what to do…hold me down.

  I start to scream and kick, yelling as loud as I can. Hoping against hope that someone might hear me and intervene.

  I know, in my heart, my resistance is pointless. They’ve done this before, I’m sure, plenty of times. I’m nothing more than a toy to them.

  I manage to kick the guy going down on me in my struggles, he bolts upright and I see a gun in a holster when his suit jacket flares back.

  “Little cunt!” he yells at me and punches me in the stomach with what feels his entire body weight.

  The punch itself is excruciating, Felix grabs my arms and pins them down, immobilizing the top half of my body.

  I feel like I’m about to throw up. There’s vomit rapidly rising up from my beaten stomach. My body’s shaking, trying to regain just a bit of my former self. Someone’s tugging at my hair, reeling my head back and putting my neck into an uncomfortable position.

  “I told you what I would do. You’ve fucking embarrassed me; now you’ll watch her die!” he screams at me, his face ashen with anger, his hands balled into fists.

  “NO!” I yell as one of the animals grabs Milina, locking her elbows together behind her back.

  He takes a running leap and kicks her in the stomach. Milina lets out a guttural, throaty cry as her body tries to bend forward, completely winded by the blow.

  The animal holding her arms behind her back jerks her head up by her hair and he lands a punch to her nose.

  There’s an ear-deafening crack and blood pours out of it. Milina’s crying, and the tears pouring down her cheeks are making me hurt more.

  He backhands her across the face. The sheer force behind it causes her already-swollen lip to split.

  The others in the room are chuckling and encourage him to keep going.

  Everything inside me is dying, watching my best friend being maliciously attacked by the Devil.

  The assault keeps going, his fists keep hitting, and I watch as Milina slumps against her human restraints.

  Just as I close my eyes, and I finally reconcile myself to my own life of whoring, I hear a gunshot. A definite echo, the sharp and precise sound of a weapon.

  Everything stops.

  Even Milina’s whimpering is silenced.

  My eyes widen.

  The intensity of my heart’s pounding increases.

  Everyone freezes for the longest second.

  The door flies open and I’m met with a sight I never thought I’d see.

  Sarge.

  Grit: Chapter 31

  “Jaeger!” Sarge yells from down the other end of the whorehouse.

  The Crowes have managed to take out six of Cain’s men. The restaurant at the front is completely cleared, and now Hunters are inside the whorehouse looking for the girls.

  We’re in and have secured part of the pussy shop, but I can tell by Sarge’s tone that he’s found them.

  I don’t hesitate for a second. I bolt down the long hallway, with Hash, Wake, Dodge and Cruise behind me. The door’s already open and the moment I’m inside the room I see her.

  A huge guy has his arm around Phoenix’s neck, holding her in a choke hold. Sarge’s fist has just connected with the guy holding Milina, and Cain’s looking over his shoulder at me, smiling.

  There’s a long meeting table in the center of the room. Some of the chairs are upturned and some are still in their rightful spots.

  My eyes narrow in on Phoenix. I see she’s totally exposed except for some stupid looking tassels on her tits. But her skin, it’s covered with bruises and marks. Her eyes find mine, and for a split second I see a look of sheer terror and panic cross her face before it changes into relief. I’ve come to get my girl back, and I think she’s glad to see me.

  They’re on the other side of the room, opposite end from me.

  Cain steps away from the bedlam that’s unfolding around the rest of the room. He rubs a hand to the back of his neck and eyes me with a look that’s supposed to inspire terror from me.

  First and foremost, I’m a street fighter. I’ve snapped the necks of men bigger than him, and never thought about them again.

  Today, I’ll take great satisfaction in knowing that Cain will be dead within the next few minutes.

  “Jaeger,” he says as he straightens
his shoulders.

  “I just want the girls.” I take a step toward the table and Cain takes an opposing stride.

  He shrugs off his suit jacket and puts it on the back of one of the chairs.

  Looks like this is the way it’s gonna have to be.

  He carefully unbuttons his shirt, and takes it off. His chest is filled with scars and angry red lines cover his torso, from his neck all the way to where his trousers sit on his waist. Looks like he might know a thing or two about fighting.

  “They aren’t yours anymore.”

  “They’ll always be mine,” I say, beginning to circle the table, one careful step after another.

  My legs slowly crossing over the other, my chin lowered, my shoulders back, hands in tight fists, ready to strike my opponent.

  Cain knows what I’m doing. He’s keeping up with me, circling the table, two alpha sharks in a stand-off. Both ready to exchange, both ready to battle, though neither ready to die.

  I grab a chair and throw it at Cain. He ducks and it misses him. He jumps up on the table in one swift maneuver.

  I step back and watch as Cain lands in a defensive stance. Left leg forward, hips rotated though his arms cross in front of his chest.

  “You’ve made it personal,” he says as he lifts his chin with superior confidence. “You’ve already lost this battle.”

  Cain lowers his arm, inviting me to join him in this duel. He’s cocky and believes he can defeat me.

  I jump up on the table, opposite end from Cain. My right arm is up near my chin in a fist and my left arm is hovering around my mid-section, left leg out in front, ready to take him on.

  Cain straightens his stance, the arrogant motherfucker telling me by his position that he’s not at all worried about me.

  I charge for Cain, throwing a right cross with a tight fist to his face. Cain steps away from it into my blind side. I kick with my left leg to hit Cain’s right thigh, but Cain lifts his leg in defense, and I only make glancing contact with his shin. I come in with a right elbow to smash his nose, but the ass brings both hands up to block.