Jenna
“Please!” I scream in vain, “Don’t do this! Don’t do this, Enrique! I’ll do anything!” My voice is already raw from my shouts. The veins in my neck and face feel as if they are about to explode from the pressure. I pull back harder on the men holding me down, but it’s no use. I’m not going anywhere. Enrique fires and I can only bear witness as Rev’s body pulsates on the floor.
I have used a Taser gun myself. It was part of our emergency defense training with the treatment center. The employees, almost all girls, sat around our community room for the event. The furniture was pushed to the side, and the group leading the talks placed down foam mats on the floors. At the time, we expected that they would teach us basic self-defense, but we were shocked when the man, an ex-military leader, took out a black suitcase full of Tasers and stun guns.
After a few emergency situations, our facilities’ higher ups thought it best we each had one in our offices under lock and key. Firing it at training was the only time I felt the need to use it. My shot landed in a dummy’s back with a small trail of smoke pluming out of the foam. The scene was gruesome and cruel. No one deserved that. And I knew I could never use one in real life.
But seeing it used in real life—and, worse, on someone I cared about—brought it to a whole new level. I know that a guy like Enrique isn’t keeping the gun on the lowest setting or buying some dinky self-defense model like the one still sitting in the bottom drawer of my desk. Shots like that, especially to the chest, could kill men like Rev. I lose my breath waiting for signs that he’s okay. A few seconds pass, during which I can hear the sound of my heartbeats throbbing in my head. Then, mercifully, it’s over. He starts moving again. His eyes blink, and his fingers fidget on the floor.
“Get him up,” Enrique commands one of the guys nearest him with a snap of his fingers. It takes three of them to grab him by the collar and bring him up to his feet. His legs wobble with his knees caving under the heavy weight of his body. He looks much more fragile than the man who’d taken me so hard, so rough, moments earlier. I long to reach out and tuck the curls of his hair behind his ears.
“Rev!” I shout again. “Are you okay?” I have no idea why I’m asking. I mean, it’s not like they’re going to let him answer. Still, he shoots me a look from under the crease of his dark brows. With his mouth hanging open, he swallows and nods. It was going to take time to recover from the hit and recharge his batteries. The men who hold him pluck out the Taser studs from his chest while he grimaces.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Rev?” Enrique demands as he stands between us. “How did you know about this place?”
Rev sucks in a deep breath of air and then spits on Enrique’s shiny, black leather combat boots. “You should know by now,” he says slowly, “that I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere, you stupid motherfucker.”
To be honest, I’ve been wondering the same question. How did Rev find me? Was it part of the “deal” he was talking about earlier? What did he sell away to find me, and would all of this be worth the price or his own life, if Enrique has his way?
I remind myself of the whole trust thing. I have to trust him and do what he says. He knows the club world better than anyone, even Enrique or that guy Vic we met up earlier with. The best thing I can do is to keep my mouth shut and my nose down.
Enrique’s feet shuffle back and forth in small circles in front of us. He chuckles to himself. “Well, your little snitch wasn’t very helpful, was he? He led you right into a trap. If you think you’re getting out of here alive, you’re damn wrong.”
“I don’t care about me, Enrique,” Rev adds. “Let her go, and you can do whatever the hell you want to me. I’ll pay her and her brother’s debts.”
“You think that’s how it’s going to work?” Enrique turns around to me, eyeing me with disgust. He reaches over and grabs me by my disheveled ponytail. The men let go, and I go flying towards Enrique and Rev. The pain feels as if each strand of my hair is being ripped off of my scalp one by one.
“Your little whore here is promised to me. She made the decision to find me and make a deal. And I ain’t going to let it go until she’s paid off each and every dollar.” He brings me closer, yanking my hair so that I’m forced to dip backward into his arms. Enrique’s hands stroke my shoulders and chest, and his scratchy face lay between my neck and shoulder. A cold shiver runs up my spine at his touch.
“Hmm,” he muses. “By the smell of her, I’d wager that you got your fill of her already. Good thing my workers got your payment for her or I’d add it to the list of shit you will be paying me back for.” Enrique tucks me into his arms while Rev growls near us. “But now, it’s my turn. I should’ve done it first, but having you watch as I fuck her into submission sounds so much better to me.”
Enrique pulls me tighter to him so that my back presses into his hips. The sadistic asshole’s package grows thick against my leg.
“Don’t worry, Jenna,” he hisses, the stink of his breath washing over me. “I’m gonna go easy on you—this time.”
His men part while he leads me back to the couch in the red room, throwing me down on my back. The hem of my dress flies up with my legs, and I struggle to peel it back down without exposing myself anymore. Enrique pushes down on me, forcing me to split my legs apart. I cry out, but he lands a shoulder to my mouth. The throbbing pain hurts, but nothing like my bite to his collarbone. He yelps like a dog whose tail was stepped on as he stands to his feet.
“You. Fucking. CUNT!” he shouts, his voice thumping with every word. “I’m gonna make your ass pay for that!” He places a hand on the two white marks on his skin. I barely broke through it, but the mark is already turning a satisfying shade of purple. I try not to smile or smirk. I close my eyes and wait for him. “Oh, this is going to be so much worse for your now,” he sneers.
I cower as far as I can into the mushy, musty couch cushions. My hands go up near my face as he flies back down upon me. I feel his hands tear at me, his steamy breath covering my skin, and his boots press into my feet so that I’m trapped in place. I cry out, my hand outstretched towards a room of men who look on with devastating smiles. They snicker and sneer at me while whispering towards the guys next to them. None of them look torn up by this or ready to leap to my defense.
Just as Enrique presses his face into my breasts, I hear a voice, still weak but growing, call out, “Get your fucking hands off of her, Enrique!” Rev’s head still hangs low to his panting chest as his arms are restrained by men on either side of him.
Enrique doesn’t stop his assault. His hands continue to tear at my dress and skin, but he does look over at him. “You stupid fuck!” he snaps. “This is what you get for disobeying my orders, Rev! You get to watch as I take this little slut. And I’m gonna take her hard. I think I’ll start with the ass. This nice, supple piece of—”
“You sick son of a bitch,” Rev cuts him off. “What about the deal we made? You’re gonna go back on that in front of your men?”
Suddenly, everything stops. Enrique’s body stiffens on top of me. He pulls himself up using his hands so that he hovers above me. I cover myself up while he stands and walks over towards Rev.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?” he demands.
“I’m saying that you broke our deal, you cheap-ass motherfucker.”
“The deal was that you get her brother and bring him back to me,” Enrique retorts. “You didn’t do that, did you? Instead, you kidnapped his skank sister and tried to lay some bullshit claim on her.”
Rev lifts his head and looks past Enrique towards me on the couch. I sit up. I can only guess that calling a guy out on a broken promise was a huge deal for guys like Enrique and Rev. By the way the men stare at the two, it seems like there may be some trouble brewing.
“Aw fuck, not again,” the man nearest to me says to another guy, “not again.” From what I can tell, Enrique may have a reputation for not keeping his word. For someone so insistent that I pay my brot
her’s debt, my anger was rising as well.
“That wasn’t the deal,” Rev says as he looks towards Enrique with a sly smile. “The deal was that I bring her brother or the cash he owed to you. And when I told you that he wasn’t at his home, you gave me a choice—find Mark or kill her. But when I showed up at the bar with her, you didn’t give me a chance to satisfy the deal by finding Mark.”
“I gave you your orders,” Enrique replies matter-of-factly. “It was to kill the girl. And she’s right fucking there.”
“That’s the point, Enrique,” Rev quips. “How the fuck was I supposed to find her brother and get you your cash when you didn’t even give me time to do my damn job. I think you wanted to get me killed.”
The men holding him drop his arms, and Rev
charges towards Enrique quicker than anyone can chase him down. “You couldn’t fucking stand that I wouldn’t join up with the Red Dukes,” Rev snarls, right in his face. “This is what it’s been about this whole time, isn’t it? This is your fucking excuse to murder me, so I was out of your way.”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re on about.” Enrique appears stunned, if not taken aback. I have no idea if this is a show or if Rev believes what he’s saying, but it looks like it’s working. The men around Enrique have softened. They look less like a pack of wolves about to attack and more like overgrown middle graders trying to decide which school yard bully to join.
“You just couldn’t stand a guy like me making money in your territory working for other clubs, could you? It’s true. You know it. You couldn’t be half the man I am if you tried.”
Enrique presses his chest into Rev’s. The two men grunt and stutter, fighting for space. “Do you know who you’re talking to, you motherfucker!” Enrique shouts. “I didn’t get here by chance. I own this club and this fucking place.”
“That’s the difference between you and me, Enrique. You’re an entitled little pansy who couldn’t run a club if he tried. The Red Dukes are a fucking joke. No one gives a shit about them or thinks they’re major players. And they think you’re fucking shit. There are at least four clubs ready to come in here and tear you from limb to limb, and I can’t wait to watch it happen.”
“You really threatening me, here? Look around the place! I could have you killed in seconds.”
“Then do it. What the fuck are you waiting for? But be the big man and do it yourself. We know you make your grunts here do all the dirty work, so your fingers stay clean.”
There’s a pause where no one moves. No one says a word. You could hear a pin drop if it weren’t for that damn music still playing in the background. A male singer shouts about the world ending while his guitar plays some rift over and over.
Finally, Enrique laughs. It’s a terrible, insane, otherworldly laugh that spreads to the few men still standing firmly by Enrique’s side. “You think you would survive against me? I think it’s a challenge, boys!”
“I think that if you got me in a ring or let me at you, you’d be dead in seconds,” Rev shoots back.
“Rev, please,” I say, but he doesn’t hear me.
“I’d love to punch that nose of yours inside fucking out. I could do it in one knock.”
Enrique laughs again. “You’re talking boxing? Do you really know me and my past? It’s obvious you don’t, so let me school you.” He points towards the bar and leads the group on a short field trip. I’m escorted by a man who practically drags me up and off the couch.
“This—this is who you’re fucking messing with, Rev!” Enrique stands himself up on the bar, just like he had hours earlier. The half-drunk glasses next to him fall to his side, so he has no choice but to walk on the glass and alcohol. He reaches up and over the heads of one of the bartenders to a faded, blown up poster of a man in a boxing ring holding his fist bloodied fist high in the air. Enrique presses it to his face, so there is no mistaking who the man is.
“First division champion of the Midwest region. I took out men twice your size so fast that they called me ‘Enrique the Serial Killer.’” The men around me nod their head in agreement. Even though there were obvious doubts about him being a man of his word, the majority of the men seemed to revere him for whatever he did in the ring. They look at the picture as if it’s a shrine to a God among men.
My stomach turns. I know what comes next, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
As Rev opens his mouth to speak, the world goes quiet for a second. The room stops spinning. My head stops pounding. In my mind, I imagine myself breaking free and running towards Rev. With the rest of the men stunned in their place, dream me is able to pull Rev away, out of the doors, and out into the night. We’re able to break free, drive through the city and out towards wherever his bike can go. All of that before he can say the words...
“Prove it, then. Fight me.”
“Fight you? Fuck no. I’d rather just kill you now.”
“That’s what I thought. You’re a chicken shit pussy.” Rev smiles now. He clearly loves playing the instigator. “You’re too afraid that I would knock you out and you’d lose all that fake rep you’ve got here. Every one of these men would know what a hack you really are.”
Enrique’s jaw twists from side to side until he nods to himself. He looks across the room at his men who wait patiently for a comeback. “I guess this isn’t just a fucking party anymore, boys! We’re going to have ourselves an old-fashioned fists-on-fists match.”
The men holler as they part the room for Enrique. He jumps back on the floor and pulls my arm so that I’m forced to walk with him. We stand before Rev as he offers his hand. “You win, and I’ll give her back, clear her brother’s debts, and let you walk out of here a free man. You lose, which you will, and I’ll have her mopping up your brains from the parking lot.”
“Please, Rev. Don’t do this. I can work here. I can pay off the debts. Just go. Please.” I look into green eyes that have glossed over with anger. He’s a mere shadow of the man I’ve gotten to know—the one who has a caring heart underneath that cool, bad boy, biker exterior. This is the Rev I met on the first day in Mark’s apartment. And this is the last version of Rev I’ll probably ever see.
Enrique laughs. “I’d listen to your bitch, Rev. You’ve got time to just take a beating from my guys for breaking into my territory and get the fuck out of here with a few broken ribs. I promise I won’t be too rough on Jenna... the first few times.”
“Not a fucking chance,” Rev growls. “We’re doing it. You’ve got yourself a fight.” He offers his hand to Enrique. It’s sealed.
I’m going to have to watch the man I love fight to the death... for me.
Chapter Fourteen
Rev
“Please, I’m begging you, don’t do this—not for me. I don’t want to watch you get the life knocked out of you, Rev.”
Jenna sits at my feet, pleading with me. Her blue eyes swell with tears that hang off her eyelashes but somehow don’t fall. No one, outside of my overly anxious mother, has ever cried for me. I don’t know how I should feel about it.
“I’m not doing it just for you, Jenna,” I remind her. “I’m doing it so we can get the hell out of this mess. This ain’t gonna stop until Enrique and the Red Dukes are out of the picture. Plus, that prick deserves to get the shit beat out of him. He’s been on some high horse for far too long.”
She looks at me with longing eyes. “What does that even mean? What were you saying to him about other clubs wanting a piece of him?”
I want to tell her about Vic and his guys coming as backup, but ignorance is bliss in a situation like this. The less she knows, the better possibility of me keeping her safe. It kills me to do this, but it’s the best thing for her if she wants to make it out alive. Plus, I honestly have no idea their status. After shaking hands with Enrique back in the Red Duke’s barroom, Jenna and I were escorted out to this holding area (more like a dungeon) while the rest of the club sound like they’re preparing a boxing stage somewhere outdoors—pro
bably to turn a profit on us. Even now, through the plywood-covered windows, I hear the noise of someone hammering in the distance.
I turn back to Jenna. “Every club owner I know would kill to get in on this action,” I tell her. “The guys I know hate Enrique. He’s a cocky and arrogant son of a bitch, and he thinks he runs the city when his club is peanuts compared to some of the bigger ones. I’m doing a favor by clocking him out.”
“But what about his history? You saw those pictures, Rev. He couldn’t have been lying about that.”
I flash back to those black and white photos of him in the ring. I heard about that when I first met him. A friend of mine with club connections introduced me to the ‘Killer,’ a guy with a great left hook. When I saw him, I didn’t believe the hype. He was pudgy, out of shape, and sweating like a pig. He wasn’t exactly the picture of a prize fighter. I laughed it off then thinking it was a sarcastic joke, but I’m not laughing anymore.
It’s not that I haven’t been in my share of fights. My entire life has been a battle to get through to the next day. I’ve made my mark on Chicago streets for my fists, my size, my work with my hands. It’s why Enrique sent me to find Mark, and why I ended up with Jenna at my feet begging me to stay put.
Brute’s Property: A Motorcycle Club Romance (The Blazers MC) (Claimed By Him Book 3) Page 13
