Simple Ride (Hellions Ride Book 6)

by Chelsea Camaron

  I don’t wait for her to reply. I don’t give a shit. Pamela was smart to delete the call. But why was it necessary?

  What makes a woman hide so much? What makes a woman who is as loyal, as I have learned she is, leave a husband?

  Did she dupe me? Was it all a façade, or is she in trouble?

  The man on the phone had no problems threatening me. He knows nothing of the trained killing machine I am, yet he had the balls to threaten me. She has marks on her pussy lips from him, no doubt about it.

  Rage consumes me. I see red.

  He hurt her. He hurt her in the most damaging ways imaginable. And in all this time, she has held onto her secrets, her pain. She held it in. She has given me an outlet. Time and again, she has been there for me to get lost in or simply to be with. However, she has kept her own struggles to herself. She has carried her own burdens without anyone to share the load.

  Well, baby, she better hold on tight because she’s not alone anymore. I’m going to find the fucker that hurt her, and I’m going to make him pay.

  ~Pamela~

  Mistakes happen when people get distracted, and I am officially distracted as I make my way to my trailer. My heart hurts that Boomer would think he could pay me for my time. I thought Boomer and I had something semi-real.

  Who am I kidding? He knows nothing about the real me. If Boomer knew my past, he would have never touched me in the first place. To think he could pay me cuts deeply, though.

  I’m not a hooker. A whore, obviously, but it happened for a reason. I needed a place where I felt safe. The Hellions gave me that until he found me. It’s been a good run, but now it’s time to move on.

  Without thinking, I step inside, my mind on Boomer. It needed to be on survival, because I make it two steps inside before I am grabbed from behind, his breath hot on my neck.

  “Hello, dear,” he snarls as he tightens his forearm around my throat.

  I pull at him, but he is bigger, and I have never stood a chance against him.

  “I think it’s time we have a little chat. First, though, we should get reacquainted. It’s been a while, lover.”

  My veins run cold as his free hand gropes my breast. No, no, no.

  He turns me around and pulls at my shirt while I fight to keep my arms down. Then he reaches in his pocket and out comes a box cutter. Effortlessly, he cuts the material from me.

  I move to break away, but he pushes me to the living room floor. The old carpet is rough against the skin of my stomach.

  His elbow comes down on the back of my head as he pins my face into the carpet. The box cutter blade flashes before he presses it to my cheek.

  “Now, now, be still, Pamela. We wouldn’t want to stain more carpet with your blood, would we?”

  I fight the urge to vomit.

  He straddles me, grinding his erection into my denim-covered ass. “Before we get to the fun stuff, I need to know where my boys are.”

  I say nothing. Kill me, asshole, but I will not speak.

  He grabs my hair and lifts my head.

  Wham! He slams my face into the floor. Pulling me back, he does it again and again. My nose cracks, and blood runs down onto my lips then pools on the old, worn carpet.

  “Where are my boys, Pamela?”

  Again, I say nothing, and he releases my head and moves the box cutter from my cheek down to my neck.

  Flick.

  The blade nicks my skin. It burns, and the air hitting the opening only makes it sting further.

  He leans down. “I’m gonna check my marks. Better be still, or I’ll give you more.” He licks the wound on my neck before pushing off me. Then he slides my jeans and panties down.

  My face throbs, blood is running down onto the carpet, my neck burns, and my ass is now exposed to him.

  The slap comes before I can brace, surely leaving a handprint behind on my bare bottom. He trails the box cutter over my back and down my ass cheeks, making me aware that he’s in charge, before he scoots my knees under me, spreading my pussy open. After he rubs his calloused fingers over the lips, feeling every raised circle he created, he laughs, and I dry heave.

  “Feels good. Remember when I gave you these?”

  Like it was fucking yesterday.

  Tied to our bed, I’m immobile and exhausted. He has fucked me for hours. The little blue pill said to call the doctor if you have an erection lasting more than four hours, we have to be close to that mark now.

  The smell of sex and cigarettes assaults my nose.

  “Let’s have some fun.” He laughs his evil laugh that only lets me know I am in more trouble. “You’re mine, Pamela. No one else’s. I’m going to make sure everyone knows this pussy is used.”

  Before I can contemplate what he means, the cigarette comes down on my pussy lip, the cherry burning into my skin before extinguishing. I cry out in agony. I fight the ties on my wrists and ankles, only causing them to cut into my skin farther.

  He blows the ash off my lips, offering no relief to the raw skin.

  I brace myself, try to contain myself, as he relights the cigarette and does it again. Over and over, he burns marks into my lips.

  The adrenaline finally leaves me limp, defeated.

  Hell has a special place for men like him. He just can’t seem to get there fast enough.

  After he finally passed out that night, I soaked in a cold bath for an hour, trying to ease the pain between my legs. Using petroleum jelly diaper creams from the boys, I tried to minimize scarring, but the tissue was damaged. I healed, but the marks remained.

  Everything with him has been one scar after another, whether physically or emotionally. He has left no part of me unbattered.

  His fingers plunge inside me. “This can all be over. I’ll stop if you tell me where my boys are. I know you wouldn’t be far from them. I’ll find them, Pamela. Tell me now and I’ll stop.”

  I can only lie here and wish for a quick death. Let my boys be free. Let him never find them. I’ll take their location to my grave.

  I’m in agony with every touch.

  My will is gone. He wins. He has finally broken me beyond repair. Those are my thoughts as I feel him enter me from behind.

  I am done.

  Chapter Seven

  ~Boomer~

  If she doesn’t answer this door, I’m going to break it down, I think right before I hear movement.

  It’s a damn trailer. I could rip the shit off the hinges. What kind of game is she playing?

  “Pamela, I’m not fuckin’ around. You’re gonna tell me what’s going on. Open the door, dammit.”

  Shuffling, whimpering … She doesn’t answer.

  “Pamela, it’s Shooter. Look, the club just wants to know you’re okay. If you don’t want Boomer here, at least talk to me. We’re blind here, and that’s a fucked up place to put us. Open the door or we open it. Last chance.” Always the calm one, Shooter goes to his truck and comes back with a flat head screwdriver.

  We hear the sound of the back door slamming, and Shooter takes off to the noise while I shove the flat head into the lock and pop it. I am met with the resistance of a chain, and looking inside, my heart stops.

  Pamela is on the floor, face down, crawling to the couch to pull herself up. She is naked and bleeding from her face and neck.

  I throw my shoulder into the door and the chain flies off. I rush to her.

  Her swollen eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head back and forth as I approach.

  “No, Boomer, fucking no!” she screams.

  I drop to my knees, helpless in front of her.

  There is nothing to humble a man and bring him to the brink more than seeing someone he cares about violated in the worst of ways. It’s written all over her demeanor. How much has she endured?

  “Pami, please.” I drop my head into my hands. I need to touch her, to comfort her.

  “You need to leave, Boomer,” she says with each word cracking. “This isn’t about you or your club.” She moves around, getting dress
ed as I sit helplessly on my knees in her living room.

  When I notice her blood stains the carpet in front of me, I break a little more inside.

  “Pami, please let me help you.”

  “It’s my burden to bear,” she says, pulling on her pants and wrapping her cut shirt around her. “I need you to leave.”

  “Look at me,” I whisper, hearing Shooter come back inside. He stands in the end of her small hallway, and I shake my head to get him to stay. The last thing I need is for her to get more spooked.

  She finally looks at me.

  “He’s gonna die, baby. You need to know I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

  As tears fall down her face, she reaches out to touch my beard yet stops short. “Boomer, let it go. Let me go. This isn’t your problem.”

  Her words are like a knife to my heart. For the first time in forever, I feel something, and she is rendering me helpless. Emotions well inside me, tears threatening to fall. I am a man, but I am not strong enough to watch her being hurt.

  “Anybody give it to you better than me, Pami?” I ask her, knowing the answer. She told me time and time again and it wasn’t just the orgasms.

  “Boomer, let it go.”

  “You’re mine, Pami. You’ve been mine since the moment I breathed you in and you made my heart beat again. I’ve done bad things for stupid reasons. I’ve done good things for the wrong reasons. I’ve been to the edge of never and wondered why I was still breathing.

  “You, I’m still breathing for you. My heart is still beating for you. As broken as I am, I am who I am for you. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it whatever the fuck you want, but I was made for you. I was made for this moment. Nothing in my life will ever compare to being able to bring you back from the brink. Pami, please, I’m begging.” I let a tear fall. “Tell me what is going on and tell me who did it so they can pay, and baby, you can be safe.”

  She looks around as if she’s looking for him, and once she sees Shooter, she stops.

  “He’s gone. Went out the back door, probably because he was outnumbered, fuckin’ pussy.”

  Pamela slumps down onto the couch as if she has lost the world. Shooter doesn’t move, and when I start to, he shakes his head at me.

  “Been through this with Tessie, Pamela. You know that,” Shooter says calmly. “I need you to breathe through it.”

  I look at Pamela who has paled in front of me, and I watch as she starts shaking. It kills me not to comfort her, not to hold her, not to be able to tell her and show her it’s going to be all right. Somehow, some way, I will get her through this.

  “Gotta breathe, Pamela. Inhale,” Shooter tries to talk her down from the shock that is setting in. It’s not working, and dammit to hell, I need to do something.

  I move to the couch then pull her to me, and she screams out and beats on my chest.

  “Shh … Pami … shhh. It’s me, Boomer. Breathe, honey, breathe. You gotta breathe with me.”

  I take a deep breath as I hold her against me. It takes a moment, but she settles and begins to breathe with me. Then the sobs come, and I hold her through them. I don’t care if I am here in this very spot for the next week; I will hold her through it all.

  Shooter leans against the wall, typing a text, most likely to Doc Kelly so we can get Pamela checked out.

  I rub my hand over her hair, feeling myself calming as she relaxes against me.

  “He’s gonna kill me,” she whispers between crying hiccups. “He’s gonna kill me this time.”

  The words slice into my soul … this time. What has this woman lived through? Who the hell is this man?

  I swear on everything I believe in that I’m going to make him pay. She will be free and safe from him if it’s the last damn thing I do.

  ~Pamela~

  I was sure I was going to die today. I was certain, once he finished fucking me, punishing me, I was going to die at the hands of my husband.

  I sit up, pushing myself off Boomer, and promptly throw up all over my ugly, green carpet. Shame left the building the day Dennis burned his marks into my pussy.

  I should care that Shooter and Boomer have found me in the worst way possible. I should care that I puked all over my floor without trying to get to the bathroom. I should care about a lot of things. I don’t.

  The only thing that matters is my sons are safe … for now. He hasn’t found them. The level of violence he has resorted to today shows me he means me harm, and he doesn’t know where they are. He probably thought I would cave.

  He was wrong.

  Shooter and Boomer showing up stopped him from inflicting more damage, but there is no way I was giving up my sons, no matter what he did to me.

  As if it happens every day, Shooter goes into the kitchen and comes back with paper towels to clean up my mess. He then brings me a cup of water while Boomer moves my hair from my face and sits me on his lap.

  My body aches, but I don’t have the energy to make a sound.

  I want nothing more than a bath and to sleep. Then again, Dennis is probably watching, and the minute I’m alone again, he will come back and finish the job.

  What happens then? Who helps my mom with my boys? How will she get by? How will they get by? What will they think of me? How will my mom get the news? Is she strong enough to handle that?

  I look up to see Doll enter my house with a woman and a medical bag, and I freeze.

  Boomer is right there, whispering in my ear. “It’s gonna be all right. She’s just gonna help clean you up.”

  Clean me up. There is no help for the mess I have made. He’s talking about my broken nose and bloodied face. Sure, the good doctor can clean that, but who will clean up the mess of my life?

  “I’ve got kids,” I whisper to Boomer.

  Desperation and fear do something to a woman. I can take any level of pain. I can take any level of abuse for my boys. I have to be smart, though. I have to think ahead. I have to give them a backup plan. I have no one … except the Hellions. I have to take the leap of faith that, after Dennis finishes with me, they will keep my boys safe.

  “Figured that out by now, Pami.”

  “Boomer, I’ve got two boys—Wesson and Colt. He can’t get to them. No matter what, he can’t—”

  “He’s not, honey. He’s not. On everything I am, I give you my word no one will get to them. We’re gonna bring your boys home to you.”

  Tears roll down my face, and the salty liquid hits my busted nose and lips, making them burn.

  “They can’t come home. Promise me, Boomer. Keep them away. He’s gonna kill me this time.”

  Boomer’s grip on my hips tightens. “You aren’t going anywhere except to pack a bag and stay with me. Then I’ll get your boys home to you where they belong. This motherfucker will never lay another hand on you.”

  “He-he-he’s gonna win. He already has,” I sob.

  “He is not, and he has not! Trust me, Pamela. Trust me with your boys.”

  “They are living in a church parsonage at the coast,” I whisper, swallowing down the lump in my throat. “My mom has them at a small home meant for the pastor of the church in Stella.”

  Boomer glances at Shooter. “Call Tripp. Call a sermon. She’s my ol’ lady; those are my kids. Figure that shit out.”

  “She’s yours?” Doll questions Boomer, watching me.

  “That’s what I said. You want it in blood? I’ll give it to you. Those boys are mine; she’s mine. Now can we handle it?” Boomer drops his voice, trying to contain his emotions while Doll takes in the two of us.

  “Your boys are in Stella, you said?”

  After I nod, not understanding, the tiny blonde bites her bottom lip and makes a call.

  “Daddy, we need you.” That simple sentence changes my entire world before I can blink.

  She gets off the phone after sharing only the information of where my boys are and who my mother is.

  “Roundman and the Haywood’s Landing Hellions will have your mom and boys on our
compound within the hour. No one can get to them there.” Doll smiles proudly. “Can we get Doc Kelly to give you a once-over, please? Just to make me feel better.”

  I don’t move. I can’t.

  “Pamela, you’re a Hellion. Stella is so close to my dad they could walk to the church and get them if they wanted to. This is what families do. Please know my dad will lay down his life and every other patched member before they let anything happen to your mom and sons. I give you my word.”

  “How?” I ask, not understanding why they would want to help me.

  “Are you Boomer’s ol’ lady?” Doll asks, smiling.

  “Damn right she is,” Boomer barks out before I can answer.

  “So, last I checked, Boomer wears the cut; he earned his patch. He’s a Hellion, and you’re his woman. Ride or die, this is what we do … together.”

  She makes it sound so simple, yet I know it’s so much more than that.

  When she reaches out her small hand to me, I hesitate. I have been alone and afraid for so long. Is this the answer to my prayers? Is this the way to be with my boys again?

  I look over at Boomer, and with shaking hands, I cup his face, running my thumbs over his beard. “I’ve got kids, Boomer. I’ve got baggage by the boatloads. I don’t know how I feel about men after Dennis. I have scars on the inside and the out. Why are you taking this on?”

  He looks at me, his brown eyes meeting my gaze, and there is no reservation in them, only determination. “No kid should be without their momma when they have a strong as steel Momma like you. No woman should be broken by the hands or words of a man.

  “I’ve got my own baggage, Pami. I have scars on the inside and the out. I just want a chance to show you and your kids what it is to be free. I’ve spent my whole life seeking the freedom to be. While I’ve dedicated years to training and fought in wars in the name of giving freedom, I’ve never felt free for one moment of my life except when I’m with you.

  “No matter what the future holds, you’re mine and your kids are mine to protect and treasure. I just want the chance to give you freedom. I just want the chance for you simply to be you. Can I have that?”