THORN: Lords of Carnage MC

by Daphne Loveling

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “What?” I snap back. “I have an itch.”

  “So practice mind over matter.”

  Cocky bastard. I huff in frustration and sit back, trying to get into a comfortable position. My feet are aching from the heels, and still a little swollen from the zip ties, and I take turns flexing them one by one.

  “Why the hell do you still have these things on?”

  “I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” I spit, “But until recently I wasn’t exactly in a position to take them off.”

  “Well, you are now.”

  “I don’t have any other shoes,” I point out.

  “Yeah, I noticed there aren’t any trainers in your shoulder bag,” he says wryly.

  At first I resist, but then realize the only person I’m hurting is myself. Grudgingly, I tip forward, reaching down to slip the straps of the sandals over my heels. The relief is instantaneous. I can’t suppress a sigh as I take a moment to massage first one foot, then the other.

  “Feel better?”

  Goddamnit. I hate having my every move watched like this. Especially when I can’t see a damn thing.

  “Are you seriously going to make me wear this hood forever?”

  “Not forever. Just until we get where we’re going.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then there won’t be anything for you to see.”

  My stomach flops unpleasantly. Mind racing, I picture myself locked up in a basement somewhere, with no windows and now way to get out. I’m already feeling a little car sick, and the fear makes it worse. I start to take deep breaths again, willing myself not to throw up.

  “You all right?”

  “I’m fine.” I won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing this is getting to me.

  “Good, good,” he says, clearly amused. “Settle back and enjoy your flight, then.”

  Fuck you! my mind screams at him. Huffily, I turn away from his voice, making a point to give him my back to make my message clear. But as I do, I feel a slight tug around my neck, and then the whisper of something sliding down my chest and under my dress.

  “Oh, no!” I gasp. Quickly, I reach up, fast enough that the man barks at me.

  “No sudden moves!”

  Instantly, I freeze, then continue more slowly. I start to reach a hand inside my cleavage, but suddenly I’m grabbed roughly around my wrist. I gasp as his fingers lock around my tender flesh.

  “What the hell are you playing at?” he growls suspiciously.

  “Nothing!” I stammer. “I swear! I’ve just… my necklace! I think the clasp broke. It slipped down inside my bra.” My cheeks begin to flame.

  “You sure you’re not hiding a knife of something in there, looking for your chance to pull it out?” he replies, his voice hard and knowing. “It won’t go well for you to cross me, girl.”

  “I was wearing a necklace!” I try again desperately. “Didn’t you notice it? Can’t you see it’s gone?” My voice breaks. “Please! It means a lot to me! I can’t lose it!” Under the hood, my eyes fill with tears, and I’m almost grateful my face is covered so he can’t see me start to cry. “Please, just let me get it!”

  “Sorry, can’t take that chance.” I hear his body shift.

  “But…”

  “Keep your hands where they are.”

  I open my mouth to try again, but as I do, the touch of a hand on my neck makes me jump and freeze in confusion. Warm, strong fingers slide against my skin, moving aside the fabric of my dress. I want to protest — to pull away — but the man’s touch, rough and soft at the same time, makes me shiver. Moving lower, he pauses. My breath catches in my throat as he cups my breast, grazing my nipple.

  I stifle a moan.

  I don’t know if the fear I’ve been feeling for the last couple of hours is making my nerve endings more sensitive, but the touch of this stranger’s hand sends a jolt of pleasure through me that takes me completely by surprise. Somehow, suddenly, I’m instantly wet. Shamefully turned on.

  The buzzing in my ears is nearly deafening as the man slowly withdraws his hand. The whisper of warm metal against my skin is like an echo of his presence.

  “Here,” he mutters. He takes my hand and drops the necklace into my palm.

  I hold onto it tightly for the rest of the ride. The little arms of the starfish prick my skin, just painful enough to be reassuring. Just painful enough to let me focus on the sensation of it — and to try to forget about what just happened when my captor touched me.

  6

  Thorn

  The safe house is on the banks of the Connegut River. It’s the only structure around for miles. There’s no mailbox at the end of the drive leading up from the gravel road. In fact, there’s not much of a driveway at all. Most people would pass right by it and never even notice it was there. Which is by design.

  The house itself is more of a cottage. It’s rustic, small and simple, with dark wood siding and a small porch out front overlooking the river. The sort of thing I remember seeing in American films when I was a little tyke. It would be a good fishing cabin, I suppose. If I fuckin’ fished.

  I don’t know how long the Lords have owned this place. Hell, I don’t even know if we do own it. All I know is that members of the club have been coming up here for years. To get away from things, or to hide out for a while. The place has just enough room to be cramped as shit if there’s more than a couple people here, but it’s a perfect spot if you want to disappear for a while and not be found.

  It’s also fucking boring as shit out here.

  It’s still pitch black out when we arrive at Connegut. The clock on my mobile says it’s just after three-thirty in the morning. Sun will be up in a few hours. I let out a sigh of disgust as Gunner comes to the end of the weed-ridden drive and pulls up next to the house. I don’t know what the fuck I’ve done to deserve this sort of punishment.

  “Here we are, safe and sound,” Gunner announces. He looks back at me with a grin and I flip him off.

  Beast yanks open the side door and gets out. Without waiting for Isabel to comply, I reach for her arm and slide her toward me. Predictably, she resists.

  “What the fuck are you doin’?” I ask irritably. “There’s nowhere to go. You don’t have a choice.”

  “I always have a choice,” she hisses, her voice muffled by the bag.

  I sigh again and shake my head, then reach over and lift her physically out of the van. She starts to struggle, but I pretend to drop her and she yelps and reflexively throws her arms around my neck. Chuckling, I fling her over my shoulder and carry her the rest of the way into the house. She makes little outraged noises the whole way there, like a pissed off kitten.

  The house hasn’t been used in a while, and the musty smell of it assails my nostrils the second I’m inside. I reach over to flip on the light switch next to the front door. A lone, anemic bulb gives off just enough illumination to see the state of the place. It’s dusty, and sparse, and pretty much the way I remember it from the last time I was here.

  Behind me, Beast walks in, carrying a large box of supplies. “Gun’s bringing your stuff in,” he tells me.

  “Thanks.” I toss Isabel’s body a little roughly onto the couch. She immediately scooches herself to the furthest end of it and draws her knees up defensively toward her chest.

  Beast nods toward the girl. “You gonna be good here?”

  “Yeh.” There’s no way Isabel is going to get very far out here, even if she tries to escape. She has no shoes to speak of, and at the moment her only clothing is a tight mini-dress that barely covers her tits or her ass. She has no fucking idea where she is. Even if she managed to get loose, in this cold early November weather she’d get hypothermia from exposure, eaten by a wolf, or abducted by some horny, crazy prepper living out here in a shed before she ever managed to find her way back to civilization. I just have to convince her it’s not worth the effort. In the meantime, I’ll keep her tied up whenever I ca
n’t keep an eye on her, until she figures out what’s what.

  Gunner comes in a few seconds later carrying my duffel and a couple of paper bags. “Toss them over in that corner,” I tell him. Beast is throwing perishables into the fridge, which he’s just plugged in. I’m glad for the help getting us sorted, though soon I’ll have nothing to do but stare at my feet, so I tell them to leave it. “I’ll get the rest later.”

  “Want some help with her?” Beast asks.

  “Yeh, I suppose so.” I walk over to the couch and reach down to remove the hood, which we don’t need anymore. I grasp the fabric and lift.

  The sight of her almost knocks me off my feet.

  Sitting in front of me is possibly the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. She squints and turns her face away briefly, unaccustomed to even this weak light. But when she turns back to look at me, her flashing dark eyes with their arched brows bore into mine, her expression both a challenge and a promise. Thick, luscious dark hair tumbles past her shoulders in disarray, framing the gorgeous olive skin of her face. A light sprinkling of freckles dots an even, pert little nose. He lips… oh, Jesus, her lips. They’re full and bee-stung, free of lipstick, a little parched, and just begging to be kissed. My mouth fairly waters just to look at them.

  My eyes travel back down to the swell of her breasts — the breasts I felt through the fabric of her bra only an hour ago. My cock jumps to attention, and in an instant I’m so hard it’s almost painful. Clearing my throat, I look back up at her face, which is flushing a pretty shade of pink. She’s thinking of it, too, I can tell.

  This is the girl I’ll be spending every minute of every day with for days and weeks on end. With no other charge than to keep her safe… and to stay the hell away from her.

  Jesus Christ, I need a smoke. Or a drink. Or a bottle.

  “What?” she shoots at me, tossing her head defiantly.

  “Nothing,” I mutter. I glance toward a straight-back chair sitting next to the couch and turn to Beast. “Let’s put her there for now.”

  “What?” she challenges. “You too scared to leave me loose? Afraid I’ll overpower you and get away?”

  “No,” I snarl, getting right up in her face until she flinches. “I’m worried you’re too stupid to realize that if you try to escape, you’ll die out there before you ever manage to find another human being.”

  Anger is the only way I’m going to manage this. Which is fine, because suddenly I’m fucking furious. “Beast!” I order. “Put her in the chair. I’m going out to the van for some rope.”

  I stomp outside, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself once I’m out on the porch. Gunner’s just bringing the last of the supplies in and passes me on the stairs.

  “You gonna be good out here?” he asks.

  “Why the Christ is everyone asking me that?” I explode, resisting the urge to punch something.

  “Because you look like someone just killed your pet hamster,” Gun laughs.

  “Fuck you,” I glower. I storm over to the van and grab the long coil of nylon rope. I head back inside, where Isabel is now sitting, barefoot and bare-legged, on the straight-back chair. She flashes me a look of pure loathing, which actually makes me smile tightly. Even though the fact that her head is at my waist level makes me want to fist my hand in her hair and fuck that pretty mouth of hers.

  Beast goes outside to bum a fag off Gunner, leaving me alone with the girl.

  “Give me your wrist,” I say.

  The girl puts her hands in her lap and looks up at me, narrowing her eyes.

  I reach down without a word and grab one of her hands. She tries to pull away, and I yank her roughly enough that I know it hurts her a little.

  “Ouch,” she complains.

  “Shut up and do as you’re told.” I tie the rope tightly around her wrist.

  “Or what?” Isabel juts out her chin. “My father…”

  “Your father isn’t my prez. And he isn’t here.”

  “Why are you…”

  “None of your damn business,” I cut her off. “I don’t care what happens to you. I don’t care if you’re comfortable or happy. I’m here to do my job. And my job is to make sure you don’t get killed. That’s all.”

  “Who would be trying to kill me?” she tosses back, eyes flashing.

  “None of your business.”

  “It’s none of my business why I’m being held against my will?”

  “No.”

  “God, you’re infuriating.”

  “Good. Maybe you’ll get tired of trying to talk to me, then.”

  I reach down without bothering to ask and grab her other wrist. The necklace she’s still holding falls to the floor. Reflexively, she bends down, but I pull her back up.

  “Stay still,” I bark. I realize I’m about to tie her hands in front of her, and that there’ll be nothing to tie her to that way. Fuck, I can’t think straight around this girl. Cursing under my breath, I go behind the chair and kneel. I bind her wrists behind her, tightly enough that she can’t get out of them, but not so tight as to hurt her. When that’s done, I come back to the front and take hold of her ankle. Her foot is ice cold.

  “Goddamnit,” I seethe, “why didn’t you tell me you were cold?”

  She actually laughs. “I didn’t know you cared.”

  Fucking Christ. I cross the room to my duffel and dig out a clean pair of my socks. Pulling them on her one by one, I tie her ankles securely to the chair legs. When I’m done, I stand up, not looking at her, and go out to the porch.

  “All right. She’s set.”

  “You gonna…” Beast starts to ask.

  “Get out of here,” I interrupt him angrily. “And Gunner, for Christ’s sake, bring her back some clothes as soon as you can.”

  “Will do.”

  I stand and watch them leave, until the red from their taillights disappears into the dark. Shaking my head at my fate, I turn and go back inside.

  Isabel is there, tied up all in a bow like a fuckin’ present. Looking at me with those eyes of hers.

  “What now?” she smirks. I have to admire her pluck.

  “Now, I’m gonna get some shuteye,” I tell her, going over and flicking off the light switch. The room is plunged into darkness. “I haven’t had any sleep tonight, thanks to you.”

  “What am I supposed to do?” I can only see her silhouette, but her voice is outraged.

  “None of my concern,” I shrug. Lying down on the couch, I stretch out to my full length and close my eyes. Suddenly I’m fuckin’ exhausted. “Just do your best not to try to escape. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

  7

  Isabel

  Within minutes, the man’s asleep, snoring softly. As though I wasn’t even here.

  For some reason, the most infuriating part of all of this is being left here in the dark. Like I’m some sort of inanimate object. I sit, seething, imagining all sorts of revenge that I will exact on him once I somehow get myself free. Experimentally, I wriggle my hands and feet, looking for any looseness in the ropes, but it’s no use. Clearly he knows how to tie a knot that won’t fail.

  Minutes pass. Then more minutes. I don’t know how long I wait, listening to his snores and the sound of my own breathing. My butt falls asleep, and I shift uncomfortably and try to wake it back up.

  As mad as I am, without an audience for my anger, it kind of starts to dissipate after a while. This is the first time since I was abducted by Dad’s men that I haven’t been mostly occupied by fighting back fear and dread. I take a deep breath and look around at my surroundings. They’re mostly obscured by the dark, illuminated only by the small amount of moonlight coming in through the windows. I squint over at the small kitchen, and then look around at the living room with its threadworn furniture. It would almost be quaint and cozy here, with the right company. And if I wasn’t being held against my will.

  My eyes drift back to the man asleep on the couch. Even in sleep, his body still seems vigilant, somehow. Aw
are. As though he’d be up and ready to fight in a split second at the slightest sound. In the pale moonlight, I contemplate his features. The dark, heavy brows. The long, straight nose. The shadow of a beard framing sensuous lips. He’s extremely handsome, in a rough, unpolished way.

  When he’s awake, the man’s eyes are dark, brooding. Haunted, almost. He is clearly angry that he has to watch over me. He doesn’t want to be here.

  That makes two of us.

  I know nothing about the man except what the rockers tell me on his cut. Like the other two men who brought me here, he’s wearing the colors of the Lords of Carnage MC. I don’t know anything about them, except that they’re a rival club to the Death Devils. I sure as hell didn’t know my dad was friendly with them. I wish I knew why he chose them instead of his own club to guard me.

  Probably just to get me out of Oz’s hair, I think bitterly. Out of sight, out of mind. He’s never been interested in being a father. He’s never really cared that much at all about my life. I imagine if I’d been a boy, maybe he’d have taken more of an interest. He could have brought a boy up to be part of the MC. He could have groomed him to be president of the club someday. But a girl? She’s just an inconvenience. Just someone to lock away and keep safe, so her priceless honor and purity will stay intact.

  Snorting in disgust, I shiver and flex my muscles to increase the blood flow. As much as I’m able, I bring my arms closer to my body. It’s cold in here. I heard the heat kick in a little while ago, though, so I’m hoping it’ll warm up eventually. Glancing at the empty fireplace, I can’t help longing for a fire to cozy up to.

  I wiggle my toes, and think about the socks on my feet. About the feel of the man’s hands on my skin as he pulled them on.

  His rough hand on my breast as he searched for my necklace…

  I shiver again, but this time it has nothing to do with the cold.

  Somehow, I eventually manage to fall asleep in the chair. When I wake up, it’s light. There’s a mighty crick in my neck, so painful when I try to move it that I wince.