Teller (Tarnished Souls MC Book 4)

by Dusty Lassetter

The moan that travels through the material cannot be heard, but my hand surely feels the vibrations it brings. Like I stated before, she enjoys our time together as much as I do. Removing my knee with a smirk on my face, I run my hand down to her panties and rip the thin fabric from her needy cunt with one solid tug. The belt keeps her from struggling too much. Whenever Krystle tries to wiggle away I can easily subdue her with a quick tug to the leather strap.

  “Stop,” she begins to cry. “Stop. Stop. Stop.”

  Bringing my hand down hard on her ass, she ends up arching from the force which in return stops the repetitive pleas from coming. It’s hard to talk when you are chocking. I close my eyes while unbuttoning my pants, and pulling down the zipper. It’s in that instant, I imagine a redhead struggling underneath me while begging for everything I’m willing to give her. Instead of opening my eyes to force my mind back to its reality, I keep my lids sealed shut. Using my sense of touch, I line myself up with her opening, and slam my way in one solid motion.

  The entire time she is moaning her pleasure, trying to fight me off, and meeting my thrust with ones of her own I think of Scarlett. I hear her voice, imagine her beneath me, and I even smell her scent. It’s here and now, I realize just how compromised I am. This girl has gotten under my skin, and there will be no digging her out now.

  Scarlett

  Tonight is a night for celebration. My new friend Serenity is engaged to Taz, her long-time crush, and Buck is throwing a small party to celebrate the new edition to his family. I think time has helped him deal with his VP becoming his son-in-law. At first, I thought he would kill Taz before he allowed them to be together. Now, I see how pleased he is because Serenity is happy. A good parent will always put their child’s happiness over theirs, and that is exactly what Buck did. If only my father would have been that way from the time I was born. By the time he wanted to become a good parent it was too late.

  “We need to go shower,” Teller grumbles out. The more I hear his voice, the less of a shock factor it has on me. The raw tone is still creepy, but it’s become an eerie I’ve learned to accept.

  “Why are we building a metal box?”

  The reason I ask the off-topic question is because he’s refused to answer me the last three times I’ve inquired about it. Teller had his brother’s bike pushed to the corner of the room, and the sheets of metal we’ve used to build this box put in its place when we walked in two days ago. That’s how long we have been working on this ridiculous thing.

  “Is it a tool box? Maybe it’s a new storage container?”

  Teller keeps his lips sealed as he takes off the welding helmet he was wearing, placing it down inside the box. Next, his thick gloves are thrown beside it. I follow his lead and take my helmet and gloves off, gently laying them beside his equipment. I want to tell him how much I’ve enjoyed learning about the art of welding and grinding down metal, but I choose not to give him the satisfaction when he won’t give me any by answering my question.

  “You’ve been acting strange,” I say to the man that has never acted normal. “Since I told you about my fear of needles, you have been acting like I admitted to having Ebola. Surely my story wasn’t that traumatic for you.”

  Without responding, Teller walks toward the door of the shop without looking back to make sure I am following him. My gut is telling me something is wrong, but I can’t put my finger on it. Perhaps, I did freak him out with my vivid memory. I just assumed a man like Teller has witnessed worse, but maybe I was wrong. Is it possible that this monstrous man is becoming distant because he’s feeling something other than obligation when it comes to me?

  Rushing forward to catch up, I place the question in the back of my mind for now. I will have plenty of time to obsess over it later. Right now, there is a party for me to attend. Hopefully, nothing goes wrong this time around. The last party this club had was for Torch’s birthday. Here’s to wishing this night ends differently.

  Teller has been missing for most of the night. I’ve caught sight of him a time or two, merely passing through the room like it’s his obligation instead of something he wants to do. Rebecca and Mia have been drinking while me and Sammy sit at the bar listening to their chaotic banter. It feels my heart with joy to see everyone having a good time, including Ashley and Irish. I’m not going to lie. I had my doubts about those two. It would be hard for anyone to overcome the things that went wrong in their relationship, but I’m glad they have. At least, that is what it looked like as he carried her toward the hallway that holds all the rooms.

  “Do you ever think about your future?”

  Sammy asks the question while staring at the handful of people dancing in the middle of the room. Mia is with Torch, and Rebecca is by herself trying to get the attention of Hammer, who has been watching her through the mirror above the bar. My guess would be, he is going to throw in his bartender rag before the next song comes on.

  “No, not really. I spent so much time convinced I wouldn’t have one. It’s hard to break myself from that mindset,” I answer honestly while trying to strategically look around the room for Teller. The last thing I want is for Sammy to notice what I am doing. There will surely be a lecture followed if she does. Thankfully, someone else walks up to us, and distracts her before she can figure anything out.

  “Sammy?”

  The tall man, who I’ve only met once, gives my friend a look that would have any other girl swooning. I’m sure most women find the two dimples that peek out from his smile both charming and sexy. Even his country drawl comes off smooth, like he has spent countless hours rehearsing the prefect way to say her name.

  “Yes,” she mumbles, surprising me with her ability to get that one word out. Sammy has never been good with being the center of attention to anyone, especially men interested in her. This gentleman they call Big Country is extremely tall. His hands are huge, his legs are long, and everything about him screams trouble.

  “Dance with me.”

  His tone suggests it’s a question, but the way he gestures for Sammy to place her hand in his hints at it being an order. I begin to awkwardly take a sip of my water, hoping she won’t turn to me for an excuse. I have no way, or desire, to help her out of this situation. Something tells me Big Country would be good for my shy friend. After all, it is just a dance.

  “Hammer,” the big man shouts loud enough to get the fill-in bartender’s attention. “Play George Straight.” With that said, he grabs Sammy’s hand, obviously not taking no for an answer, and leads her to the middle of the floor. Then, like the funny man Hammer is, he chooses a song that makes me laugh to myself. He must have noticed the look of panic on Sammy’s face as well. King George’s, “I just wanna dance with you,” starts rumbling through the speakers. The upbeat country music changes the mood in the room.

  Big Country has managed to clear the floor of all other dancers, and is twirling Sammy around like he was born to do so. The way he easily leads her with his fluid movements has everyone staring in their direction. Not only are we mesmerized by his moves, but the smile on Sammy’s face is one for the books. Regardless of whether she wanted to dance or not, she is enjoying herself.

  I become so caught up in watching the two of them that I don’t see Teller until he’s standing beside me with a look on his face I have never witnessed before. I immediately think about Saint, and a hollowness begins to form in my chest. Has something happened to Teller’s brother to cause that look of utter dread on his face.

  “Follow me,” he whispers in my ear.

  Without a single thought, I instantly obey his command. This man vowed to protect me the same day he claimed me in front of the club members. I have gotten to know him over the past few months. I would like to think I’ve grown on him as much as he has on me. So, like the fool I am I follow him through the main room, and out of the front entrance because I assume he needs to be away from all the noise to tell me what is going on.

  The sticky night air is the first thing I notice when we exit the
club. Then, Teller turns toward me with an odd emotion shadowed in his blue eyes. Taking a deep breath, I tell myself that I am just over analyzing the strange expression on his face. That there is not a tug-of-war battle being played out within his blue irises. As he closes the distance between us, I no longer hear the sound of the chirping crickets, or feel the humidity that briefly threatened to suffocate me. Warning bells the size of a minivan, start going off in my head. Taking a step back on instinct, I am not at all surprised when he reaches out to grab my arm. He applies enough pressure to keep me where he wants before I see the battle he was struggling with is no more. There is nothing but resolve shining in his cruel eyes, and every cell in my body is screaming at me to run.

  Slamming my knee into his groin, Teller loosens his grip enough for me to pull away. Turning around, I see the door to the clubhouse is only twenty feet away. All I need to do is run fast enough to make it back in the building. Then, I can holler out for help. Someone will hear me, I’ll make sure of it. As I start to make my getaway, the hairs on the back of my neck go ramrod straight. Sometimes this happens to people when they think they are being watched or followed. I happen to know I am being pursued.

  Step after step, just when I start to think I may actually make it to the door, Teller grabs me from behind. The force of his body slamming into mine causes me to lose my footing, and before I know it we are both falling to the ground. Right before impact, Teller twists us in the air. Instead of me landing on my face and him on top of me. His back is on the ground, and I am being firmly held to his chest. My instincts finally kick back in, and I begin to thrash from side to side, hitting him with my elbows and any other body part that can make contact. Precious seconds tick by before I realize the traitorous bastard is absorbing all the damage I’m trying to cause him.

  “This was the only way,” Teller growls before tightening his hold even more.

  I am quite familiar what the tiny pinch on the inside of my neck means. I’ve been stuck with enough needles to know that Teller has just drugged me. It’s then that a cold realization hits my bloodstream. The man I thought was going to protect me, was the one I should have been avoiding the entire time. Slasher obviously bought me, like he’s done to so many other people, and there is nothing I can do to change this outcome. Aware that I only have a few more seconds to move or talk, I decide not to waste any more of my precious time hitting him.

  “Once you get what he promised you, kill me. Don’t leave me with him alive.”

  After I’ve said my peace, I allow the medicine to freely take over. My eyelids grow heavy and close, all my limbs start becoming slack, and the blackness slowly begins to take over. If Teller did respond to my wish I wouldn’t know. The only thing I am capable of doing is falling further and further into the hole that is my conscious.

  Teller

  Present…

  Tate is waiting at our designated meeting area like we planned. This old gas station was the perfect spot to keep from being detected by any of the Tarnished Souls or Blacktop Sinners members. Buck and Slasher are both in the dark to what we are doing, and that is exactly what is needed to keep everything going as designed. Slasher is an evil bastard, and his street smarts are a big reason as to why he seems unstoppable. We needed to have everything planned out perfectly, all the way down to the last detail.

  At any given moment, Slasher has at least five guards surrounding him. At first, I thought the best way to go in there was with guns blazing, but Tate was adamant about there being a safer way. Not that I cared about getting out of there alive. I did, however, care about killing Slasher.

  Scarlett was a last resort. The original plan was to keep her out of it, and only use her as bait if I had no other choice. Tate informed me that Slasher would have all the men leave his house if she were to come home to him. That is how obsessed he is. The thought of any of his men looking at what is his truly pisses him off. I had to make a choice. It was either the girl or revenge for my brother. The choice wasn’t difficult. Not only do I love my brother, I also owe him my life.

  “Everything is going according to plan,” Tate announces once I step out of my SUV. He is waiting at the front of his truck, hands tucked into his pocket, unmistakably nervous. This is a big risk for him to take. Once his president has been taken out, their club could turn on him if they find out he had anything to do with Slasher’s disappearance.

  “Two hundred thousand dollars in cash,” he declares before leaning down to pick up a black duffle bag that was laying at his feet. When he closes the distance between us, I gesture for him to place the bag on the passenger side while I move a sleeping Scarlett from my vehicle to his.

  Easily taking her into my arms, I try to be careful. The less injuries she has from me, the better. It makes no sense for me to want to protect her, yet I’m still willingly handing her over to a man that scares her more than death. The last words she spoke before the drugs took her under was for me to kill her after I got what I wanted. Scarlett doesn’t know that I plan on torturing then killing Slasher. Her first instinct was to believe I had been bought. Given the circumstances, I can’t say I blame the lack of faith she has in me.

  Gently settling her into the small cab of Tate’s truck, I shut the door to be met with a curious look from my one-time partner. I can tell he wants to comment on the way I was just handling Scarlett, even perhaps the way I was looking at her, but wisely thinks better of it.

  “Just like we predicted he would Slasher’s placed three men just a mile down the road to take you out. They are on the same route you’ll need to take to your brother’s facility.”

  Nodding my head in understanding, I make my way back to my SUV. This is going to be a long night, and Tate needs to get Scarlett to Slasher before he gets suspicious. I need him to believe the exchange went as planned. Tate, his VP, has been the middle man between Slasher and myself. The story we told Slasher was really quite simple. I would bring him Scarlett in return for two hundred thousand dollars. The money is going to help me get Saint out of town because I’ve secretly been holding a grudge against my Tarnished Souls brothers for keeping Scarlett safer than they did my own blood. Anyone in the MC world knows that once you pledge your allegiance to your club there is no going back. You can’t just wake up one morning and try to leave. That is not how it works. There are debts to be paid before you can leave, and every one of them involve the skin off your back.

  Cracking my neck from side to side, I grab all the weapons I will need to take out Slasher’s men. I will leave my SUV parked here and sneak up on the soldiers waiting for me a mile up the road. Taking out three men by myself should be easy. To be honest, I don’t have a choice. I need to kill them before they can kill me. Scarlett’s life depends on my survival. I may have used her as bait, but I did so after convincing myself I would keep her from getting hurt. If everything goes to plan, Slasher will only have twenty minutes with her by himself. A lot can happen in twenty minutes. That is why I need to hurry up, and so does Tate. Hopefully, Scarlett’s time with Slasher will be spent sleeping off the extra-potent drug I used on her.

  Scarlett

  I’ve been awoken to the sound of Amelia softly crying to herself. It was just a week ago that Carlos and his men tossed her down here like yesterday’s trash. When the drugs they forced into her wore off, I was honestly concerned she was going to get herself killed. Kicking, screaming, and name calling is not something these men tolerate very well. Amelia was like a hurricane blowing through, wreaking havoc on everything. That is until there were too many for her to fight off, and she was forced to endure what no woman should. She hasn’t been the same since that night. The night they raped her.

  Grabbing the bottled water I have been saving for desperate times, I drag my naked and tired body across the floor to get closer to where she has laid down. The beating Carlos gave me tonight wasn’t nearly as bad as I’ve had in the past, but my limbs still hurt from the heels of his boots stomping down on them countless times.


  “Here,” I wince out from my sore throat. All the crying from earlier has made it painful to speak. While I could use this liquid to help soothe some of that rawness, my conscious is screaming at me to gift it to Amelia. She may not accept it, it’s not like this little bit of water will help much. I’m just hoping the gesture will make her feel better.

  “I’m sorry,” she cries. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  Up until this point, I have made sure to keep my distance from these girls that have been tossed down here with me. It’s not wise to get close to the women I share a cell with, but something about seeing a strong woman like Amelia reduced to a heaping pile of sorrow has pulled at my heartstrings.

  “You don’t need to apologize. I’ve been where you are.”

  My comment leads to Amelia turning her head enough to come face to face with me. Her dirty cheeks now have a couple of clean tracks on them from her wiping away the tears she no doubt hates to shed. “Scarlett, how old are you?”

  I debate on whether I should tell her or not. Turning this conversation into something too personal could be a giant mistake on my part. It’s safer, and smarter, to keep our details to a bare minimum. I don’t want to go down another rabbit hole. The second Carlos thinks he can use us against one another he will.

  “Amelia, it’s not wise for any of us to become friends,” I whisper. The fact that I am talking quietly should help her understand the truth in my words.

  “Mia,” she asserts. “Call me Mia.” After a long pause, I still have not responded. She takes a small drink from the bottled water I offered her before stating, “It may scare you, but the fact still remains the same. We all need each other...”

  “Scarlett.”

  Instead of waking up to hear the rest of Mia’s words, I am brought out of my deep sleep by an intense voice coming from above me. There is a fog surrounding my brain that has me wanting to press my inner terror button. Not knowing where you are, or who you’re with can have that effect on a person. Plus, the muscles in my neck won’t allow me to lift my head, and my eyesight is too blurry to see anything clearly. Pinching my eyebrows together, I rake through the last memories I have in my brain to help my figure out what is going on.