Biting Back: A Motorcycle Club, Shifter, Romance (Shifting Steel Book 1)

by Stephanie West

  “Calm. Think.”

  There was no way she could reach the tire iron that was likely beneath the floor panel she lay on. Ambitious thoughts since Adrian was still bound. Maybe she could wiggle enough to free a hand from the blanket tied tightly around her.

  Then the car stopped.

  “Fuck! Oh God.”

  Hank

  “Well isn’t this a surprise.” Hank said as he opened the trunk lid.

  Two terrified eyes peered up at him. Apparently this bitch didn’t even have the courtesy of dying like she was supposed to.

  “Well now what?” Hank thought.

  Maybe he could have a different kind of fun this evening, the chick wasn’t bad to look at.

  Then again there was definitely something different and freaky about the bitch. Between the things she’d told his mother and the shit she’d mumbled in her sleep, Hank was unnerved.

  No one had witnessed the altercation he’d had with his tattle tale sister so long ago. Hank had needed a bit of cash and it was doubtful Mom would’ve missed it. He had to shut his sister up or the little girl would wake the old lady, blabbing about how he’d taken money from her purse.

  Well anyway there were definitely no witnesses to what he had done. Since then he’d learned a lot about what to do and not do with a body, and his job generally afforded him a steady outlet on worthy scum.

  An idea popped into Hank’s head. Maybe he’d take the freaky girl in his trunk to the fights and see just how well that creepy mind of hers worked. It’s not like anyone there would bat an eye. Then who knows what else. He had a house in the burbs, which afforded him a bit of privacy, along with a basement. People disappeared all the time, he knew that first hand. She flinched as his fist came towards her face.

  “Good night.”

  It was just past midnight and the warehouse seemed quiet but Hank knew better. He’d followed this operation around for several weeks trying to find a deeper way in. There was more cash to be had here than the meager shit he might get from betting as a spectator. The fucking Reapers, the motorcycle gang, didn’t seem to be interested however, and he’d offered some pretty golden shit like body disposal and “legal representation”. It was time to awaken Sleeping Beauty and see if she was in fact his new lucky charm.

  Adrian

  Adrian aroused with a cry as a slap fell across her already abused face. Her eyes shot wide to discover the sadistic asshole, Hank, leering at her.

  “What fresh hell waits for me?” Adrian bemoaned, trying desperately to hold her abject terror at bay. “Don’t freak out! Remain calm.” Adrian attempted to soothe herself. “The adrenalin that comes with fear will make you do dumb shit. Watch, pay attention and wait for your opportunity to escape. As long as you are still alive there is hope to be had.” She tried to rally silently.

  Hank peered at her, bent down and started peeling off the blanket. Adrian tried to crouch further back in the trunk only to have him yank her arm, pulling her out onto the pavement. She stumbled but didn’t fall since he still gripped her tight.

  “I hope you like boxing Princess, cuz you’re going to help me pick my fighters tonight. And if you do a good job I might keep you around.” Hank smirked.

  Adrian didn’t know shit about boxing but she’d do whatever it took to keep Hank from strangling the life out of her again. Her neck and throat throbbed from his first attempt. Adrian had no doubt Hank would finish the job if she didn’t do what he demanded.

  They stood outside a rundown three story warehouse that took up most of the block in a shitty industrial neighborhood. As Hank pulled Adrian along she stubbed her bare foot on the curb.

  “Watch for glass.” Adrian admonished herself as she noted the dozens of broken windows.

  Thank God she’d worn sweats and a hoodie to bed, it was bone numbing cold out. Adrian tugged her hood up with her free hand. Her body ached but the liquid fire adrenalin that burned through her veins no doubt dulled most of the pain. It screamed run. It screamed fight. Mostly it made her nauseous.

  The warehouse lights cast ominous shadows as they entered the old factory. The disturbing vibe increased the further Hank led her into the building and so did the raucous sounds of a crowd of people somewhere inside. A frisson of fear spiked through her at what awaited. Hank had said boxing. Adrian hoped to god she wouldn’t be one of the competitors.

  The stench of stale beer, sweat, mold and probably piss, assaulted her senses. But those weren’t the worst scents that greeted her. The air was tinged with the distinctive smell of death, likely a rat decomposing in some dark corner. Adrian refused to dwell on the fact it could be coming from more than some poor stray dead animal.

  Something caught Adrian’s right foot, a spike of pain shot through her making her gasp. Adrian stumble again, only to be yanked harder.

  “Now I’m sure that I’m bleeding.” Adrian thought to herself. “Hello tetanus. The least of my concerns. Shut-up, shut-up, shut-up, God I babble.” Her mind could never seem to shut-up. “Just keep shuffling along.” Adrian moved suppressing her pain.

  Adrian wanted to yank out of Hank’s grasp, but the dirty fucking cop had already tried to kill her once so she had no illusions. He’d put a bullet in her head the moment she gave him the least bit of trouble.

  “Why, why had this happened?” Adrian cursed the hand fate had dealt her.

  This was not the time to rage at existence, to question why awful things happened to good people. She’d seen it happen time and time again, yet never fathomed she’d be on the receiving end of something so sadistic.

  Hank abruptly stopped and Adrian nearly ran into a giant of a man standing like a soldier in front of a metal set of double doors. The man had dark brown eyes and spiked black hair. There were tats peeking out from the t-shirt at his chest and he had a pierced eyebrow. The massive man looked feral and grim. He wore a leather jacket covered with a hooded figure and scythe. Reapers M/C was emblazoned across it along with the name Trip.

  The moment Adrian’s mind uttered the name a million thoughts assailed her. What stood out the most was the memory of the gargantuan man in front of her falling over a body, and lucky for him, avoiding a bullet in the process. That must have been how he got the odd name.

  The man looked Hank over but hardly seemed to notice Adrian, her face remained downcast. She glanced up to see Trip smirking at her bare feet. The biker sniffed then his dark piercing eyes swung to Hank stopping him cold.

  “Next time you bring the Sweet Butt make sure she’s got some fucking shoes.” Trip’s voice held menace as he glared at Hank.

  If her situation had been different Adrian might have smiled at how he knocked Hank down a notch or two. The comment he’d made gave her the feeling that the giant man wasn’t a complete dick, but that did nothing to trump the scary as fuck vibe Trip exuded.

  Regardless of her improper attire the biker let them pass. It was unlikely Adrian would find an ally here. Hank probably knew half the degenerates that milled about and clustered around a chain linked cage in the middle of the large room.

  Again a dozen strange thoughts zipped through her as she looked at the crowd. Adrian almost paused in an attempt to assess these new sensations until Hank pulled her further into the room. Emotions and visions swirled around the various people she was ushered past. It was overwhelming in its intensity.

  Something about her was very different. She wasn’t usually bombarded by so many details about an individual at one time. Since Adrian had awoken after Hank had strangled her, she’d felt countless things, the strongest being pain and abject fear. But this was different.

  Adrian took another look around the populated warehouse and she let it sink in that the volume on her “gift” had clearly been cranked way up. Not that she heard voices, generally, she wasn’t schizophrenic. It was more like an instant knowing, visions similar to a memory that was her own, yet not. It hung like a fog over everyone, she just had to look at them.

  Adrian nearly ran into a guy wea
ring a dirty red plaid shirt, his stringy unwashed dishwater blonde hair hanging past his chin in greasy waves. His grimace revealed rotten teeth. She didn’t need her gift to tell her the man had a meth problem.

  “Watch where you’re going bitch.” The addict groused as he itched at his neck. “Oh man Hank I’m sorry, I didn’t know she was with you.” The guy shifted nervously from one foot to another nearly trampling her bare toes.

  “Curtis. I thought you were fighting tonight.” Hank replied with a look of distaste.

  “No.” The tweaker spat. Adrian tried to back up but Hank held her arm tight. “The fucking Reapers just laughed at me.”

  “Is that so.” Hank laughed bitterly.

  Adrian looked around to see several large men, wearing leather jackets or vests decorated with the grim hooded character. The biker gang probably didn’t want to clean up the dead stoner’s body if they allowed him to fight. It didn’t really matter since Curtis didn’t have long for this world. The revelation wasn’t new, but the fact she could see something so clearly that likely wouldn’t occur for days or weeks was.

  As she looked at the scary bikers Adrian saw bits and pieces of information about them. But there was something odd about them. She’d latch onto an impression only to have it dissipate into the shadows of her mind.

  Any other time Adrian would’ve felt as if she was seeing things as usual, but the moment Adrian had entered this room with all its people she’d sensed so much more than she usually did. So the fact she couldn’t get a good read off the large bikers was bizarre and disconcerting. Adrian was startled as Hank started tugging her away from the creepy drug addict.

  Hank led Adrian to the cage in the middle of the large room and pointed out two guys. The one in shorts with a bare chest was muscled and tatted up, a screaming skull on his bicep. He looked incredibly strong next to his wiry competitor in dark jeans. Adrian looked at them closely as Hank leaned in.

  “Pick a winner.” Hank’s nasty breath made her recoil.

  Just maybe she could do this, pick a champion, and earn herself a reprieve. Adrian studied the two men. As she looked at the larger musclebound fighter in shorts she asked the question.

  “Who’s the winner?” She begged her gift.

  The word “Loss” surfaced in her mind, so she pointed to the smaller wiry guy in jeans as the winner.

  “We’ll see.” Hank snorted.

  The fighting started. It wasn’t just boxing, more like no holds barred. The fighters circled throwing punches and kicks to the pleasure of the crowd. Both earned bloody blows which made Adrian cringe. It was disgusting to witness blood mixed with sweat dripping down busted noses and split eyebrows.

  They stood so close to the cage the metallic scent of spilled blood wafted their way making Adrian want to gag.

  The bigger guy pinned the other and Adrian wondered if she’d been wrong. Hank let her know he’d opted to not bet on the guy she’d chosen.

  Just as soon as he uttered those words the darker wiry guy twisted out from under the other brute. Next thing Adrian knew the guy in jeans grabbed the big man by the hair slamming his face into the concrete floor. Adrian thought the fight was over except the wiry guy maintained his grip and repeatedly rammed the larger mans head into the floor. There was a sickening crunch as the fighter continued his psychotic onslaught. Adrian gasped as blood sprayed and started to pool. The big man ceased to move. The crowd erupted with maniacal excitement as the smaller guy was declared the victor.

  Adrian had watched people die but never had she seen anyone killed, and she knew this was death she’d just witnessed. Adrian stood staring in shock. This wasn’t just a fight, it was a death match.

  Hank cursed and punched the cage beside her head causing Adrian to scream. Her terror wasn’t heard over the twisted, excited din of the crowd. Even if anyone had witnessed her burst of fear, it was doubtful anyone would’ve come to her aid, not here.

  No one saw the shadow of the fighter, the spirit, that stared at his own body being dragged out. Adrian did, and it only became clearer if she shut her eyes. Adrian looked around, surely the apparition was seen by someone else. But no, no one saw what she did. The dead fighter had earned himself a ticket to the next life on a fast train.

  People had strange views of the after-world. Adrian really didn’t have a clear picture herself. What she knew was that there was “something more.” People didn’t just cease to be. God didn’t damn the evil to “Hell.” People who enjoyed living in the sewer during their life continued to do so in death. If you couldn’t find the good when it surrounded you in this world, you gravitated towards what you knew and preferred in the next.

  Hopefully the man’s spirit would choose to embrace the greater things that encompassed his soul and move towards the light, but it was doubtful.

  The evening’s entertainment continued as it started. Hank became increasingly giddy, betting larger amounts of cash. Before Adrian knew it, but not nearly soon enough, she was led back out of the warehouse and shoved into Hank’s trunk. Adrian curled into a ball dreading her fate.

  Hank

  Hank pulled his little goldmine out of the trunk in his garage.

  “What are you going to do to me?” She whined.

  He ignored her pathetic struggles and incessant desperate question. Hank led her to the basement and started to cuff her to the column when the freaky bitch lashed out.

  Of course a slap to her red little face would solve some of that, so he thought until she started to struggle more frantically.

  Hank got her wrist secured to the support column anyway. The bitch continued to thrash, kicking him hard.

  “You stupid fucking whore!” Hank yelled, each word punctuated by a kick to her stomach.

  Adrian’s breath left her on a whoosh and a cry as tears streamed down her face.

  “That’s better. You will do everything I want.” Hank gritted out. The bitch had landed a solid kick to his shin and it fucking smarted. At least it wasn’t his balls. “I see some great things in our future, so you be nice to me Lucky Charm and I’ll be nice to you.”

  His little goldmine wasn’t hard on the eyes, a little thick and a bit older than the whores he liked to frequent for complimentary favors, but not ugly.She had long brown hair and a pair of creepy green eyes that almost glowed. She probably had nice tits.

  Hank reached down, wrenched at her sweatshirt and grabbed one perky globe.

  Adrian started babbling crazy things about “Spirits watching” “don’t anger them” and Hank took a step back. He looked around the dim basement but saw nothing.

  The witch pulled off an insane winning streak for him tonight. Maybe he’d be better off if he didn’t damage the goods any further.

  Adrian

  Adrian didn’t sleep as she huddled on the cold concrete floor of Hank’s basement. It was hard to determine how many days she’d been shackled to the metal column. There were no windows in the basement, so she couldn’t tell what time of day or night it might be.

  Adrian rubbed at her raw wrist with her free hand. The skin was so abraded it throbbed. Her ribs still hurt from Hank kicking her, but at least he hadn’t raped her.

  She needed to use the bathroom but looking at the rank bucket Hank left her to use made her gag. At least she wasn’t left to squat on the bare concrete floor.

  Adrian heard the door click. She quickly closed her eyes and calmed her breathing despite her fear. If Hank thought she was sleeping maybe he would leave. That was how it had been the last few times he visited.

  Something dropped onto the floor by her head then she heard footsteps retreat again.

  Adrian cracked open her eyes to see the PB&J sandwich in a bag and a bottle of water. Adrian quickly grabbed the bottle and cracked it open. She was parched. Despite how dirty her hands were Adrian ripped into the sandwich with voracity. Hank hadn’t fed her much. She’d never been a fan of PB&J but the sandwich tasted like heaven. Adrian had a new appreciation for the people of the world
who suffered from starvation.

  She sat with a semi-full stomach and her mind started to contemplate ways to free herself from this nightmare. Adrian wasn’t able to work her wrist free and she probably couldn’t pick the lock even if she had one of the many tools that were scattered on the workbench on the other side of the basement.

  As Adrian considered the problem she yawned feeling more exhausted than she had since being dumped in the concrete prison. Her fear and adrenalin had made it too hard to sleep. As her eyes drooped Adrian realized something was wrong. Her head nodded and she found it increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open.

  “Fuck!” Adrian cried.

  Hank had drugged her. Fear clawed at her gut as the sedative pulled her into darkness.

  “You fucking nasty cunt.” The menacing words and slap against her cheek roused Adrian but she couldn’t get her lethargic body to move as Hank dragged her through his house.

  Her feet scraped against the floor, his arm biting into her sore chest as he gripped her in one arm and tugged her along.

  “Nasty bitch. I can’t believe you pissed yourself.” Hank muttered as he entered the bathroom.

  Hank hefted her over the rim of the tub and let her flop into the basin. Despite the drugs coursing through her Adrian started to shake in terror as Hank turned on the sprayer. The tremors only increased as he started stripping her dirty sweats from her body.

  “Wash” Hank demanded as he threw a cloth and a bar of soap down at her.

  The water pelted her naked body. Adrian knew she needed a bath but the drugs and Hank staring at her as he sat on the toilet made it near impossible. She forced her shaking hand to obey as she gripped the washcloth and ran it over her skin as she lay slumped against the back of the tub. Hank smirked at her slow progress. He stood up with a huff and yanked the cloth from her tentative grasp.

  “Pathetic” He groused as he tugged one of her arms up and scrubbed her pit, then the other.

  He got a twisted look in his eyes as he grabbed her ankle and yanked her legs apart. His fingers bit into her thighs as he pulled at her labia. Adrian nearly cried out as Hank practically shoved the bar of soap into her vagina. Adrian turned her head so he wouldn’t see the tears that streamed down her face as his fingers worked roughly over her intimate flesh. Obviously the story she’d concocted about the spirits getting angry with him was only so much of a reprieve.