“Dirty disgusting bitch.” Hank railed at her.
Adrian wanted to yell at him, he’d be dirty too if he was forced to use a bucket without any toilet paper. Instead she hugged herself as he finished. Hank took a perverse pleasure in making sure her vagina and ass were squeaky clean, shoving his fingers where they didn’t belong.
Finally he seemed satisfied and shut off the water. Adrian’s hair still hung in a matted mess, only slightly cleaner for having been rinsed. Hank didn’t bother to give her a towel, just tossed her wet clothes at her. At least they were a bit cleaner now too.
Once she was dressed in her old damp clothes Hank dropped a pair of sneakers at her feet. They were a size too small and abraded the cut she had on the bottom of her instep. But they were better than nothing she guessed. The fact Hank gave her shoes could only mean one thing. They were going back out.
Adrian’s teeth chattered in the cold Chicago night air as they walked to the same awful warehouse. Her only reprieve had been the heat running in Hank’s car. Thank god he let her ride in the back seat since she promised to stay down under a blanket. It had given her hair and clothes a chance to dry for a bit, otherwise they’d both be ice cubes.
She’d been such a fool to hope that if she did well picking out winners that Hank would maybe set her free. Why would he, she’d given him incentive to do the exact opposite.
As they approached the double set of doors that led to the interior there was a different biker guarding them than the last time. This big brute wore a similar jacket as Trip, except his hair was long and blonde, his eyes blue.
Adrian studied him unobtrusively. His name was Eric, like the Viking. She nearly snorted as the thought came to her. It seemed an appropriate moniker.
Eric admitted them with barely a glance and they entered the large space with the caged in fighting ring. There was already a match finishing up.
Thankfully not all the matches ended in death.
There were no real rules to the cage fights, it seemed the winner could show mercy if he desired. Also shots below the belt were apparently taboo. Leave it to men. You can bludgeon a man to death, but by God he better reach the next world balls intact.
The current victor pumped his fist into the air as he was declared victor while his opponent staggered off with a viscous cut over his eye and a broken nose that bent sideways.
The evening progressed just as the last one had. The sound of the bones in one man’s nose crunching under the force of a blow to his face, as the shards penetrated his brain, killing him, made Adrian wretch and nearly puke on the floor.
The fighting was brutal and it disgusted her but Adrian was glad that only one man had been killed so far. It was one too many, but it was better than the three she’d witnessed last time. Surely the evening was almost over, not that she was ready to get back to her basement prison, but at least there she only had one murdering asshole to deal with.
A sound erupted across the room and Adrian turned to see what was going on. Hank pulled her along, pushing past the crowd that ringed the melee. An impromptu fight had broken out from the sounds of it. As Hank tugged her closer, Adrian could see three of the giant scary bikers, one of them was Trip, squaring off against several thugs who looked like gang members.
“You think you can run this shit in our territory?” One of the gang members bristled. He looked twenty at best.
“Kid you don’t know who you’re fucking with.” One of the Reaper’s said.
His back was to Adrian, so she couldn’t see his face. He was fucking huge, several inches taller than Trip, and wider too. His brown hair fell past his collar and led to a set of broad shoulders. The biker rolled those giant shoulders in agitation. This didn’t bode well.
“You don’t know who YOU’RE messing with. Me and my boys are going to fuck you up.” The lead gang banger puffed up his chest as he reached into his waistband and pulled out a gun. The lead thug started firing at the Reapers and shit hit the fan.
Adrian dropped to her knees, but watched as the massive biker fluidly spun out of the line of fire. A spectator five feet away, too foolish to duck when the gun was pulled, was struck in the shoulder and fell to the pavement, blood spilling copiously from his wound.
The screaming crowd started to run every direction to flee the gunfire, nearly trampling her.
Hank snickered at the sight as he stayed put on the ground, crouched behind a metal trashcan, while she remained in the open. Adrian tried to pull away to seek shelter but he held her sore wrist in his tight grip. Adrian kept her head and body as close to the ground as she could as the young thug fired wildly at the Reapers. She wondered how many fucking shots the clip held.
A bullet grazed Trip’s arm and he grunted, but besides that the bikers somehow dodged the gunfire, ducking and moving faster than she expected considering their hulking size.
Perhaps she spoke too soon. A shot ripped into one of the other Reaper’s thighs causing him to falter as they closed in on the gang. The lead gang banger looked triumphant but it was short lived.
While his attention was diverted, the massive Reaper in the lead with the shoulder length brown hair moved in faster than she could track. Adrian watched in horror as the biker gripped the thugs head and twisted. The loud sickening crunch clearly declaring his demise. The thug dropped to ground much to the surprise of the other gang members.
The Reapers closed in on the gang bangers as they took off running. Eric the Viking came out of nowhere capturing one. Only one of the thugs was able to escape. The others were knocked out with a punch to the face and drug out of the room. Adrian wondered what horror awaited them.
The large Reaper with the brown hair looked at the stupid kid laying on the floor with his head twisted at an odd angle. The look on his face was feral, his steely eyes filled with anger and disgust.
Adrian stared at him while he was preoccupied. Again the odd impressions assailed her. These bikers were dangerous men. A shadow of something hovered around the giant man, like a specter. Adrian tried to latch onto the apparition. The shadowy face appeared to snarl at her.
The large biker’s head popped up, his cold eyes zeroing in on her. Adrian quickly ducked behind the trashcan, Hank had vacated since it was now safe. She didn’t want to be seen, or recognized by these violent men.
Hank stood up and looked around at the few people that remained in the warehouse.
“Holy shit!” Hank exclaimed, excited by the chaos.
“Show’s over! Get the fuck out.” The massive Reaper bellowed.
Adrian peeked out to see him dragging the dead thug out. Hank yanked her up and started to pull her out the opposite set of doors.
They passed the poor guy who’d been shot as he still shivered and bled on the concrete floor. She hoped someone helped him, but the fool had come to an illegal cage match, he had to know this kind of shit was possible.
That night Hank was so pleased with her performance he tossed her a crappy sleeping bag and a deck of cards. Unfortunately he still cuffed her to the metal column, but at least this time he secured her good wrist, alleviating the strain on the raw one.
As Adrian curled up in the musty sleeping bag she was haunted by what she’d seen. She had to get out of here, or she would end up dead like all those people she’d witnessed.
Cain
Cain walked up from the clubhouse basement. He hated the fact he’d killed nothing more than a punk kid, but the little shit had been firing on him and his brothers, not to mention injuring random people. He couldn’t allow that crap.
It still rankled. It was one thing to snuff out a full grown ass wipe, that had long enough in life to learn better, but half the local gangs were filled with nothing but overgrown children, trying to carve out a piece of the world and earn a bit of respect, if not in a misguided fashion.
“Hell who am I to judge.” Cain mused. After all he was the president of the Reapers M/C. It wasn’t like they were a fucking boy scout troop.
The
rest of the wannabe thugs were in the storage rooms beneath the clubhouse being convinced to mind their own business and not fuck with the Reapers. It didn’t take much to make the little bastards piss themselves in fear. All he had to do was show them a fraction of his true colors and snarl a bit.
They wouldn’t give the Reapers any more trouble, of that he was sure. In the end it would be a good lesson for the little gang bangers, if they didn’t go bat shit crazy.
“Know thy enemy.” Important motto to live by.
The pint sized gangsters had no clue when they entered the warehouse all tough, that they’d just found the things that went bump in the night.
“Just call me the boogie man.” Cain chuckled to himself as he entered the rec room to see Trip. “Trip release those dumb-asses back into the wild whenever you see fit.” Cain said to his Vice President. Trip nodded.
“We dumped the dude that got shot at the hospital, he should be fine and I’m sure he won’t talk. He seemed solid enough, although the loss of blood and ride to the ER made him pretty agreeable.” Trip reported.
Cain grinned. In a few days it would be business as usual again. The neighborhood the warehouse was in never attracted much attention, which made it a prime spot for the fights.
“Is it just me or are more crazy bastards drifting out of the woodwork lately?”
Cain enjoyed watching a good fight, but he was debating stepping in more often when shit got out of hand. Cain understood violent tendencies for sure, but shit, when had man lost his sense of self preservation.
“Hey they know the risk.” Trip shrugged. “If some dumb fuck wants to fight to the death, who am I to keep him from getting his death wish.” Trip reasoned.
He was right. They didn’t force anyone into the ring. Of course they did take their cut of the bets.
“What’s the haul?” Cain asked.
They really didn’t need the money, one reason Cain had debated calling it quits with the public fights, but it was a tradition started by his grandfather. Now in certain circles they were known for it. People came from quite a distance to get their teeth kicked in courtesy of the Reapers. Go figure.
“Enough to cover the light bill.” Trip replied.
Which meant decent but nothing to get excited about. As if they ever had to worry about the bills. The Reapers weren’t rolling in it, but they weren’t doing too bad for themselves either. He was able to see to it that his brothers and family were comfortable, and that’s what mattered the most to him.
“I hate the fact that little bastard was firing like that with so many woman around.”
Cain bitched as he remembered catching a glimpse of some Sweet Butt huddled behind a trashcan. It was odd the way she captured his beast���s attention. Cain was still aggravated how close to the surface he’d allowed it.
Cain hadn’t gotten a good look at the woman, but her fear and that of the few other woman there had been palpable. Most of the woman brought to the events were whores, and their pimps were looking for a good place to peddle their wares. But still they were females, and he’d always been taught to treat them a certain way, which didn’t involve getting your brains blown out.
“Hey I noticed one of the guys that stuck around was the guy I told you about.” Trip mentioned.
“You mean the one that wants to help.” Cain chuckled as he made rabbit ears around the word ‘help’. The guy had been coming to the fights for a bit and seemed way too interested.
“Yeah he suggested he might have connections that would benefit us. I think he said his name was Hank.”
“Well look into it.” Cain suggested.
He didn’t like outsiders nosing around in Reaper business. You had to keep an eye on those people that got a bit too eager.
Adrian
Adrian’s days were spent on games of solitaire, singing to herself, and meditating which often turned into a nap. Adrian worried about her business. But she worried more about her kitty, Shaz. There were also many many days she couldn’t do anything at all.
Although Hank didn’t rape her after that awful day in the bath, he took a perverse pleasure watching whenever he escorted her to the bathroom. He’d stare at her as she used the toilet. Every time he forced Adrian to strip and take a shower she trembled so violently she could barely stand beneath the hot water.
Adrian tried to protest as Hank led her to the bathroom this evening and he had snapped. She should’ve seen it coming. Hank had a short fuse and enjoyed keeping her in line even for the smallest perceived infraction.
A person shouldn’t have to get used to having a constantly split lip and bruised face. It made eating the meal a day Hank remembered to feed her very uncomfortable.
Then again Adrian couldn’t even eat the meal he fed her without dreading whether or not it was drugged. She feared waking up to find him pinning her naked body.
Her standard PB&J sat by her sleeping bag untouched. At least the water was sealed, so she knew if he’d tampered with it or not.
Today Hank took even more pleasure in telling her she was officially on the missing persons list as he smacked her around. She wanted to cry but had no more tears left to shed. Besides it would just hurt. No doubt she’d have trouble later seeing out of her left eye, she could already feel it swelling.
Adrian sat against the metal column as she slowly unwrapped her sandwich and examined it, picking the half with the jelly away from the half with the peanut butter. She tore a hunk off the jelly side and grimaced as she ate it, noting how her lip stung and started bleeding again.
She’d eat a bite and wait till she needed more. That way it lasted longer and anything Hank put into it wouldn’t have a chance to affect her. Adrian stared at the gooey peanut butter and her stomach growled. She wished she could gobble it up, but didn’t.
Adrian ran her fingers through her tangled hair attempting to comb the knots out. As she worked on a particularly nasty knot while fantasizing about food and freedom her hand froze.
Adrian looked at the greasy peanut butter and remembered the time her mother had gotten gum out of her hair using it.
She looked back at her shackled wrist. Hank hadn’t secured it as tight as he had in the past. Maybe, just maybe with a little greasy peanut butter goodness she could work her wrist free.
Adrian could hardly contain herself as she waited for the sound of Hank leaving for work. It seemed like forever before the rumble of the garage door filtered into the basement.
Adrian waited a bit. Satisfied he was gone she quickly grabbed the greasy half of her sandwich and started smearing the peanut butter on the sides of her trapped hand. Sufficiently covered Adrian started to tug at it, using her other hand to help curl her palm so it might go through the cuff. It hurt like a bitch as her skin scraped away, but she ignored the pain and just dabbed more peanut butter on.
The moment she felt her hand pull past the widest part Adrian cried out in relief and joy. She ran up the basement steps the best she could only to find the door locked. Unwilling to give up when she’d come so far Adrian wandered back down and started rummaging through the tools on Hank’s work bench till she found a large hammer and flat tipped screwdriver.
With trembling hands she held the screwdriver up to where the lock on the door knob connected with the door jamb. She gave it a whack, nearly missing since her hands were still greasy. It didn’t take long before the door gave way.
Adrian dropped the tools as she shoved the door open. She bolted into hallway then froze in terror.
The door to the garage was open and there stood Hank with a bag of groceries. The look of rage on his face as he dropped the sack, screamed run.
Adrian fled towards the living room at the front of the house. How had she been so stupid as to not listen for his return.
Hank tackled her back and she went sprawling on the floor with a cry of anguish. Despite being weak she kicked at him as he yanked her up by her hair. Hank slapped her so hard she flew against the hall wall and sunk to the
floor seeing stars.
“You stupid fucking cunt.” He roared as he grabbed her ankle and tugged her down the basement stairs.
It was all Adrian could do to keep from hitting her head as she clamored for a hold. He punched her in the eye even though she tried to protect her face. Adrian screamed in terror as Hank cussed and kicked her.
His boot came down hard on her hand and she heard a snap in her index finger. He didn’t seem to care, he just continued his maniacal tirade as she curled into a ball on the concrete floor. A hard kick to her head brought darkness.
3 Living Hell
Adrian
Adrian wasn’t sure how or why she’d woken up after Hank’s abuse, but she had.
If she thought he was a bastard before, he was more so now. Hank’s favorite threat came at the end of a wicked looking hunting knife, which he brandished and used to keep her in line.
She had so many shallow cuts Hank had inflicted while smiling sadistically she couldn’t even count them all. She was pretty sure a few needed stitches, but that wouldn’t happen. The best she could do was keep them clean. At least Hank hadn’t cut her face or broken her nose in his tirades. She’d seen the damage a broken nose could do. Of course if he killed her it would be a reprieve from the current hell she was existing in.
Adrian’s ribs hadn’t had time to heal, and she was pretty sure her index finger was broken when Hank crushed it under his boot. But Hank still forced her into his trunk to head to the dreaded warehouse.
As usual there were always several guys at the fights wearing the recognizable Reaper motorcycle emblem on the leather jackets. Sometimes the dark spiky haired giant, Trip, stood at the door. At other times it was the blonde haired, blue eyed guy they called Eric.
She hadn’t seen the scary ass large biker with the brown hair and cold steely eyes since the night he murdered that gang banger. Of course that was the only instance she’d noticed him, and she’d only been brought to one fight since. Adrian shivered as she recalled the awful incident.
Biting Back: A Motorcycle Club, Shifter, Romance (Shifting Steel Book 1) Page 3
