Thief: Devil's Own MC

by West, Heather

  “That’s pretty fucking cocky,” I said aloud. My mouth was dry and there was a stale taste on my tongue. On top of the monster hangover, I was starving. Right now, the most appetizing option was breaking out of this hellhole, finding Sarah, then curling up for a couple of hours. Roger could wait. I was worried about her being in danger, but I was also exhausted. Way to go, Blake, I congratulated myself. Great fuckin’ job you did on this one.

  The ropes seemed even tighter than they had when I’d first woken up, and there was an uncomfortable pressure building on my bladder. I knew that if I didn’t get out soon, I’d piss myself. Straining with all of my might, I closed my eyes and tried to wriggle away from the wall. There was a few inches between my body and the cold concrete behind me, and if I locked my arms and heaved, I almost could have slipped away. Just when I thought I’d almost gotten it, I heard heavy footsteps treading overhead.

  “Great,” I said. “Company.”

  The footsteps stopped right in front of the door and I heard a key scratching in the lock. Soon, yellow light flooded the basement. I had to close my eyes; it was so bright that it sent a bolt of pain through my skull. Part of me was amazed that after so little time in the dark, I already felt like a rat. The other part of me wanted to rip whoever was keeping me hostage into shreds.

  A big, burly man walked down the steps, yawning. “You woke me up,” he accused. When he spoke, I realized that he wasn’t all there.

  “Let me go,” I pleaded. “Come on, fucker. Untie me. You know I’m not doing any good being locked up like this.”

  The man shook his head. He gave me a blank stare and sat down on the steps, There was a piece of wood in his hand and he was breaking it into splinters and dropping them on the ground, keeping his eyes locked on me. His mouth hung open slightly and I couldn’t tell what he was thinking: the blank look on his face was reminiscent of a cow.

  “Come on,” I begged. “Come on, let me go. I won’t tell anyone,” I promised. The man blinked at me.

  “I can’t let you go,” he said in a slow, thick voice. It sounded like he was talking through a mouthful of syrup. I glared at him. “Sorry,” he added, sounding almost reproachful. “I can’t let you go.”

  “Come on,” I said again. “I won’t tell anyone, honest.” I tried to smile at him but the blank bovine stare was too unnerving. It was like he was staring right through me, directly at the wall. “Please?”

  The burly man shook his head. He closed his eyes and soon, snores were coming out of his mouth. I couldn’t believe it. He’d left the door open, and while I was paranoid about someone else coming downstairs, I knew that I had to act quickly. There was enough light to see the floor. The wooden board that he’d been playing with was splintered into pieces around his feet, and if I stretched my body just so, I could touch one of the pieces with the tips of my toes. I strained every muscle, in agony, and tried to stretch out as much as I could. Finally, the ropes loosened somewhat and I was able to pull a piece of wood closer to me. I had no idea if it would work, but I had to try something.

  The man tensed in his sleep and stopped breathing and for a moment, so did I. I held my breath until I could see his body relax and slump over once again, snoring just as loudly as before. Inching the wood closer to my body, I twisted my arms and picked up the splinters with my bound hands. They were both halfway numb and I massaged each with the thumb of the other, desperate to get the blood flowing once more. Finally, when I had a little bit more sensation, I grabbed the wood and picked at the thick knot binding my wrists together. The knot was tight, but after what felt like hours, I was finally making a little progress. My hands were sweaty and aching and I could feel the sweat pouring down my forehead. After every few minutes, I’d stop and pant and listen for more footsteps upstairs. So far, my friend in the corner was still asleep, but I knew it couldn’t last forever. Gritting my teeth, I resumed picking at the knot until I had it loose enough to pull away with my fingers.

  The blood rushing back into my hands was so intense that it felt painful at first. I moaned loudly and then clamped my lips shut. The man snored once but then lapsed into silence and I knew I had to work quickly. My hands were sore and shaking but I managed to reach down and pick at the knot between my ankles until it was loose enough to kick away.

  At first, I didn’t think I could stand. The pain and pressure on my limbs was too much, and I was honestly tempted to collapse where I stood and fall asleep. But the man began to stir and I approached him cautiously. Dropping the ropes in a pile on his lap, I leaned close to his ear.

  “Thanks for the company,” I whispered. The man woke up just as I formed my other hand into a fist and punched him in the jaw. He didn’t make a sound as the punch landed, but I felt the muscle and bone beneath my skin part. The man leaned forward and spat blood. Just as I moved to walk past him and up the stairs, he reached out and grabbed me with surprising strength.

  “You can’t go,” the man wailed in a low voice. “You have to stay!” He began raining heavy blows on my back and shoulders. I felt myself crumple to the ground and I rolled away from the man’s fists. He kept punching the air even after I’d rolled away and I climbed to my feet and punched him squarely in the stomach. The man grunted once, like a farm animal, and then fell over in a heap.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes. But I knew I didn’t have much time. Turning on my heel, I ran up the steps, breathing hard. The first level of the house looked very ordinary: pale wood furniture, dark trim. I listened for signs of occupancy but didn’t hear anything. Judging by the light streaming in from the windows, it was sometime in the late morning.

  Shit. I hope I’m not too late, I thought, sprinting through the living room. I let myself out the front door of the house. My motorcycle had been tossed in a clump of bushes, and I was able to haul it upright with my hands. I’m coming, Sarah!

  The house where I’d been held was in a pretty posh neighborhood, but I didn’t pay it any mind as I pushed my bike into a high gear and got onto the highway. I knew that I had to find Sarah at any cost. I had a feeling she probably wasn’t at her apartment, but it would be worth checking first. If there had been a struggle, I might be able to find her based on the clues left at the scene.

  As I drove, my head ached and ached. I longed to stop and drink a bottle of water, but I knew that I had to keep going. By the time I pulled into Sarah’s apartment complex, I felt like I was running on fumes. A sinking feeling made its way through me as I crossed the lawn and leapt up the steps two at a time.

  Your princess is in another castle, I thought to myself as I kicked at her front door. There was no answer. Now it’s time to go get her.

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Sarah

  I didn’t sleep a wink the whole night. I couldn’t stop worrying about Blake—and myself. I didn’t want anything bad to happen to Blake, but honestly, I didn’t want anything bad to happen to me either. It was more than enough to think about Roger hurting him without considering the possibility that I’d be in prison for the rest of my life, too. I shuddered as I thought about it. Would my life really be wasted because of one stupid mistake?

  People have been imprisoned for less. It very well could be. And Blake was going to think all kinds of bad things about me now. It made me laugh bitterly to remember how concerned I’d been over telling him about the photos. They were a drop in the bucket compared to what I was going to be doing with Roger.

  Standing in front of my closet, I tried to look for an outfit that would suit Roger’s demands. He’d said, “None of that slutty stuff you wear most of the time. You have to look perfect. Like a little virgin, ready for me.”

  It was enough to make me sick. The indignity of being forced to help him commit a robbery was made even worse by the fact that I’d have to pretend to be his fiancée. I wondered what the papers would write about us. Modern day Bonnie & Clyde! Just thinking about it was enough to make me sick. I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone thinking I’d be willingly inv
olved with someone who was such a creep—not to mention a huge felon. I shuddered. Think, Sarah, I ordered myself. There has to be a way out of this.

  My phone bleated on the bed and I turned to see Julia’s name flash across the screen. My frown darkened even deeper. After this, Julia would never talk to me again. I knew that she’d probably believe me, but it would prove what an unstable influence I was on her and Hailey. I blushed with shame at what her face would look like, seeing me flash across the evening news. My life was over. Even if I didn’t go to jail, my life was over. I’d never be able to forget about this for the rest of my life.

  And Blake, well, that was over, too. I knew that he wouldn’t trust me after today, especially not after the way I’d scorned him for being violent. The thought was an ironic one; now I was the one being bullied into committing a crime. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to take the moral high ground over Blake in the future. Sure, he beat people up. I robbed a jewelry store of hundreds of thousands of dollars. Julia would retort that we deserved each other, but I knew the truth: Blake didn’t deserve a woman who lied and let herself be sucked into these situations. He deserved someone who was honest, and someone who would stand up for herself. I shuddered at the way I’d let Roger bully me, at the way he’d continue to bully me. I hated him with everything in me. If I could have gotten away with killing him, I would have.

  By the time the sun was coming up, I still hadn’t picked an outfit together. I was exhausted and my head was pounding, but every time I tried to lie down, I couldn’t sleep. Thoughts of Roger and the horrible things we were going to do were seared on my brain like a brand. I wondered if I’d ever get through today. I wondered if the cops would be rough with me when they arrested me, or if they’d be gentle because I was a woman. I wondered if the county jail would be horrendous, or if prison would be worse. Even though I wasn’t exactly a little virginal cupcake, I was still pretty innocent in the big picture. I’d never been around anyone who used hard drugs or who’d killed anyone. I’d thought that Blake had been dangerous, but he’d wound up looking like a saint next to Roger.

  Basically, everything that I’d thought that I’d known was wrong. With a huff, I climbed to my feet and walked over to my closet. My legs felt like jelly as I leaned forward and combed through everything. I had a navy silk suit that I could wear, but I was worried Roger would dismiss it as too matronly. Although, on me, I wasn’t sure that anything could be called matronly. My large breasts made some things look obscene that would have made a smaller girl look frumpy. With a sigh, I pulled the suit from the hanger. It needed a press. When I realized how much time I’d spent picking out an outfit, I laughed drily. It was longer than ever before, even for a date. And I’d done it all for Roger.

  I ironed the silk suit with a cream silk blouse. The trousers were snug around my hips and I knew they made my curves look spectacular. Under the cream blouse, I wore a bright lavender bra. The jacket wouldn’t fasten over my breasts so I draped a lavender scarf around my neck. When I did my makeup, I made sure that it was heavy but tasteful: foundation, blush, eyeshadow, thick black liner, two coats of volumizing mascara. When I was done, I looked exactly as Roger would have liked. Young, sexual, excited, and a little moneyed. The silk suit was one of the nicest things I owned—Julia had bought it for me when I was still auditioning for parts. I hadn’t worn it in years, but it didn’t look retro.

  Roger was coming for me at ten. We were planning to be at Tinder’s by noon, but he wanted to wait first to make sure that the female employee went to lunch. I knew that if it was too busy of a day, he’d want to wait. The thought was like torture; I was caught between already wishing it was over and wishing the moment would never come. I couldn’t imagine having to delay the operation another day. It would be like having your execution prolonged.

  Roger was late. At ten, I sat in the kitchen with a cup of coffee that I was too nervous to drink. I couldn’t call Blake; I wasn’t ready to apologize and then ask for his help. I decided that afterwards, if I could, I’d try to send him a message: “I’m okay, thanks for trying to help me, good luck.”

  The whole thing made me want to cry. Just when I’d finally felt like my life was turning around, this whole thing had to happen. And the worst of it was, it was completely my fault. If I hadn’t lost my job, or if I’d been able to find a new one, I could have survived without Roger’s help. Sure the fallout from the pictures would have been bad, but it wouldn’t have been insurmountable. I cursed myself for not being able to see that at the time, for thinking that the worst that could happen was that people would think I was a slut. Now, they’d know the truth: I was a slut, and a felon. Hard to find a worse combination, I thought. I’m in too fucking deep with this one.

  At quarter to eleven, there was a knock on the door. Even though I knew it was Roger, my heart seized in my throat. When I didn’t answer, the knock came again, louder and more forceful this time. I got up from the table and walked to the door. My navy silk heels were unstable in the plush carpet and my ankles wobbled nervously. Maybe I’ll have an accident and I won’t be able to walk, I thought excitedly. Maybe the worst will happen. Maybe I’ll fall and—

  “Sarah, let me in!” Roger called. He thumped on the door again. “I know you’re in there,” he yelled. I winced as I got closer to the door and yanked it open. “Let me in,” he demanded, pushing past me. I fell backwards and almost landed on my ass. “I hope you’re happy, I was late!”

  “I noticed,” I said, trying to keep my voice to a normal pitch. “You want to go now?” Roger was looking around my apartment, scanning it furtively. “What? What are you looking for?”

  Roger stepped closer to me, dangerously, alarmingly close. “Nothing you need to worry that little head about right now,” he said smugly. “I’m just looking around, darlin’,” he added when I glared at him. “I need to find my bearings around here.”

  “Can we just leave?” I groaned. “Please, Roger. Can we just get this fucking over with?” Roger twisted his fingers into my hair and yanked, hard. I yelped as he pulled my head back and leaned in close. As always, the smell of something vaguely rotten emanated from his mouth. I shuddered and pulled away but Roger dug his fingers deep into my scalp.

  “Are you gonna pull that bullshit with me today, girl?” he asked softly. “Don’t tell me that you’re gonna misbehave, honey, or a world of pain is coming to you and Mr. Biker.”

  “Let go of me!” I cried. Roger did as I asked and I stumbled backwards, falling on my ass. My legs splayed out and Roger made no secret of glancing down between them. The lewdness of his gaze made me shudder and I clamped my legs together as tightly as I could.

  “That’s a pretty little snatch you’ve got, sweetie,” Roger said in that same, atrocious voice. “I wish I could just slip inside of you, if you’d let me.”

  I stuck my foot out to kick him but he grabbed my ankle. The feel of his dry, scaly hands on my bare skin was too much and I shrieked loudly, kicking at Roger with my free leg. He cried out and jumped back, just as I was able to yank my legs out of his grasp and tuck them underneath me as I got to my feet. When I was standing, Roger glared at me from a few feet away.

  “You’re in a mood this morning,” he huffed under his breath. It was the same belabored tone that he’d taken with me in the park last week when I’d first heard of his rotten little scheme. It was the tone that implied, “Just look at all I’m doing for you, and this is how you choose to repay me!”

  “Roger, don’t forget that I don’t want to do this,” I said icily, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. He rubbed at his chin sorely, the same spot that I’d almost kicked. “I wish you’d just let me go. Please?” I looked at him with big eyes. “Please don’t make me do this,” I begged. I could feel tears coming to my eyes and I blinked hastily. I knew that ruining my makeup at this point would only make him angrier than ever.

  “Sweetie, don’t you get that it’s too late to back out now?” Roger grinned and rubbed his hands to
gether in anticipation. “Don’t forget that you’re helping me, honey,” he said, running a finger down my arm. “And don’t forget to show everyone how excited you are to be marrying me.” He looked at me and I felt my stomach twist into knots. “Come here, sweetie, why don’t we try a little practice?”

  I shuddered and stayed rooted firmly to the spot until Roger got that murderous look in his eye again. With my whole body trembling, I walked closer until I was standing right next to Roger. He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me close; I was quickly inundated with the smell of rot and cigarettes. Roger turned our bodies so we were facing the mirror in my hallway. He grinned at his reflection and let his arm trail down my body. I shrieked as he got closer to my ass. Roger smacked me, hard, and I cried out.

  “You’re my fiancée,” he repeated. “You better do a good fucking job of acting like it,” Roger growled at me. “Now fucking act like it, bitch.”

  Trembling, I forced my reflection to smile. Roger turned his body towards me and pulled me close. I tried to tune out what was happening but it was too horrifying to comprehend. As he leaned in for a kiss, I closed my eyes and waited desperately for it to be over. Roger’s lips were wet and slimy and overly warm, and as they pressed against my mouth, a foul taste became known to me. I shuddered and tried to pull away but Roger wrapped his arms around me and yanked me closer. I stumbled and my body slammed against him. My heart was pounding in terror and I tried to will myself away to a better place, a happier place. When Roger tried to slip his thin tongue into my mouth, I shuddered and pushed him away roughly. Roger stumbled but made a fist and swung back, punching me hard in the stomach.