Hopeful Whispers

by Bink Cummings

  Penetrating fear about her and our daughter’s well-being has me moving faster. From around a corner, three more men come at us at once, more prepared than the last idiots—by a little. My fist connects with the first one’s face, and there’s a definitive crunch under my knuckles. I barely feel a damn thing. Thank fuck for adrenaline. The other guy nearly stabs me in the gut, but I turn at the last second, tossing him toward his friend like a sack of flour. They crash to the ground in a pile of limbs as Kade plays demonic jack-o lantern carving with the less fortunate man.

  My brother’s toy shrieks in agony.

  “Now, now. Be a good boy and sit still. Mother wants herself a pretty pretty boy.” Kade cackles, the sound sending an eerie chill up my spine.

  “No! Please! No!” The man begs, and Kade’s laughter surges.

  I told ya he’s a sick fuck.

  Dumb and Dumber finally scramble to their feet, and I decide I don’t have time for games. I take no pleasure in torturing people, anyhow. I need to find my little Tiger soon.

  Out of nowhere, the bigger man with goofy ears pounces, swiping his blade across my stomach, tearing through my shirt and grazing my abs as the other attempts to secure my arms. That’s gonna leave a mark.

  Guess these two assholes are used to working as a team. They’re probably the same sickos who kidnapped my woman to begin with.

  “Which one of you abducted Kat?” I hiss, shoving the grabby douche away. He stumbles to the wall like a drunken fool.

  “We all did,” the knife yielding dipshit says an instant before my vision blurs to red.

  Roaring in fury, my inner monster tears to the surface. There’s cracking of bones and slices of human meat gushing blood as my Christmas gift sinks into warm, soft flesh on the way to the floor. Warm crimson splashes my face, and I spit to keep it from going in my mouth.

  “You stupid motherfuckers, you don’t know who you’re fuckin’ with!”

  My knife sinks to the hilt in some part of flesh, and the man under my blade doesn’t move. Kneeling over him, I kick the body. Nothing. Dead. So I focus on the other man, who’s still squirming, trying to crawl away, streaking a ruddy trail of blood behind him.

  “No. No. No. Asshole. You don’t get to fuck with my woman and live.” I step on his retreating ankle until I hear a snap under my boot heel and he wails in pain. Kade laughs his delight, watching me work.

  The guy freezes in place, sobbing. “I’m so sorry. We didn’t mean to hurt her. I told him he shouldn’t have done it.”

  Stalking up his prone body, I kneel, resting my knife against his throat. “Do what?” I growl, shaking with so much rage I might explode. If they so much as—

  “Fuck!” Big thunders from somewhere nearby. “Ryker!”

  My heart fucking drops, blood turning ice-cold.

  Kade’s by my side in a flash, finishing the job a second before I shove off the floor in a dead sprint.

  Kat

  Curled into a ball, shivering, stinging tears streaming down my face, I stare in horror at the monster lurking inside my cell. He’s huge. The faint glow of moonlight seems to hit him just right from the small window. It’s like a scene from a movie, where your murderer loiters in the corner, seconds before he ends your life. Vanessa’s screaming isn’t helping matters. I know I said I don’t wanna die, but I’m too exhausted to fight. There’s no food or water left. I haven’t eaten in what feels like days. Blood is crusted across my face, and the swelling is so bad I can barely pry my eyes open. I want to cry harder and beg for mercy—but I’m too strong to admit they’ve done what they came to do. They broke me. That one, ugly man … he … he hurt me. Not from the slapping or the cut. I can take the physical pain. I’d gladly take that. No. The sicko groped my breasts and slid his dirty, abrasive fingers inside my pussy minutes before he cut me loose with a perverted snicker. I’ve been through a lot in my life. Just not that. I’ve never been violated in that way. I can endure a great deal, but I can’t take any of this much longer. I’m so, so very tired. All I wanna do is sleep, but can’t. It’s grown colder, my clothes are nearly destroyed, and if I lay my head on anything, my body cries in agonizing protest. My daughter hasn’t moved in hours. I’m worried to death about that, and the sad questions that have been churning in my head. How are my girls going to survive without a mother? How will they grow up? Will they remember me? My mom isn’t equipped to take care of them full time. I can’t believe this is happening.

  “Katrina?” My executioner queries, his deep voice deceptively serene. If he wasn’t here to kill me, I might even call it sexy. I’ve always had a thing for gruff, manly voices.

  “What do you want?” I whisper hoarsely, head tucked down, sucking back a shameful sob.

  “Are you alright?”

  Why does he care?

  Glancing up, where he can fully see me, and I him, he gasps, then growls so ferociously it penetrates my chest. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

  “Fuck!” he bellows. “Ryker!”

  “What … what are you talking about?”

  Why is he mentioning Ryker? This isn’t where the meet is. I know that much.

  “I’m not here to hurt you, Katrina. I’m Big Dick, a brother of your father’s.”

  Hey, I know that name.

  Exhaling a sigh of relief, shoulders deflating, the lights flicker back on, casting an eerie glow over the room and the biggest man I’ve ever seen in my entire life. I had no idea they made men that massive!

  I gulp.

  “You’re—” The words die on my lips when a winded Ryker darts into my room and stops three feet from the cot, dripping blood on the floor.

  A sticky ball of nerves shoots up my throat.

  Jesus. I hope that’s not his blood.

  Shuffling myself forward, gritting through the pain, I move to get off the cot and check him for injuries. I freeze mid-movement when Ryker falls to his knees, hands threaded behind his bald head. “Fuck!” he howls heavenward. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

  Kade dashes through the doorway, coming to a screeching halt beside Big Dick. All of their eyes settle on me. I must look worse than I thought. I try not to care, and fail miserably. It’s going to take forever for my face to heal. And if I’m being realistic, some of it’s gonna scar.

  “Oh, Kat.” Kade’s bloody face drops, sadness soaking his words. I frown, and it hurts, so I stop, deciding it’s better to keep everything neutral.

  “Are you all okay?” I ask, hanging my bare legs off the side of the bed.

  Wordlessly, Big removes his cut and hangs it on the door handle, then tears his clean hoodie over his head, leaving him with a black t-shirt underneath. He steps forward to hand it to me like a gentleman, but doesn’t get far when Ryker sneers over his shoulder, ripping the offering from Big’s grasp.

  “Thanks,” Ryker rumbles, and Big inclines his head in some sort of macho understanding, their gazes briefly locking.

  Ryker stands with a grunt, approaching my bedside. I cup myself between my legs to maintain an ounce of dignity. He glances over his shoulder. “Privacy. Now,” he commands, and the men obey without question.

  “I’m gonna call for transport,” Big Dick notes from the hall.

  “And I’m gonna go release the screaming banshee,” Kade grumbles, making me wanna smile.

  I almost feel sorry for the guy. She’s been noisy on and off for hours upon hours. After a while it grates on your last nerve. Shouldn’t Ryker be tending to her anyhow? He could leave Kade here with me. I’d like that. Pretty sure that’d be less confusing, since my body’s uncertain of how to react around Ryker, and my mind, let’s not talk about that. It’s a mucked up mess.

  Ryker rests on one knee in front of my cot, his body heat tempting me to wrap my arms around him and hold on forever. Or perhaps that’s another part of me wanting that. I can’t be sure. I’m too drained to care.

  “You’re covered in blood.”

  Carefully, I touch his crimson spattered cheek. The wa
rmth sparks beneath my frozen fingertip. Tossing the hoodie onto his shoulder, Ryker tenderly pulls my hand from his face, then reaches for my other. Bringing them together, he cups them in his big mitts and blows hot air across my icy flesh. I sigh in pleasure.

  “I’m so sorry, baby,” Ryker whispers, laying a kiss upon my folded hands as he rubs his around them, creating delicious friction. A dormant butterfly takes flight in my belly from all the attention. “So, so, fuckin’ sorry.” His dejected tone slays me. “Are you alright? Fuck. No, you’re not alright. I … fuck…” His eyes pinch shut, forehead creasing.

  “I’ll be okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, this time,” I reply, aiming to reassure him as my heart pounds violently in my chest. I still can’t believe he’s here. How did he find me? What are we going to do now? What happened to the men who kidnapped me? By any indication of his coloring, I’d say they were sent to Hell, where they belong. Surprisingly, I don’t feel guilty about that. It’s kinda flattering that he … you know … did what he had to do. That they all did.

  The excited screech of Vanessa’s release travels through the building. I try not to cringe at the loathsome sound, so my face doesn’t hurt worse. However, I fail when the woman brazenly bounds into my cell and stops feet from Ryker, her unscathed face screwing into a scowl.

  “What the hell?” she hisses, looking from Ryker to me and back again.

  Three aching heartbeats pass as I wait for him to stop rubbing my hands and go to her. He doesn’t. If anything, his mitts massage warmth back into my extremities at a quicker pace, gently moving to my wrists, then forearms. He stops at my biceps when he sees me flinch. His lip curls cruelly over his teeth, but no sound comes as he retreats to safer areas.

  “Ry-ker?”

  Jeez, Vanessa swings from whiny to bitchy quicker than you can spell Mississippi.

  For whatever reason, he outright ignores her. I know I shouldn’t admit this, but a small sliver of my soul is pleased about that. Even if another portion feels immensely guilty that he’s aiding his ex while his wife stands here in wait. Nonetheless, I choose to focus on the satisfaction. I’m sick of feeling guilty, or ashamed, or anything other than happy. After the week I’ve had, I deserve a little joy in my life.

  The long-haired mammoth they call Big Dick sticks his head through the doorway. “Transport’s here,” he says, then pauses a beat, waiting for recognition. When nobody comments, I take point.

  “Thanks, um, Mr. Big … um, Dick, who didn’t kill me.”

  I cross my legs, acutely aware of my lack of panties. I guess I forgot to mention that the bastard who assaulted me stole my coat and boots out of spite, after tearing my underwear to shreds. I’m trying not to dwell on it. It’ll do me no good. I’ve cried once—okay, twice. That’s enough tears shed.

  “You can call me Big.” He returns a friendly wink. I want to smile back, yet think better of it for the sake of my fat lip. Instead, I nod once—grateful.

  Vanessa rubs her arms, casting a flirty glance toward Big, clearly not a fan of being overlooked. “You wouldn’t happen to have a coat, would you? It’s cold in here.” She fake shivers.

  Do you see this shit? Who does that? The woman has a long sleeve shirt on, boots, and gloves. And those look like an expensive pair of boots to me. What do you think? I bet Ryker bought them for her.

  For a second, I wonder if her antics will win Big over. It would a lot of men. She’s beautiful and pregnant. Whereas I’m over here looking like my very own heifer version of Hatchet Face.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Big glowers, nostrils flaring. “I wouldn’t give you a coat, even if I had one.” He points a stern finger in her direction. “Quit actin’ like a prissy bitch and get your ass in the truck.”

  Vanessa opens her mouth to argue, but closes it a second later when Big swallows up the door frame, tall and terrifying. Ryker’s too busy rubbing my arms, lost in his head, that he pays no mind to the stare down that transpires between his national prez and his wife. She sputters an objection under her breath before stomping out of the room, cursing Ryker’s name in vain.

  Big winks at me once more, then turns and leaves us.

  I really like him, even if he intimidates the crap outta me.

  “If you need anythin’, Watermelon tits, I’ll be outside,” Kade says out of nowhere.

  Lordy, that nickname stuck.

  “Uh ... thanks, Dickcheese,” I respond, hiding my amusement.

  A chuckle resonates from the hallway.

  Turning my attention back to Ryker, who’s furiously trying to warm my skin, his damp, red-ringed eyes stare blankly ahead—level with my breasts.

  “Ryker?” I mutter. He doesn’t stop or acknowledge me in the slightest. “Ryker?” I try again. Nada.

  Something’s going on inside his brain. This happened once before, after we’d had a fight. He spooned me all night long, never sleeping, as his fingers absentmindedly caressed me well past sunrise. I could sense his mind working on overdrive then, just as it is now.

  On a downward stroke of my arm, I tug that one free from his grasp and snatch the hoodie off his shoulder. Ryker’s body jolts aware, and he blinks rapidly, snapping back to the present. He looks around the room before releasing my other arm so I can slide Big’s hoodie on. It’s not without a twinge of pain, but the immediate warmth is moan-worthy.

  I groan in relief.

  The little treasures in life are never to go unnoticed. I will forever worship hoodies, even if they make me look like a blimp.

  There’s a faint tumble in my belly, and I want to cry with joy.

  She moved! She finally moved!

  Thank God for miracles.

  “Vanessa left?” Ryker enquires, brows pinched in concentration.

  I cup my stomach, feeling her tumble again. “Ya don’t remember?”

  “I remember feelin’ like I was about to lose my fuckin’ shit when she walked in, slingin’ attitude. Then nothin’.” His palms cup my knees, as if he can’t go without touching me. Of course, that’s a ridiculous notion. He’s just concerned about my well-being, which is strangely fulfilling.

  “When was the last time ya slept?” I ask.

  Ryker shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Stop worryin’ about me. We need to get ya outta here. You’re my priority.” He stands, offering me an outstretched hand. “We gotta get ya warm and to a doctor. Come on, babe.”

  I stare at his upturned palm, then up to his stupidly sexy face. It might be covered in blood, and he might have dark circles under his eyes, but that doesn’t kill his sex appeal in the least. I wish I didn’t find him so damn attractive. That would make all of this a hundred times easier. “You just ignored your wife,” I remark, which goes over like a lead balloon when Ryker frowns, bends down, and steals one of my hands before yanking me to my feet and into his arms in one swift motion. My stomach dips in girlish ways as I’m hoisted into the air, swallowing a startled gasp.

  Carrying me out of the room like a damsel in distress, I rest my uninjured cheek on his shoulder. Kade meets us in the hall.

  “Hey there, beautiful. Ya ready to go home?” he asks cheerfully, patting my arm.

  “Yes. Do you know where my girls are?”

  “Our girls,” Ryker corrects gruffly, stepping over what I assume is a dead body. Not wanting to know for sure, I avert my eyes and focus on his stained shirt. The last thing I wanna do is puke.

  “Right. Our girls.” That tastes weird leaving my palate. “Do you know if they’re okay?” Please say they are. Please say they are. God. I’ve been worried sick about them. And when I’m worried sick, my appetite goes in the shitter because my stomach’s tied in knots.

  “Don’t worry, beautiful. Jezebel and some of her Sacred Sisters picked ‘em up, and took ‘em to their compound the day we found out you were missin’,” Kade clarifies as Mr. Broody stops at the front door. Now, this I remember. It’s the same metal door they forced me through when I arrived.

  Kade opens it for us, and Ryker sh
ifts me in his arms, getting a better hold.

  “I can walk,” I offer, only because it’s the right thing to do.

  When, honestly, I don’t wanna leave the comfort of his arms, even if his wife can see and gets pissed. I’m too exhausted to give a crap. Plus, his warmth feels good enough to make me forget I’m supposed to hate him for all eternity. Tomorrow, I can go back to loathing his existence. Today, I’ll bask in the safety of his embrace, if that means freedom.

  “The fuck you will.” Ryker shakes his head, stepping outside into the blustery cold. I shiver, despite his body heat, and snuggle closer, tucking my sore face into the leather of his vest to shield my cheeks from the harsh wind.

  We make haste to the awaiting SUV, and Ryker hefts me into the back, refusing to let me down, regardless of my offer. Draping me across his lap, feet dangling in the aisle, some attractive bald man from the driver’s seat passes us a plush blanket. Ryker lifts his chin in thanks before covering me with the soft cotton. Kade climbs in the opposing side, slamming the door in his wake.

  “Where’s Vanessa?” I murmur as we pull away from the warehouse.

  “She’s in the other truck,” Big answers from the passenger seat. “She copped an attitude, and I didn’t wanna deal with her shit. So she can be tortured by those fuckers singin’ all the way back to the clubhouse.”

  That doesn’t sound bad. I’d gladly take tone-deaf singing over physical abuse any day of the week, and twice on Sunday.

  “Why don’t you two get in the back?” Kade suggests, tapping the side of my calf.

  “Do you wanna rest on me in the backseat, or stay in my lap?” Ryker asks as if those are my only options. They’re not. I could argue that, but won’t.

  Hugging his arms tighter around my middle, one hand softly rubs my baby bump. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Ryker wants me to stay right here. Except the metallic, sweaty scent of his clothes isn’t the most pleasant. Sprawling out sounds heavenly. I could use some sleep.

  In response, I attempt to wiggle off his lap. Though I don’t get very far when Ryker spins me around and plops me onto Kade’s lap for a moment as he climbs into the seat first, then drags me like a caveman back into his awaiting arms. I go without complaint because, really, what am I gonna do? Say no? I can be mad at him later.