Frank nodded.
As the deputy hurried out to his cruiser, Bernadette reached over and threaded her fingers with Frank’s. He squeezed back, giving her his strength and comfort. As soon as she could get away, she needed to meet with Scary Mary.
Something was bent on destroying the Werewolves of Rebellion.
Chapter Eleven
Daffi couldn’t move. She just didn’t have any strength.
Ezra continued to ride her, having fucked her raw hours ago. He grunted over and over, his plunges deep, his appetite for sex unlike anything Daffi had ever encountered. Hell, she’d been with some really randy men before, but Ezra thrived on fucking, as if each time he screwed her, the more aroused he became, so he had to continue the rounds of sex to feed his addiction.
He pumped into her with ferocity. She didn’t know how many times he’d fucked her since yesterday, but she hadn’t left Ezra’s bed for at least 24 hours. He’d barely give her a reprieve before putting her in a new position and fucking her again. Ezra pulled out, held his cockhead poised at her entrance, then rammed home again. The god-awful cold he spread into her began anew, and Daffi moaned in arousal. If possible, Ezra’s cock grew even harder. She could do nothing to fight him, nothing to chase away the terrifying iciness that claimed her and the hellfire orgasm that clenched her insides until she leaped into its flames once more.
As the pleasure-pain accumulated in her core, Ezra began his maniacal chuckles. Daffi let her tears flow. He fucked her so hard that something popped in one of her hips. Exhausted, she could only lie there. He threw his head back, eyes blazing red, and stiffened as he came, his cock shooting his icy needles into her core, the chill spreading into her pussy, up into her lower abdomen and down into her inner thighs. Daffi’s screams of half pleasure and half agony as her passage clenched greedily at him sent Ezra into another pounding round of thrusts as he milked the last bit of himself into her body. He growled and grunted like a ravenous beast.
Panting, he lay on top of her for a moment, then bit her neck. She whimpered as the pain of it shot up into her head and simultaneously into her throat. When he released her, warmth trickled over her skin.
“That’s my pretty Russian Daffodil,” he said, mimicking her accent. He pumped a few more times, then finally slid free of her body. “I’d fuck you some more, but if I do, I might drain you of what little that’s left.” He tweaked her nipple, and to her horror, the weird pleasure-pain spiraled straight to her pussy. “I don’t want to lose my sweet, sweet girl.” He stood and walked over to the bar, where he poured two stout drinks. He brought a tumbler back for her, lay across the bed, then lifted her head. “Drink,” he ordered. “Drink all of it, then sleep. I’ll fuck you some more tonight.”
As ordered, she gulped down the whiskey, the burn of it welcome after the mind-numbing cold with which Ezra had polluted her body.
He leaned her head back on the pillow, and she gazed into his hellfire eyes. When he looked at her, he grinned, showing jagged teeth too. He blinked, extinguishing the red glow of his eyes. “Sorry, my sweet. Don’t need you freaking out on me, now do I?”
He left her to lie quietly. “Sleep. I’ll be back at nine tonight. We’ll fuck more then.”
She listened to him as he showered, dressed, then left without another word to her. Relieved, she lay there, too weak to even sob. Hot tears burned their trails down the sides of her face to pool in and around her ears.
She’d done a lot of shitty things in her life, things she’d probably go to hell for, but this…this was worse than hell. She turned her head so she could see his cell phone propped up in its charging dock. It was nine a.m. She had 12 hours before the monster returned.
Daffi let herself slip into oblivion.
* * *
Consciousness tickled Daffi’s mind until she finally swam up out of sleep’s dark embrace and opened her eyes. Cognition rolled over her with the weight of a million tons.
She was still in Ezra’s quarters, in his bed, barely alive after he’d fucked her into near oblivion, and now she had to clean herself up and wait for him to return like the dutiful sex slave she was.
But she couldn’t move. Hell, it was effort just to let her heart pump.
She sought out the glow of the cell phone on the bedside table. It showed it was a few minutes past five p.m. Four hours until the insane beast returned. Hopelessness nearly suffocated her.
She had pulled her big-girl panties up and had gone toe-to-toe with Jackknife, so why couldn’t she do the same with Ezra?
Snorting, she mentally ticked off the reasons—nowhere to go, no one to help her, no money to survive on. She didn’t even have enough cash for gas to drive far enough to reach another town big enough where she could vanish.
Daffi had no hope.
A high-pitched keening had her looking around for the source of the sound. Suddenly, she realized the noise was coming from her as tears burned her eyes and wetted the hair around her temples. Get your mind off your situation and think of something good. Daffi frowned. What the fuck? I don’t have any good memories.
Then Phillip Andrews’ face formed in her mind, and all the upset, the confusion and her fear faded for a moment. Phillip. She focused on his chocolate-brown eyes. He called himself Phil, but she liked his full name of Phillip better. He looked like a Phillip with that strong jawline, neatly trimmed the dark hair and beard that framed his handsome face. He’d treated her with respect, something she hadn’t encountered in…well, she couldn’t recall anyone who had treated her so nicely.
“My cabin is on the west side of the creek just up from the Foraker Covered Bridge. There is a wetlands refuge on the right…”
Phil’s words wafted through her mind, a friendly breeze of alternative, of escape.
But did she dare?
With enormous effort, she rolled to the bedside and sat up, where she swayed, almost falling out of the bed. Nausea almost forced her to vomit. Although she knew Ezra wasn’t human, she had no idea what he really was and how he could drain her of all her strength just by screwing her. If she didn’t get away from him, away from the River Rebels for good, she wouldn’t last much longer.
Maybe if she could sneak out before Ezra returned she’d be able to reach Phil’s place. Her car was on a quarter tank of gas. Hopefully that was enough to reach his cabin.
If not, she’d crawl the rest of the way.
* * *
As another evening drew near, Phil sat on the back stoop toking on his pipe, the aroma of cherry-scented smoke twirling around his head. The air, riddled with the nippy taunt of impending snow, rushed across the lawn, ruffling leaves, gold and deep red chrysanthemums and the tall, unruly grass. It snatched the pipe smoke and hurled it high into the air where the white clouds dispersed.
Two does stood at the pond getting water. Phil contemplated shifting and giving chase, but no one really needed the meat right now for their freezers and he couldn’t see killing the deer for sport either, so he remained on the stoop, content to watch them drink and graze.
More winter-sprinkled air gusted over him. Early that morning, frost had blanketed everything. The women had been lucky to gather the last of the garden harvest when they had. Phil dreaded winter. He couldn’t ride his Harley, and it seemed all he got done was work his day job or haul coal and wood for folks to heat with in the community or here at the MC. He especially hated the idea that the cold drove people indoors, so encountering Daffi somewhere would be next to impossible unless he waited outside her workplace, which would be dangerous for her if the wrong person noticed.
He sighed. Damn, he wanted to see her so badly.
But why? What about the leggy blonde had him so tied in knots? Sure, she was a looker, a classic blonde bombshell who could step into the 1950s with class and poise and blend in with Hollywood without anyone ever being the wiser.
Her eyes, however, told a story of a woman who had gone through hell. The pain he saw in their green depths spoke to him. Phil wanted
to protect her.
He wanted to sink his cock balls-deep into her and feel her wrap her arms and legs around him, holding him so tightly he couldn’t breathe.
Toking on his pipe and blowing smoke, he shook his head and waited for the scented haze to dissipate, then sought the area where the does had been frolicking. If he took Daffodil away from the River Rebels it would start a war. That aside, he couldn’t bring her here with something evil preying on the Werewolves of Rebellion. He wanted to protect Daffodil, not put her in even more danger.
The wind changed direction, blowing out of the east. The gale ripped yellow and orange leaves free and hurled them into the air. They gyrated and swooped across the lawn, some catching on thick patches of unmown grass. Others clustered at the bases of trees and along the edge of out buildings and the backside of the workshop. The iciness of this wind took Phil’s breath away, and he turned his head until the gusts passed.
Clouds rolled in from the east too. Phil stared up at them in awe. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen a storm approach from the east, but it sure didn’t happen often. The fat clouds grew bigger, blacker, their edges trimmed in indigo that brightened eerily as lightning flashed. The area grew darker with the deepening twilight and the cloud coverage.
A crack of lightning startled him and he jumped where he sat on the step.
Cold gripped him, but this time it was the cooler weather. Icy fingers brushed through his hair, the wind pulsating as if it were actually breathing. His breath materialized in front of him. At the edge of the pond, the does looked up, then around, their movements quick, wary. They flipped their tails, then bounded into the woods with their tails straight up, signaling danger, the white of them stark in the gloom.
Unease, an even colder snake of discontent, slithered over Phil, winding about him in a choke hold of jeopardy. His hair tightened over his scalp, and his inner beast stirred at the sensation of danger. Phil smelled the air and drew it deep into his nose. There was something afoot, something supernatural.
Something evil.
Daffodil’s face emerged in his mind’s eye. Tears stained her cheeks and she appeared dead tired.
In that instant, he jumped to his feet, his pipe tumbling to the step. The glowing ash burst from it and scattered all over the stone.
He had to go to his cabin—now.
* * *
Daffi dressed in slim, formfitting jeans, a cami under a light sweater, and donned heavy socks with her knee-high, flat-heeled boots. Woozy and exhausted, she stumbled around her unit grabbing things she could stuff into a backpack Jess had given her. Two of everything landed in the bag from pants to tops to underwear and bras. She stuffed toiletries, tampons, and basic makeup into the second compartment along with two bottles of perfume, one of which was Hawaiian Ginger, something she felt compelled to pack when she remembered Bernadette’s compliment.
The door swung open, startling Daffi so badly that she cried out softly and stumbled against the bed.
“I’m sorry,” Jess whispered and shut the door. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
Daffi swept her friend with her gaze. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going with you.”
“Jess, this could end badly for me.”
“Just take me into Rebellion,” Jess pleaded. “I’ll figure things out from there. I’ve been here six months and still don’t have a car, so going with you is my only mode of escape.”
The desperate look in her friend’s eyes was Daffi’s undoing. How could she say no when she knew exactly what Jess was feeling?
“All right.” She nodded to the big shoulder bag Jess had slung over one shoulder. “Do you have everything you need in that thing?”
“Yep.” Jess grabbed the doorknob. “Ezra will be back in an hour, so we need to haul ass.”
With the backpack on, Daffi followed her into the hall. They made their way through the living units and down to the main floor to the hub of the MC. They ducked behind the jukebox and waited for an opportunity to make it to the next hiding spot. Daffi’s vision blurred. If her heart pumped blood any faster through her system, she’d pass out, but she couldn’t screw up now. If she didn’t take this chance, there may not be another one.
“I think everyone is occupied,” Jess said.
“We’ll go into the storage room and out the back,” Daffi whispered. “If we try going out the main entrance, someone will stop us.”
Fairly certain it was safe to move, Daffi rose and pressed herself to the wall, using the dim lighting to her advantage. She moved steadily and slowly until she reached the other corridor leading through the prostitutes’ quarters then on down the hall to a door that opened into the storage area. There shouldn’t be anyone in there right now, but she prepared herself for the worst anyway.
“You ready?” she mouthed to Jess.
Jess nodded, her dark eyes so wide the whites of them almost glowed.
Summoning a tiny bit more strength, Daffi pushed the door open and waited for someone to stop them or holler asking their business there. Silence reigned except for soft crying from where the cages sat, and darkness cloaked everything.
Rummaging came from Jess’ bag, then light flooded where they stood. “I thought a flashlight might come in handy, girlfriend.” Jess grinned, revealing her missing tooth.
Daffi took a long two-by-four from a broken crate and wedged one end under the door handle, lightly kicking the other end closer to the door to wedge the wood tightly. She started across the old warehouse section and passed the cages.
“Please,” a Latina about 17 said. “Let me out.”
“Let us all out.”
At the second voice, Jess swung the light over to find a boy of about 12 staring back at them with big, sad eyes. Daffi guessed him to be Native American.
“Please,” the boy said. “Just let us out so we at least have a chance to escape.”
“Me too, please,” another feminine voice joined in. “I’m the guardian for my little sister. There’s no one else who can take care of her.” She blinked and tears rolled down her face. “I’ve got to get home.”
Jess panned the beam over to a woman in her early 20’s, a redhead with heavy freckling over her face and huge, expressive brown eyes. “Fuck, I don’t need this,” she whispered, drawing Jess’ attention back to her. “I can’t let them…” She met each victim’s eyes. “Fuck it. Ezra keeps an extra key over there behind the fire extinguisher.”
“What the fuck, Daf? We can’t take them with us.”
“I can drop them at the sheriff’s office, then keep moving.”
Jess nodded, hurried to get the key, then began quietly unlocking cages. The prisoners rushed over to Daffi, who stepped back. They all began thanking her at once, but she silenced them with a stern look and her hand up, palm out. “You must be quiet or someone will find us!” she hissed. She looked the victims over. None of them had any clothes other than underwear. “It’s cold out and I don’t have any blankets, but if we can get to my car, I’ll turn the heater up, then the sheriff’s office will be warm too. I bet someone there will have blankets.”
They all nodded.
“We move together,” she told them, also looking at Jess. “Anyone who falls behind is left, got it?”
The prisoners all nodded again.
“Let’s go,” she said.
Daffi nudged the door on the far end of the room open a hair and peeked out. The cold weather had driven all the bikers indoors, thank God. Night had descended, the darkness heavier than usual. She peered upward, but couldn’t see because of the security lights. It smelled like snow, so she’d wager there was heavy cloud cover.
“Follow me and stay close,” she said over her shoulder.
Her car, parked around front, sat alone. Other vehicles were parked closer to the door. They waited behind a gas tank as several MC members clambered out of pickups and a Mustang and filed inside. Blaring country-western music now pulsed inside the MC. With relief, Daffi allow
ed herself a small smile. The wailing tunes would cover any outside noises such as her starting the engine.
Daffi dug her keys out of her jeans pocket, then jogged to her Ford Focus. Behind her, footsteps followed and Jess kept pace with her to one side. She hit the button to disengage the locks, and everyone climbed into her car as she jumped behind the steering wheel. She started the car and quietly backed up and turned around. She wanted to mash the gas pedal and tear out of the lot, but she needed to exercise calm. If she lost her mind now, gave over to fear and desperation, she’d be caught—they all would be.
Ten minutes up the road to Laings, she started to sob. Jess’ cries joined hers. Reaching out, Daffi waited for Jess to take her hand. Her friend threaded their fingers together, and, from between the front passenger seats, the victims each placed a hand on top of Daffi’s and Jess’ linked ones.
* * *
Daffi waited as the prisoners now with first names—Joseph, Rita, and Zoe—disappeared around the side of the sheriff’s office, their bodies riddled with goose flesh, feet bruised from parking lot stones, and wearing only their underwear, but now they were free. They’d all see their families again.
“You did good, girlfriend,” Jess said softly.
As Daffi turned at the green light, she had to admit that helping those people did feel good, wonderful in fact. She smiled and realized she didn’t want to part ways with her friend. “Why don’t you go with me?”
“Yeah?” Jess grinned back, her missing tooth somehow endearing. “Where you goin’?”
“I know of a place,” she began, “where I was invited. Haven’t been there, but I have a good idea where it is and it’s not too far. It’s secluded, so we’ll be safe.”
Jess sat quietly for a long moment, then replied, “Sounds good. But I won’t stay long, maybe a day, possibly two. I have a cousin who offered to come get me if I could get away from the MC long enough to contact her.”
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