Torch (Tarnished Souls MC Book 1)
Page 14
“Someone better start talking, right now.” I declare, the anxiety I’m feeling starting to come out through anger. I don’t know what the hell happened. I do know if someone doesn’t tell me soon everyone is going to see what happens when, Mount Mia, blows.
“We didn’t find Serenity or Taz, but we did find something else.” Torch says, “there was a basement in each house. The first one had cages and other equipment. The second was lined with dirty cots and clothes.” He pauses, giving me time to let the information sink in. Hearing that they had dirty cots and clothes all over the floor instantly brought forth an image of the room we were held in. The smells. The noise. The all-consuming sense of helplessness.
“What are you saying?” I ask, needing to hear it said out loud. All the possibilities running through my mind is making it hard to breath. We are not the only girls they kidnapped? Are there more out there?
“We believe they’re more than just the small-town sex ring we originally thought. These safe houses are being used as holding cells for the women they take.”
“No…no..That can’t be true.” I whisper in denial. Just thinking about all the things, I could have been doing to help them, makes me sick. Why did I just assume that we were the only ones? “You can’t be sure those cages weren’t used for animals.” I state, grasping at straws, making one last ditch effort to explain away the evidence.
Scarlett starts crying now, her shoulders shaking from the break down she is sure to have. There’s something I’m not getting. The sympathetic looks Saint and Torch send her way, proof enough. Then, like a gunshot to the chest, reality hits me hard. Scarlett knows firsthand what those cages were used for. Like so many times before my heart breaks for her. It’s time for me to step up, and protect her like she truly deserves.
“I’m going with you next time.” I say to Torch, quickly adding “or she doesn’t go at all.” The expression on his face forces me to turn around quickly. I need to get Scarlett into the house where she can be with Sammy and Rebecca. It’s obvious Torch and I are about to have a discussion, of sorts, and I refuse to add any more stress to her already fragile mind.
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“You’re not going.” Torch calmly states, as he closes the door to our bedroom. No faster, had I handed Scarlett off to Sammy, than Torch was dragging me here. I’m actually surprised he’s managing to keep his composer, considering he must know deep down there will be no way to change my mind.
“We can discuss this like adults, or not at all.” I state, taking a page from his book, keeping my voice level. He stands in front of me, arms crossed over his chest, feet shoulder length apart, daring me to argue. I know his body language as well as he does mine, and I can tell he’s anything but calm. That is his, try to disobey me, stance. Regardless of how good he looks, in those tight wranglers and black shirt, I need to stand my ground.
“There is no discussion to have, Mia. You’re not going. End of story.” He smugly states, eyes narrowing in on mine. “Last I checked I was my own boss, so yes I will be going.” I say, calm and composed, trying to get him to see reason.
“Don’t press your luck, Spitfire, you won’t like the outcome.”
“Is that a threat?” I ask, not at all liking the smug grin that pulls at his lips. Torch and I have never really had a fight mainly because he has this bizarre effect on me. I usually cave into his will. Not this time. Taking a deep breath, I turn around, giving him my back. I really want to knock that look off his face, but getting close to him is not a good idea. He will just over power me, playing my body like a fined toned instrument, until he has me second guessing my choices. Trying to come up with a way to channel my anger, the alarm clock comes into view, and despite the many second thoughts I’m having, I walk to it. Yanking the cord out of the wall, spinning around, pulling my shoulder back like a pitcher for the, New York Yankees. The black device goes soaring through the air, heading right for Torch’s head.
He manages to duck out of the way, just in time, before the plastic breaks from hitting the door behind him, tiny pieces scattering across the floor. If I thought he was angry before, that was nothing compared to now. A sense of fear comes over me, before my anger tells it to fuck off. Grabbing the book, from the side table, that I was reading just last night, I chunk it as well. This time he catches the damn thing before it hits him. Tossing it to the ground. Taking a step toward me his eyes telling me everything his mouth won’t. I’d be smart not to let him catch me.
Climbing onto the bed, house shoes and all, I grab the last item on the table, thinking about how lucky I am to have worn my tight pajamas today. When I move to get by, the beast I’ve awoken, there is nothing loose for him to grab onto. The room is actually quite large, the bed being in the middle, with enough space on both sides for me to freely run. However, Torch is walking straight toward the center of the bed, so he can easily catch me from either side.
“Don’t come near me.” I threaten, holding the remote for the T.V. out like it’s some new high-tech weapon. His steps falter, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind, before barking out a laugh. Wait, what? When did this become funny. Here I am pissed off, trying to threaten this man with bodily harm, and he is laughing at me. My eyes narrow, causing his laughter to cease, giving me some of my confidence back.
“You better hope that remote can save you, Spitfire, because when I catch you I’m going to fuck you as hard as I want.” He threatens. Glancing down at his crotch I can see the outline of his hard on. This man, that I love, is a pervert. He’s getting his jollies off, instead of being scared like most normies would. When his legs hit the end of the bed I know there is roughly nine feet separating us. If I time it just right, after he moves to grab me, I can hurdle over him like a track star. Torch, stands there, staring me down, taking his time to ogle my entire body. Then he licks his lips, distracting me, before making his move. Thankfully, I’m faster than I look, and just as he dives I leap. Landing hard on the floor, hurting my knees in the process, I don’t let it slow me down. Crawling, as fast as I can, I almost manage to get up before he is standing over me. Grabbing onto my hair, not hard enough to hurt, just enough to stop me in my tracks. “Turn around, Mia.” He commands, his voice leaving no room for argument. Damn him and damn that gravelly tone that sets my nerve endings on fire. Doing as I’m told, I turn toward him, still on my knees. I tell myself not to look up, because I know the minute I do, he’ll have won. Then he starts unbuttoning his pants, pulling down his zipper, releasing his hardened length. With one hand still firmly gripping my hair, he runs the other down his hardness, “open your mouth.” He commands, tightening his hold on me. Like the wanton hussy I am, I open my mouth without a thought. “No teeth.” He says, all laughter gone from his voice. He knows by saying it out loud I can’t claim it was an accident if I did decide to use them. He is a brave man for shoving his dick in the mouth of a woman he just pissed off, but I must admit I’m no longer mad. There is a new emotion burning through my veins.
Slowly entering my mouth, until I can feel him at the back of my throat, Torch lets out a growl. The satisfaction that blooms in my chest is just another example of how he owns me body and soul. I want to please him. I need show him what I can’t always say.
“Suck harder.” He instructs. Waiting until he is at the back of my throat again, I swallow, then hollow out my cheeks as he starts pulling out. “I fucking love your mouth.” He grunts, increasing his speed. With each thrust, the muscles in my throat start to relax, taking him in further.
“Up.” He roars, making me think I’ve done something wrong. Then, I finally look at him, seeing the vein in his neck jolting out. “It’s not your mouth I wanna cum in, Mia.” The confirmation that I haven’t done anything wrong has me jumping up, eager to be rewarded for my obedience. He starts ripping my clothes off, roughly, walking me toward the bed.
“I’m about to fuck the brattiness right out of you, Spitfire.” He threatens, turning me around. Forcefully bending me over, n
ot bothering to caress me like he usually does, he slams into me with one thrust. I can feel the roughness of the denim on my bare legs, his strong hands grabbing my hips, and the combination sends a jolt of pleasure straight to my core. He doesn’t bother pointing out how wet I am, or how tight my pussy feels. With powerful strokes, he slams into me, just to pull out and enter at a different angle. The mixture of pain and pleasure easily has me on the brink, my body needing this. Obviously atoned to my needs, Torch reaches between us, placing the tiniest bit of pressure on my clit. The orgasm that follows is powerful enough to weaken my legs, leaving him to hold my weight. When he pulls out, I’m thinking he is going to climax on my back but he surprises me by flipping me over.
With my legs dangling over the bed, he goes to his knees, spreading me wide with his hands. The warm sensation of his tongue on my pussy has me arching off the mattress, due to the sensitivity of my clit. The slightest touch is a mixture of exquisite pleasure and pain. Torch, without warning, slams two fingers into my opening, curling them in a way that has me back on the brink. He starts circling his tongue around my clit while rubbing the inside of my walls, before licking directly over my core. He keeps the same rhythm, my body now anticipating his pattern, until I can’t hold back the orgasm. I easily explode on a scream, toes curling, back arching. Trying to come down from the blissfulness that is my world right now, he slams into me again, intensifying the feeling of ecstasy.
“Say it, Mia.” He demands. Always wanting to hear the same thing right before he cums. Opening my eyes, smiling an evil smile, I debate not saying it. Torch grabs me by the throat, never missing a beat, continuously slamming into me.
“Say it…” He roars, gaze becoming menacing. No longer wanting to torture him, I reply with the phrase my caveman loves to hear. “I’m yours, Torch. I belong to you.” The moment I feel him swelling inside me, he lets a growl of satisfaction out, before giving one last thrust.
“Your mine.” He growls, filling me with his cum.
Slowly sliding out of me, he strips out of his clothes, before getting in bed. Moving us to the center of the mattress, Torch drapes my naked body over his. Snuggling into his bare chest, I start outlining his tattoo with my index finger, something I’ve started to do, to help me fall asleep. We both remain quiet, enjoying the silence, allowing our heart rates to once again beat at a normal rate.
“I can’t lose you, Mia.” Torch states, breaking the silence.
“You have…” I start to say, before he interrupts me. “Let me finish. I can’t lose you, but I can’t keep you from protecting someone you love, either. It’s your turn to make me a promise, Mia. I’m the sergeant at arms. You are to listen to me, what I say, goes. No arguing, no questioning. I will expect your instant obedience like I do from everyone else.”
Raising my head from his chest, I gaze into his deep blue eyes, “I promise to be the best Mia you’ve ever seen, Romeo.” I say, ending the sentence on a giggle when his dimple comes out of hiding. Sometimes I wish I would have met him under different circumstances. Then I realize that would mean Sammy, Rebecca, and Scarlett wouldn’t be in my life. I find it’s hard to regret anything. Remembering that, I would take out smelly trash, by myself, a million times over if it meant being here with Torch, protecting my new family.
Chapter 23
Mia
Now that I’m tagging along on the mission I’ve formerly nicknamed, The Blacktop Creepers Hunt, Scarlett is riding on the back of Teller’s bike. She didn’t complain about it; she also didn’t look happy. I offered to let her ride with, Torch, but the mere mention of me on the back of another man’s motorcycle nearly had him screaming, “SMASH,” before turning an ugly shade of green. So, here I sit, wind blowing in my face, arms securely wrapped around, my man, feeling as if I’m on the road that will lead nowhere. There is nothing out here but small cactuses, little trees for deer to hide in, and dirt. A perfect place to hide abandoned houses, that look to be falling apart, while using them to lodge the women you are kidnapping, torturing, and planning on selling to the highest bidder. There are no police around, only border patrol, because how close we’re to the border of, Mexico.
Pulling onto, yet another, bumpy road, Torch pulls off the main path. I shake my head, trying not to inhale the cloud of dust that formed when he stopped, before taking off my helmet. Dressed in solid black, from head to toe, we all look like a gang of bank robbers. The only color coming from the various patches the members are wearing on their cuts.
“We need to walk the rest of the way.” Nodding my head in understanding, I wait right beside Torch, following his direction perfectly. He drilled me for thirty minutes about the dos and don’ts for tonight. I’m to stay right beside him, no matter what, this he said at least five times. Perhaps the funniest thing he demanded I do is control my anger. Let’s say we come across one of those pigs, that are doing unthinkable things to women, I’ve been forbidden to attack, talk, or engage with him. I guess, Romeo, does know me better than anyone, because all three of those are something I would do.
“Mia..” Scarlett whispers. Teller parked his bike right beside Torch’s. She is standing next to me, her round eyes looking bigger than I’ve ever seen them. “Okay. Mia, you are to stay behind me, Scarlett you stay behind Mia, and Teller you will be the end of this fucking, crazy, human train we are forming.” Torch commands, not sounding happy about the situation.
“You here that, Scarlett. Teller gets to be the caboose.” I say, just trying to lighten the mood. I know better than most the severity of the position we’re in, and I’m just trying to lessen some of the tension from Scarlett and myself.
“Mia..” Torch states, his voice lined with a warning. I did promise him that I would behave. “Sorry..” I mumble, not the least bit sincere.
“Let’s go.” Torch, demands, leading the group east. At least that is what I heard, Saint, say during our meeting before we left the club house. We would park east of the house and walk the rest of the way. I think it’s a little over a mile, but I’m not entirely sure. I was more concerned with, Scarlett’s, reactions to everything being said than I was about the hike.
The moon is bright in the sky, making it easier to see where we are going, lighting up the landscape around us. Like I stated before, there is nothing out here, that could give us any cover. So, all we really have is the element of surprise. Scarlett is holding onto the back of my shirt, for dear life, forcing me to walk awkwardly. My fingers are wrapped around, Torch’s, belt loop. That’s the securest place I could find, considering he has a gun in one hand, and a knife in the other. The adrenaline running through my blood stream has managed to distract me from the time, because I could have sworn we just started walking, yet I can see the house in the distance.
“Torch..” I whisper, “there are lights on.” My voice sounds strange to my own ears, so when Torch turns around, concern lining his face, I try to reassure him by seeming calm. Although, I feel far from it.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He questions, like I could honestly back out now. It’s a little too late for that. We’re here, so are they, now is the time to worry about striking, not me.
“I’m fine, Romeo.” I say, somehow managing to get my tone to go back too normal. After a brief pause, Torch, turns around giving the men hand gestures. Some type of secret hand code they’ve practiced, and seem to know very well. He gives me one last look, continuing on our path, obviously convinced I’m okay.
My heart is beating out of my chest. Sure, that everyone can hear it, I try muffling it with my free hand. With each step, we take, getting closer to the door, I can feel my feet wanting to turn the opposite direction. Scarlett has somehow gotten even closer to me, her breath directly on the back of my neck. When, Torch, is mere inches away from the door, he stops, waiting for Scarlett to walk forward. We have no way of knowing if there is someone here for sure, because the way we came in didn’t allow us to see the back of the house. There could be ten men in there, their bikes p
arked right outside, and we’re none the wiser.
I don’t know what I was expecting when she put her hand on the pad, but the soft sound of an unlocking mechanism wasn’t it. That device looks too high tech to be that simple. “Mia, right behind me.” Torch warns, making it the sixth time he has said it. He doesn’t wait for a confirmation from me, instead nudging the door open with his boot, before entering with his firearm pointed in front of him.
The smell of the house brings back too many memories. It’s a combination of sweat, foul body odor, the stench of human waste, and over all depression. I know what you’re thinking. Depression doesn’t have a smell, but to you I say, live through what we did. Then you can have an opinion on the matter. The bright light shining from the tiny kitchen seems to be the cause of glow we seen outside. There is not much of a sitting room, basically just an entry way that leads into the kitchen. Off to the right is a door, that is closed, most likely to a bedroom. Scarlett said this was the smallest house of the ten.
Torch motions for someone to check the kitchen, leading the four of us to the bedroom. Once inside, the smell gets worse, but is soon forgotten as soon as I see the computer monitor in the corner. There, on top of a wooden desk, sits a computer screen. That is not what forces, Torch, to pause, or Scarlett to muffle a cry. On the light, up screen, several boxes are outlined, all of them playing a tiny horror film.
“No, Mia.” Torch says, when I step around him to walk closer. Ignoring his command, I continue my path, only stopping when I come face to face with my old nightmare. There are fifteen screens, some blacked out, others playing videos of women, young girls, locked in cages, curled in on themselves while crying. Some are pacing the floor to their private basements, others are rocking, nude, in the corner of their room. Looking at the box to the far left, I can’t help the paralysis that overcomes my muscles. I know that woman, I know that man, and I’m pretty sure I’m staring into the face of, Slasher, as he stands over them.