And then Bucky turned back to the terrified prisoner still tied to the pole. "And, I'm afraid, that means that we don't need you any longer."
"Wait!"
The word came bubbling up out of the prisoner as Bucky aimed his own assault rifle at him. "I can tell you where they're going! Don't kill me! Please!"
Bucky hesitated, but this time Wolf decided to intervene. "They attacked us, stole one under our protection," the President announced aloud, clearly now coming to this decision.
A moment later, the President lunged forward, moving past Bucky. He crouched down in front of the scared prisoner. From somewhere in his clothing, Wolf had drawn a long, slim dagger, and he now tickled the prisoner's eye with it.
"You're going to tell us everything, right now," he told the man. Again, Wolf's voice was deadly calm, not filled with any anger or rage or emotion. That flatness only made it more terrifying.
Wolf glanced up over his shoulder. "And Cain, I assume that you'll be leading the charge to rescue this girl?"
Cain didn't bother wondering how the President had managed to read him so deeply, so quickly. He just nodded. "With great pleasure," he growled.
The President held Cain's gaze a moment longer, staring into his face. Cain did his best to not shiver in that flat, measuring stare. Finally, he spoke once more.
"If you look in my saddlebags, you might find a couple useful items," Wolf said. "But Cain?"
"Yeah?"
Wolf grinned, and in that moment the man resembled his namesake more than other. "If you do happen to find Archon, try not to kill him right away," he suggested. "A man like that could be very... useful, for a club like ours."
Cain started to open his mouth to reply, but Wolf kept talking. "Of course, the man just has to be able to talk and think," he went on, musing more to himself than to the other bikers. "If he gets roughed up a bit on the way over, well, that's no problem of mine."
The President paused, looking at Cain. He didn't need to ask if Cain understood him - both of the men had known each other long enough to be certain that they were both on the same wavelength.
With one last nod, Cain headed out to check out the President's saddlebags, while Wolf returned his attention back to the shivering prisoner.
Chapter twenty-one
Cain expected to find a shotgun, maybe a pistol stowed away in Wolf's saddlebags. And sure enough, those weapons were present - but they weren't the only things.
"Holy hell," Bucky murmured in a soft, awed whisper as Cain pulled out a couple of grenades, examining them for a moment before tucking them into pockets of his jacket. "Are you actually going to use those?"
The older biker just shrugged. Better to be prepared than to find himself in a situation when he needed something he didn't have, he thought privately to himself.
Once he'd loaded up his motorcycle with the weapons, however, Cain didn't waste any time in turning the engine on and getting on the road. For the moment, that blue dot on his phone's screen was still active - but he didn't know how long he had until Jenna's captors discovered the hidden phone and destroyed it.
He knew that the phone's discovery would not bode well for Jenna. Gritting his teeth, Cain promised himself that he'd find her before then, that he'd save her from being hurt - or worse - because of his lateness.
Cain wanted to take the lead, but Bucky stepped forward and convinced him to give up the front seat as they rolled out. "Trust me, I'm better at both tech and reading maps than you, old man," Bucky commented, easily snatching Cain's phone from his fingers. "Just follow after me, and keep that shotgun ready to blast anyone who tries to take a shot at us."
After a second, Cain decided not to protest. Instead, both he and Talon rolled their bikes up behind Bucky's, as he examined the map.
Cain was a little surprised that Talon had also decided to join them. Bucky was young, headstrong and impetuous, but Talon generally seemed to be focused more on just having a good time than on any sort of vigilante justice.
When he glanced over at the tall, rangy officer, however, Talon returned a stare that was almost as icy and flat as Wolf's. After a moment, Cain shrugged and let the matter drop. Talon clearly had his own reasons for going along on this mission, and Cain wasn't about to turn away a volunteer.
After examining the phone for a minute, Bucky started down the driveway, the other two bikers following closely behind him. They headed down the main road towards the town, but took a couple detours, turning off of the main road and instead using some of the little-used two-lane country roads that stretched out around the periphery of town.
Close to half an hour later, Bucky's brake lights lit up as he slowed and pulled over to the side of the road, near a driveway's turn-off point. Once his bike had come to a stop, he turned off the engine and dropped the kickstand, stepping off the bike and signaling to the other two that they should do the same.
"If they haven't ditched the cell phone, it looks like she's in there," he commented quietly to the other two bikers as they approached him.
"In where?" Cain asked, looking around. The darkness that surrounded them was near-absolute.
Bucky pointed along the driveway. "There's a big building up this driveway, just a little bit. Looks like some sort of warehouse or something on the map, which makes sense since this whole area is all abandoned industrial park. That could be where Archon's running this operation, keeping these girls prisoner."
For a moment, all three men stared up through the darkness, trying to make out any detail of the warehouse. Once again, Bucky spoke first. "So, how do you want to play this? Run in, guns blazing?"
The idea certainly appealed to Cain, but he shook his head. He was gratified to also see Talon doing the same. "I think stealth is our best bet, here," the rangy biker suggested, digging out guns from his own bike's saddlebags. "At least until we can find this girl - and see if there are others that need our help."
Cain looked at Talon for a moment. This definitely didn't sound like the normal party-loving Iron Skull! But the man looked murderously busy as he armed himself, and Cain decided to nod and do the same.
A minute later, Bucky had his seized rifle up against his shoulder and pointing forward into the darkness. Behind him, both men held shotguns, and all three bikers had shoved pistols into their waistbands. Cain also felt the comforting weight of those grenades in his pockets; he hoped he wouldn't need them, but he also had to admit that he enjoyed knowing how much firepower he carried.
With Bucky leading, they advanced up the driveway, crouching and moving slowly. All three men kept their eyes and ears peeled, watching for any sentries.
Two minutes in, they spotted one, as a match suddenly flared into brilliant life, less than a dozen feet from them.
Fortunately, the sentry was just as blinded by that sudden light as the bikers. The guard seemed focused only on lighting his cigarette, and Cain seized the opportunity to creep closer. He moved through the grass until he crouched behind the man.
This time, Cain didn't have to bring the guy down with his hands. Instead, he brought the butt of his shotgun around as he rose up from his crouch, connecting firmly with the back of the man's skull. The guard didn't even have time to cry out before he dropped, unconscious and boneless, down into the dirt.
Bucky and Talon both rushed forward, Talon reaching into a pocket and pulling out a couple of twist ties. "You weren't the only one who thought to come prepared," he replied, when the other two bikers glanced at him with their eyebrows raised in surprise.
It didn't take long to truss the guard and search him. Along with a gun, the man also carried a walkie talkie, which Cain clipped onto his own belt.
"There might be more," he warned the other bikers, as they continued on through the brush, towards the warehouse.
However, if there were any other guards wandering the property, Cain, Bucky and Talon didn't encounter them. They kept on creeping forward until they saw the large dark shape of the warehouse loom out of the su
rrounding night, blocking the sky and stars.
A guard leaned up against the closed door to the warehouse, looking more than half asleep. Throwing back his shoulders, Cain strode forward confidently, into the small circle of light cast by the naked bulb above the door.
The guard looked up at his approach, but he paused for a moment before frowning and opening his mouth, presumably to ask Cain what he was doing here. Cain, however, didn't give the man a chance to talk, bringing the butt of his shotgun around. His first hit connected with the guard's gut, doubling the sentry over, and Cain's next blow came down squarely on top of his head.
The guard crumpled, with little more than a low groan.
Now, Cain thought, came the tricky part. For a moment, as Talon once again bent down to bind the guard's wrists and drag him off to the side, where he wouldn't be immediately found, Cain looked at the closed door of the warehouse with his arms crossed. If he opened the door, would that alert everyone on the inside? Was there some signal connected to the door?
He thought briefly about trying to wake up the guard and ask him. That, however, seemed like too much work - and there'd be no way to know whether the guard was lying. Cain briefly closed his eyes, trying to think through all the possibilities.
With his eyes closed, however, he was more aware than ever of that strong undercurrent of rage, a below-ground river still flowing in his mind. Even as he tried to remain calm and collected, a part of Cain wanted to throw the door to this warehouse open and run in like a berserker, blowing away anyone he spotted. That temptation held more strength than Cain would have liked, and he wavered briefly on the verge of giving in.
Trying to calm down his burning thoughts, he glanced over at Bucky and Talon. "We're going to have to risk it," he said, reaching out for the handle to the warehouse door. "You two ready?"
Both men hoisted their weapons, tightening their grip on the guns. "Ready," Bucky replied, and Talon nodded.
Taking one last deep breath, Cain nodded back to them - and then threw open the door, slipping inside before it had time to even bang against the wall of the warehouse.
Without hesitation, both of the other bikers hurried in after him, their guns up and at the ready. All three men had their fingers poised on the triggers as they entered, ready for anything.
But inside, all three of them stopped, lowering their weapons slightly as they stared around the interior of the building in shock.
Chapter twenty-two
The hood covered Jenna's face, but she didn't need to see outside to know when the van had returned to the dungeon. She felt the speed of the vehicle slow, felt the tires bump over the ridges that marked where the huge doors slid open and closed to admit the van into the big building.
For a moment, as the engine turned off, she wondered what was next in store for her. Would the men try and pry information out of her? Would they use her for their own passions, as they had done so many times in the past? Or would they just throw her into a cell, leaving her in the cold dampness and darkness until they were ready to get rid of her?
None of the options sounded particularly appealing.
It didn't take long before the men around her, and Jenna herself, were on the move. Once the van had come to a stop, they pulled the door open, murmuring to each other as they climbed out amid the clink of weapons.
"What should we do with her, boss?" asked one of the other men, probably addressing the question to Bulldog.
Beneath the hood, Jenna did her best to not move. Pretend to be nonresisting, she thought to herself. Maybe they wouldn't search her. The longer she could hold onto the phone, the greater her chances of having Cain and the others come to find her.
"Should we toss her in a cell for now, until you call the boss?" another asked, reaching out and seizing hold of Jenna's arm. She tried not to flinch at the sudden, unexpected grab.
Mentally, Jenna tried to send thoughts to Bulldog for him to agree. In a cell, she could take the time to dig the phone out of her bra! Maybe she could make a call of some sort, for help, or at least figure out where she was. She just needed a little time alone, with no one else watching her-
But Bulldog evidently had other ideas. "No, strap her to the chair," he announced with a grunt.
Another hand darted forward, this one grabbing painfully onto Jenna's ass. Bulldog - and it had to be him - squeezed her ass painfully, and then slid his hand around to her front side, shoving it roughly in between her thighs and up against her vagina.
"I think maybe I'll have some fun with her, before we kill her," he suggested, and the other men sniggered. "After all, might as well get our fun before we have to dump her in a ditch, right?"
A couple of the other men offered lewd suggestions of their own, but Jenna forced herself to ignore those other voices, to block them out. Before, when she'd been a prisoner here, she'd managed to build her own little mental prison, although this one was more of a shelter for her against the ravages of these savage men on her body. Inside that little shelter, all their attacks and desecrations of her body couldn't reach her mind.
Now, as the men hauled her backwards toward the chair that they'd strap her into before her abuses began, she sought to reach that shelter once again. It had already started to slide and melt away in her mind since she'd escape, but she could build it up again.
At least until they killed her, it might offer her mind some small level of protection.
Jenna felt her knees bump up against something behind her, and the hands switched to force her down into the chair. Before she could respond or try and pull herself up, those hands grabbed her wrists and ankles, pulling them up against the metal bars of the chair and lashing them in place with ropes or bindings of some sort.
In just a few seconds, she was pinned in place.
Once she was tied down, her hood was once again wrenched off her head. Sure enough, she immediately recognized the dingy walls and tall ceiling. She was back in the warehouse - the place where she'd felt forever imprisoned, where she had been certain that she was going to die, raped and abandoned.
Now, Jenna felt a wave of anguish wash over her. For just one glorious day, she'd escaped - only to be dragged back here! It seemed like she would never be able to escape, like this was her fated destiny.
But then, Bulldog stepped up to fill her vision, leering down at her with that jowly face. He saw all her pain, her anguish, and reveled in it.
"Well, looks like the bitch is back!" he growled at her, stalking forward. Once again he slapped her, again without warning. "And this time, you're not getting away from us again!"
Jenna glared hot fire back at him, but kept her mouth shut. For just a moment, she saw Bulldog frown at her resistance, and felt a little spark of angry vengeance.
The man shook off his frown, however, reaching for her once again. This time, he seized her blouse, and Jenna was helpless to try and push his hands away.
With a single swift yank, the man ripped the pink blouse down the front, spilling it open to reveal her bra beneath. Jenna held her breath, realizing that the phone tucked into her bra strap was now revealed.
Bulldog almost missed it. For several seconds, his eyes were locked on Jenna's, full of small-minded retribution. It wasn't until his hand darted forward to pinch cruelly at her tits that he felt the rectangular obstruction.
"What the Hell?" He pulled the phone out, holding it up and staring at it in perplexed, idiotic surprise. "How the hell did she sneak this in?"
Bulldog spun around to stare at the other men still standing around, his eyes blazing. "Who's the fucker who didn't search the bitch!?" he shrieked, throwing the phone overhand at the nearest man. The man dodged, and the phone clattered off the ground, skidding to stop off in some corner.
Jenna desperately prayed that the throw hadn't broken the device.
The men glanced at each other, and several made murmuring noises. None of them looked willing to admit any guilt, however, and after a few seconds they expressed that Bulldog hi
mself hadn't ordered any of them to search her, so no one had bothered to do so.
With a growl, Bulldog reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol. "Idiots, all of you!" he shouted, waving the gun up in the air. He pulled the trigger, shooting the gun up at the ceiling.
The other men edged back, away from that wildly waving pistol. Their employer was often fun to watch when his anger was directed at someone else, but they all knew that he had a screw or two loose. None of them wanted that weapon pointed in their direction.
But after a second or two, Bulldog took a deep breath, lowering the gun a bit and managing to get ahold of his temper, if only slightly. He returned his attention back to Jenna, putting on a sinister looking grin that didn't do anything to calm her nerves. "But that doesn't matter, now," he said, speaking as much to himself as to her.
"See, right now, you're still tied up and captive. And once I'm tired of having my way with you, well, I just have to call my boss, and make sure he can hear as I put a couple bullets into you." He gestured with the gun. "And then you'll be dead, and this whole damn thing will be over and done with."
With the hand not holding the gun, Bulldog began undoing the belt that held up his pants, struggling against the clasp and latch. "So, bitch, you better give me a good last fuck," he growled, as he tugged his clothes down, pulling out his hairy cock. "Hell, you should try and enjoy it!
"After all, it's going to be the last one that you ever get."
Around them, some of the other men ducked away, perhaps not wanting to watch as their boss raped this girl. Most of them, however, stuck around. On some of their faces, Jenna could even see sinister grins of their own as they watched eagerly. Some of these men were almost as wicked as their boss.
As Bulldog began to advance forward, Jenna suddenly heard a faint scraping sound, barely audible. Her ears immediately placed it as the door at the other end of the warehouse opening.
She doubted that it would matter. It was probably just some of the guards, coming in to switch shifts. Or maybe it was one of the clients, stopping by for a late-night session with one of the other girls here.
CHAINED: A Motorcycle Club Romance Page 10
