Fury

by Jenika Snow

  Her heart was beating so hard it hurt, and sweat lined her brow and between her breasts. She looked down at herself, breathing out when she realized she was at least wearing her clothes. But who had put them on her?

  “Hello?” She whispered at first, not sure if she should have even said anything for fear of who’d put her in this room and strung her up.

  Silence greeted her.

  She didn’t know what to do. Maybe screaming wasn’t the best choice given the fact whoever had put her in this situation didn’t want her to leave. But what if someone else could hear her, help her?

  “Help,” she screamed out, willing to take that chance. Angelina struggled harder, gritting her teeth against the pain of the rope tightening around her wrists. She tried in vain again to recall what in the hell happened after she’d gotten in the bath, but the more she tried to remember, the more her head hurt. “Help,” she cried out again. She glanced around the room once more, and even knowing what was in the room, she looked for another way out.

  First you have to get yourself untied.

  And then, pushing past the pain to get to her memories, it sparked in her brain like a light bulb coming on. She remembered someone coming up from behind her, his big body dwarfing hers. He’d been in a dark t-shirt and denim, his face hard in expression, cold in appearance. He’d held a rag over her mouth and nose, and she hadn’t been able to help but breathe in. It had been a sickly sweet odor, one that had made it impossible to fight him back. After that everything had gone dark.

  She’d been taken by God only knew who, and all she could think about was the shit that would be done to her. Was this someone getting back at her father, her family? Was it just some run of the mill psycho? Angelina had been right about being followed, about having that fear consume her at every turn. She should have taken better precautions at staying safe.

  I should have run.

  And then she heard the sound of heavy boots coming closer to the closed door. She held her breath, her entire body tensing, her pulse beating hard and frantic. Sweat started to cover her face and the back of her neck, sliding down the valley between her breasts.

  All she could think about was what would happen.

  Maybe it wasn’t someone after her father or just a maniac. Maybe it was her father. Had she finally been found? Was it his men that had done this to her? It wasn’t Sal’s normal move, but it had been months since she’d spoken to her father, and she knew desperate times made people do twisted things. The Cardonas weren’t known for their level headed or rational thinking.

  She could hear the thumping of her heart beating wildly, and as she watched the door handle turn, she felt the rise of fear to a level she’d never envisioned.

  Angelina had lived a life that was filled with violence and danger. She was used to knowing fear was something that held people in check. But the truth of the matter was others that wouldn’t let anything happen to her had always surrounded her. But Angelina had hated that life, and that was why she’d left, run from it all and was staying low.

  And look at where I’m at now.

  The door pushed open, and she felt her eyes widen at the beast of a man standing in the doorway.

  It’s him, from my bathroom, the one that drugged me.

  This man, who wore a pair of loose fitting worn-in jeans, a dark t-shirt, and a biker leather vest, was by far the largest man she’d seen. On his vest the name “Fury” was stitched into a patch on one side of the leather.

  He just stood there, staring at her from the doorway, and the power and strength that came from him frightened her to the point she felt her hands shake in their bonds.

  He didn’t say anything for long moments, and that made him all the more frightening. She licked her lips, not knowing if she should say anything. But then he brought his bottle of beer to his mouth and took a long drink from it as he watched her intently.

  Angelina started to hyperventilate when he took a step closer. He walked over to the dresser and set the bottle on it, watching her the whole time.

  “What do you want? Why am I here?” she finally managed to stutter out. She tried moving back on the bed, instinct telling her to get away from him, but being bound only allowed her to bend her knees.

  “You’ve been out for longer than I thought,” he said, his voice deep, serrated like a rusty knife digging into her flesh. “Glad you came around though. I have a lot planned for us.” He was at the edge of the bed, his arms crossed, his muscles bulging.

  She shook her head, not sure why she was doing the act. “Why am I here?” she asked again.

  He stayed silent for a second before speaking again. “You’re here because of your father.” His voice was so deep she felt it throughout her whole body. He moved to the head of the bed, and she couldn’t do anything but look up at him, knowing her fear was clear in every part of her. He reached out, and she flinched, not knowing if he’d hit her. But instead he grabbed a lock of her dark hair and lifted it up, rubbing it between his fingers, staring at the strands.

  She was frozen as she watched him.

  “Your father fucked up, and you’re the one that will help make this right.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.

  He dropped the strands and looked into her eyes. “No?”

  She shook her head.

  He gave her a half smile, but it was far from amused. “Your father isn’t Sal Cardona?” He lifted a brow.

  Her throat was closing, her tongue became thick, and her mouth dried. She knew lying at this point might only make things worse, if that was even possible.

  “I have nothing to do with what my father does or has done. I don’t want anything to do with him or my family.” He stayed silent, and she licked her dry lips again. “I haven’t spoken to him or anyone from the Family in months.”

  He held her gaze, his expression unmovable. Yet he still didn’t speak.

  “If you’re trying to get even with him for something he did, I’m the last person that can help. My father doesn’t want anything to do with me.” That last part was a lie, because she knew her father wouldn’t let her just leave. She was blood, in the Family for life, and her running from them had only made things worse. But she couldn’t turn back, even if she wanted to. She didn’t want that life, but it seemed even running couldn’t keep away the darkness that surrounded.

  “You want me to believe you left that all behind?”

  She nodded.

  “You think your father doesn’t know where you’re at?”

  She stilled.

  “If I could find you this easily, the Cardonas have known where you’re at, Princess.”

  Could he hear the sound of her heart beating so fast and hard? “B-believe me,” she stuttered the words out. “My father wants nothing to do with me,” she lied again.

  “You’re not as good a liar as you may think. If Sal’s alive he’ll want something to do with you, especially after he realizes what I plan on doing.”

  If Sal’s alive?

  She swallowed again, not knowing if that information should have made her happy or slightly unnerved. Her father was a hard man to kill, and she knew since she’d witnessed three attempts to take him out.

  “What do you plan on doing with me?” Angelina was afraid to ask, but she found herself posing the question anyway.

  He smirked again. “Princess, you’re going to help me in a lot of ways.” He winked, and it made her stomach tightened with fear and apprehension. “Once I find out all I need from you and your family, you’re what I’ll be using in case shit goes ugly again with the Cardonas.”

  “You’re wasting your time with me,” she whispered again, the tears threatening to spill.

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” He looked her up and down, and she saw a spark in his gaze, a telling sign this wasn’t just about getting information about her family. “And if it’s nothing,” he said almost to himself, and looked at her face again, a dark smile cro
ssing his features, “then I’ll still have some fun with you, sweet Angelina.”

  She felt her eyes widen. “Please,” she said and shook her head. “You don’t have to do this. I don’t know anything.” She felt her tears fall then. “My father never told me anything. I was just his daughter, not worthy of Family business.” He had to believe her.

  But his smile faded and he looked pissed. “I deserve my vengeance because your father and his men hurt something I hold close.”

  She shook her head, thinking of all kinds of frighteningly horrifying things this man planned on doing with her, to her.

  She’d rather die than let any of that happen.

  Chapter Four

  Fury shut the bedroom door behind him and locked it, feeling like a motherfucker. Angelina had been terrified, her tears like a hot poker right through his gut. He’d never been so cold and callous to a female, never had to threaten her, make her cry. Despite the fact he couldn’t let her go, and that he’d need her for his own personal gain, Fury still felt like a dirty bastard.

  He headed into the kitchen of the two-bedroom cabin he’d brought her to. It was owned by the MC, one that was rarely used unless they needed to get away from shit, or needed a place to crash while things calmed down.

  Fury grabbed a bottle of scotch and a glass out of the cabinet. He just finished pouring the cup full when his cell went off. He stepped out onto the porch before answering it. No need for the club to hear her scream out if she knew someone might be able to hear.

  “Yeah?” he said, and took a drink of the liquor. He leaned against the porch banister and stared at the thick expanse of forest that lined all angles of the house. The cabin was out in the middle of nowhere, situated on enough property that it ensured no one else would be close enough to hear or see them.

  “Man, where you at?” Stone, one of the members of the MC said. The sound of the other member inhaling and exhaling came through before Fury spoke.

  “I had business to take care of.” Fury may be the president of the MC, but shit still needed to be brought to the club for a vote. He also shouldn’t have just up and left without at least telling them where he was. But telling them he was at the cabin meant one of them might come up here unannounced. That, he couldn’t have. Even though the club did some shady shit, if the members knew he was holding a woman here against her will, hell would rain down.

  “You at the cabin?” Stone asked, and Fury cursed internally. He didn’t answer right away, just drank more scotch. “I’ll take your silence as affirmation.” Stone exhaled again.

  “Birdie doing any better?” Just thinking about his lifelong friend held up and wounded because of what the Cardonas did to him had rage engulfing him again. Fury didn’t get his club name because he kept his anger in check.

  “The same,” Stone said.

  “The doctor say anything about his recovery?” Birdie had been staying at the club, their back alley doctor helping to get the newly patched-in member on the up and up.

  “Nothing new, but you know Birdie is a tough bastard.”

  Fury nodded even though he was alone. Birdie was one tough motherfucker. He’d saved Fury’s life back in the day, something the club didn’t know about. But even though Fury owed his life to his friend, that wasn’t the only reason he was doing what he was. The club had been hit, and Birdie had been injured. That meant retribution.

  He clenched his jaw and stared at his half empty cup. “I got business to take care of. I don’t want anyone coming up here, got it?”

  “Yeah, Prez, got it.” A moment of silence passed. “But if you need backup—”

  “I don’t.” He disconnected the call and turned away from the woods. He stared at the window that led to the room Angelina was currently tied up in. It was time to get this party started. He didn’t know how far he was going to go to push Angelina, but he had to fucking start this shit.

  ****

  She didn’t know how long he’d left her alone, but it seemed like forever even though it couldn’t have been more than half an hour. Her arms had since gone numb, and the harder she struggled the tighter the knots became. He had either been in the Navy, or he had done this before.

  The latter made her blood run even colder.

  The door swung open, and she still struggled, her flight or fight instinct running wild in her. Even though it seemed fruitless, she wasn’t about to just lie here and wait for him to rape, torture, or kill her. He came into the room holding a plate and a cup of what looked like water. He set it on the dresser, than opened one of the doors and started rummaging through it. She stared at his back, not about to say anything because it might make things worse, but also not wanting to be the victim, even if she was. She needed to be strong. She’d grown up with the Cardonas, and that meant she didn’t take shit from anyone.

  “Even if I wanted to help you bring my father down, I don’t know anything about him that could help you.” He didn’t say anything, and kept his back to her. “I won’t let you rape me. I’ll fight.” He turned around then, holding a length of chain, a shackle, and a lock.

  Her heart stilled in her, her throat tightened, and she felt sweat instantly bloom on her forehead. Were her eyes as wide as they felt?

  “Rape you?” he said low, deadly, as if those words pissed him off. He moved toward her once more. “I don’t need to rape women.”

  She watched him set the lock and chain on the bed. He started undoing the rope, and she knew she had to stay strong, to show him she wouldn’t take this like some weak victim. Once he had her legs free she bent her knees, about to kick him. But Fury let out this low, almost inhuman sound, and pressed his hand down on her legs, stilling her with so little effort. The hard, cold look on his face had her freezing. “Behave.”

  She didn’t move, didn’t even breathe.

  “You understand me, Angelina? You fucking behave. I can make this a hell of a lot worse for you if you fucking fight me.”

  Her throat tightened even more, nausea assaulted her, and she wanted to scream out from it all. But she nodded, wanting to live even if she’d told him she’d rather die. He stared at her hard for another long second, and then the attached the shackle, chain, and lock around her. He then moved up the bed and started undoing the rope around her wrists. He was so close, the scent of whatever cologne and the leather vest he wore dark and intense. Or maybe it was just the scent of him, like violence personified.

  Once her hands were free she rubbed them, her focus trained on Fury still. He took a step back, glared at her for a suspended moment, and then turned and grabbed the plate and glass from the dresser before heading back toward her.

  “Sit up and eat something.” He sounded so cold, and as much as she’d told herself she’d fight, she also needed to play it smart.

  Sitting up on the bed, she looked at the plate he’d set down in front of her. It was just a sandwich and a handful of chips, and although she didn’t know how long she’d been out, she wasn’t hungry. Her stomach clenched in disgust, and when she looked up at him it was to see Fury standing there with his arms crossed once more and that stoic expression on his face.

  “I’m not hungry,” she said in a low voice.

  “You need to eat or you’ll be sick.”

  She looked at the food again and felt like throwing up. “I already feel sick.”

  “It’s the chloroform. Drink the water and try and eat and you’ll feel better. It’ll help flush your system.”

  She looked at him again. He obviously wanted her better so he could do all the depraved shit to her, and as much as she wanted to claw his eyes out, she found herself picking up the sandwich and taking a bite.

  For several minutes he just stood there watching her eat. She had the chain and shackle around her ankle, but it wasn’t attached to anything. The longer she stared at the length of chain, the more she thought about if she could use it as a weapon.

  “Don’t think about it,” he said, as if reading her mind.

  She
looked up at him, knowing her eyes were wide with fear and shock.

  “Even if you hit me over the head with the chain it wouldn’t bring me down.” He looked like a mean motherfucker.

  She set the sandwich down and kept her focus on him. “Why don’t you just do what you plan on doing to me and get it over with?” She was scared to death, but thought she was doing a good job of trying to look strong.

  He didn’t move, didn’t show emotions, and for long seconds continued to watch her. “Do what I’m going to do to you?”

  “Rape me, torture me … do whatever it is you’re going to do to me to get the information I don’t have on my father.”

  “I already fucking told you I have no plans to rape you.” He sounded even more pissed if that was possible. “And I don’t hurt women.”

  “No, you just kidnap them and tie them up.” God, where is this coming from? I must have a death wish.

  For a suspended moment they both just looked into each other’s eyes, and then he smirked and shook his head. He grabbed the length of chain and moved over to the wall. She’d just now seen there was a lock drilled in. He attached the chain to the wall and turned to face her.

  “I’m not going to rape you or hurt you, but that’s not to say you won’t want me to do a hell of a lot of dirty shit to you eventually.”

  Fat chance in hell.

  Of course she didn’t say that out loud.

  “I’m not lying when I say I know nothing of my father’s dealings. I haven’t spoken to him in months, and even before that he didn’t tell me anything.” She told him that again, and would until she was blue in the face. But she knew it wouldn’t have mattered because this man clearly had an agenda.

  “You may think you don’t know anything,” he leaned forward, “but believe me, Princess, you know more than you think.”

  She shook her head, but he pulled away, the conversation clearly done for right now.

  “Finish eating and I’ll show you the bathroom so you can get cleaned up.” He turned, as if about to leave her in the room, and she felt her panic rise.