Just me, and three huge, dangerous, sexy bikers.
7
EMILY
At least they let me take a shower. It takes me a whole day and night before I dare to ask, but from how quickly they answer yes, I suspect I'm getting a little ripe.
It's been quiet. No response from Dad, no new news, no anti-biker task force showing up at our door. The guys keep sending scorching glances my way as if they're trying to burn my clothes off, and I keep trying to pretend it doesn't affect me, but other than that, they treat me okay. Well, at least Wild Child and Hero do. King's more aloof. It's probably just as well.
When I ask about the shower, I worry that both Wild Child and Hero are going to insist on coming with me, but they just nod. Not that the thought, once whirring between my ears—and between my legs—is the most terrible thing to imagine, but fantasy is one thing. Getting naked with your real-life kidnappers is something completely different.
Hero guides me through the common room. He's lent me a towel, and I've got a black T-shirt and a pair of boxers Wild Child found in his drawers, so I have something to change into. I love my PJs, but they could definitely do with a wash. That'll be next on my list.
There are nowhere as many bikers here now as there were at Church, but the sluts are back, wrapped around one or more members. Members meaning bikers, not the members' members, so to speak. At least not yet.
Look at me learning the local lingo.
Janey is the only slut I know the name of. She's too busy shooting death beam glares in my direction to even notice Snark pawing at her thigh, pushing up her oversize tank top. I look away before I find out if she's actually wearing anything underneath.
Viking grabs Hero's arm as we walk by, still not wearing a shirt. Maybe that's just not his thing. “Hey, man, need to talk to you.”
Hero points down the hallway. “Third door on the right.” There's nowhere for me to escape down this way, anyway. As I push the door open on quiet hinges, he nods at me before turning back to Viking.
I shut the door behind me and let out a deep breath. Finally a moment alone. And God, maybe I can relieve some of this tension with the shower head, because my body refuses to quit melting over those guys, and I totally don't need that right now.
The bathroom's a shared space, with lockers, bathroom stalls, urinals and a couple of sinks. A stepladder stands by the wall, out of the way. I'm just going to assume this is for those who don't live here normally, and that they've got better facilities somewhere. But as long as the water's warm and I can feel clean and alone for a bit, I'm not going to complain. The door doesn't lock, but there was no one else coming this way, and it's this or sit around in my own stink with only my thoughts and horny bikers for company.
Might as well get to it. There are hooks by the shower stall, so I hang the towel, then start to pull my shirt off. I've only just reached behind me when a hand wraps its fingers into my hair and yanks me backwards.
My yell echoes off the bathroom walls, but that doesn't keep me from falling and hitting the tiled floor hard. The air's knocked right out of me, and by the time I've sucked enough back in for my breathing to steady, someone has straddled my chest and put the sharp point of a knife at my throat. Looking down at me is Janey, her face twisted in a vicious grimace.
“Please don't hurt me.” My eyes go cross-eyed trying to follow the blade.
She slides the sharp tip across my throat, then nudges it just enough that something warm and wet wells forth. She's broken the skin. I'm sure it stings, but my adrenaline is on hyperdrive and I can't tell.
“I fucking hate new sluts coming in, trying to steal my men away. I didn't work my way up to top bitch here for nothing.”
I lie completely still. There's nothing I can do that would be faster than her deciding to slit my throat. I whisper like I'm trying not to startle a wild animal. “Please. I'm not here to steal away anyone. I just want to go home.”
“Shut up!” She knocks my head against the floor. My skull rings so hard I feel nauseous, but at least she didn't stab me. “How fucking stupid do you think I am?” Her hiss seems loud in here, but I doubt it carries to the hall. “Status is everything, and when you come parading in with the primest meat in the whole club, you make me look second rate. I should carve your fucking doe eyes out.”