Velvet Fire - Ashby Crime Family Romance

“Right. Bitches lie all the time. Keep quiet.”

He pointed a finger in my direction, trying hard to seem like he knew what he was doing, but the man was spiraling. Maybe needing his next drink. Or fix.

“You didn’t think this through, did you?”

“I said shut the fuck up!” His face turned red, like bright fucking red, and he put both hands to his head as if that would clear his thoughts.

“Whatever happens to me is irrelevant, you know? You’re dead. Like really fucking dead.”

He marched toward me and leaned in close enough that I could smell the nicotine and booze on his breath, barely able to keep from recoiling at the stench.

“Yeah? You think Sadie fucking Ashby will go to war over a booty call?”

Oh good, he has no fucking clue who I am. “No. But I don’t think your little setup here is enough to handle the Ashbys and the Reckless Bastards.”

Surprise lit his dark eyes but he covered it quickly. “A biker whore too? You’ll fit right in around here.”

Now it was my turn to smile, ignoring the way my heart raced at his nearness and the evil lurking behind his eyes. “Not a biker whore, but thanks. Family.”

Surprise again, and then anger. “Pope!”

A few seconds later the bald fucker from the SUV appeared in the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Hold this bitch for me.” There was that gleam in his eyes again, and I slid back on the disgusting mattress instinctively. The asshole reached out and grabbed my leg.

“Oh no, don’t run from me. You’re tough.”

I was tough, goddammit but this was different. I was also terrified. My heart beat so fast I thought I’d have a heart attack.

I kicked my leg out, barely missing his chin and hitting him square in the chest.

“One of us has to be,” I grunted and scrambled away from him.

The bald fucker, Pope, was right there, and he stepped behind me, scooping his arms under mine and lifting so his hands cupped the back of my head, until I was so stretched, I could barely move without pain.

“Be still,” he grunted.

“Fuck you!” I flailed and cracked my head back, striking some part of his head but he barely grunted.

“Not yet, but if that’s your thing I could have a whole slew of motherfuckers in here in minutes.”

Brendan practically foamed at the mouth as he produced a six-inch blade, curved and serrated. He stepped closer, leading with the blade and I kicked out at him once again. He dodged the kick with a laugh and grabbed the neckline of my dress, sliding the cool metal against my skin.

His knife slid through the simple dress I’d worn to meet Bonnie at church. Shit, Bonnie. She was on the line when all this went down. Surely, she would have called someone. That thought helped a lot, and I kicked out at Brendan again and the tip of the knife slid against my thigh as a warning.

“Cocksucker!” I screamed.

He laughed, satisfied to have cut my dress down the center, leaving my lingerie exposed.

“That’s your first warning. Piss me off again and you’ll be getting ass fucked until you’re shitting jizz for life.” He glared at his friend who let me go and I fell back to the disgusting bed.

“Hit her up. I’m tired of her fucking mouth.”

“You sure about that?” It seems Pope was the muscle but he might also be the only one with brains between these two, and that wasn’t saying much.

“Do I sound unsure?”

“Unstable,” I muttered. Unwisely. Holden always told me my mouth would get me into trouble one day, but he was wrong. My choice in men was the problem.

“Now, Pope.”

No matter what the guys back on Hardtail Ranch said, my biggest problem was that I didn’t know when to give up the fight. Not in high school when the done up cowgirls thought they could bully me. Not when the sorority girls thought I’d let them mark up my imperfections, and not when some asshole thought ‘no’ meant ‘yes’.

I fought like hell, kicking and flailing as Pope produced a needle. I knew what was coming, and I knew there was nothing I could do to stop it, but still I kept fighting, knowing that moving around would make it hard to find a vein.

What I didn’t anticipate was that the fucker would stick me in the neck. Or that smack would knock me out so fast.

Or for so long.

***

When I woke up the room was pitch black except some dim gold light from the streetlight outside the window. The music still played, but a different song. I was groggy. My limbs felt a little heavy still, like I just stepped out of the pool. I managed to sit up, squeeze my eyes shut and try to orient myself. If this was what heroin or whatever the fuck they gave me did to people, I was glad I wasn’t an addict.