Unfortunately, that wasn’t a comfort he could provide her.
“Baby, I’m sorry you feel vulnerable and exposed, but I gotta tell you. Being able to stare at that those sexy stems for the foreseeable future just might make being here worth it.”
A delicate snort left her. “If I couldn’t see how swollen your eyes were, I’d know something was wrong with your vision by your statement. What you’re looking at is called chicken legs.”
“Woman, you’re crazy. I like a woman in a tight little package.”
She flushed and rolled her eyes. “Guess you’re not as bad off as I originally thought if you can still hit on me.”
“I’d have to be dead not to notice that body, babe.”
She shifted, and the clamor of the chains on the metal table made her jump. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you?”
“That’s what all the ladies tell me,” he said.
Man, if they weren’t in this shithole, he’d be all over her.
Maybe when they got free, he’d take her out and show her exactly what he could do with his mouth.
First, he had to make damn sure they both got out alive.
And that Shark and his cronies kept their filthy hands off Stephanie’s beautiful body.
CHAPTER THREE
ALMOST TWENTY-FOUR hours had passed since the men had tied Stephanie spread-eagle to a table and left her in a basement with another captive. Something must be up because they hadn’t left anyone to guard them.
At least that was her best guess as far as the number of hours passed. A small rectangular window let her know the sun had set, risen, and was beginning to dip again. So it had to be somewhere around the full-day mark.
At one point, when her bladder had been near bursting, she had to humble herself and ask Maverick what she was supposed to do.
A chuckle and a “let it fly” had been his response. “I’ve been here three days. They let me eat and piss the first day. Haven’t taken me from this chair since.”
Fantastic. Well, that accounted for the smell when King first brought her in. She’d held out for another hour then had no choice but to urinate. On the table that she was lying on.
Disgusting didn’t begin to cover it.
Neither did mortification. At least Mav had the decency to look away and sing so he wouldn’t see or hear her.
Since she hadn’t had a thing to drink in ages, she probably wouldn't have that problem again.
However long she’d been there for, it was a very long time to be immobilized, frightened, and freakin’ cold. Every so often, she drifted to sleep only to be jerked awake by a screaming pain in her shoulders or wracked by shivers from the cold, dank basement.
Night had been the worst.
Pitch black, icy, terrifying. Her brain ran through every second of the year King had been undercover with the Dragons. Where had she missed it? How had she not picked up on his betrayal? She’d only spoken to him via phone, email, and text. Not enough to determine he’d been lying to her. She shouldn’t be surprised. It wasn’t the first time a man had betrayed her by going against everything he’d proclaimed to believe in.
Thank God for the man in the room with her.
Maverick.
He was the one reason she hadn’t lost her sanity or freaked out. Throughout the night, he’d regaled her with stories of ridiculous stunts his club brothers pulled and tales of vengeful women he’d pissed off throughout the years.
In reality, probably less than half of it was true, but she appreciated his effort to keep her calm more than she could ever express. Because Shark and King were coming back at some point, and when they did, it would be awful.
Gang members didn’t tie a woman to a table and remove her pants for no reason.
No, they did it for one big reason, and that was to rape her. During quiet times, like now, when Maverick succumbed to sleep, or maybe just passed out from pain and dehydration, she tried to prepare herself for the inevitable violation. Tried to wrap her mind around what was going to happen. Maybe if she could somehow find a way to accept it before it happened, it wouldn’t destroy her.
A very big maybe.
And really, it wasn’t working. All it was doing was ramping up her anxiety at every bump or squeak. The “is it them?” thought was always followed by about fifteen minutes of straining to hear any and every noise and discover if her captors were returning.
With a sigh, she rolled her head and stared at the handsome man slumped in the chair. Or he’d be handsome if it wasn’t for all the bruising. They’d done a number on him. Shirtless, he was…God, how to even describe the man suffering with her. Tattoos covered his body. And she meant covered. Arms, chest, neck. Only his face was devoid of ink. Then there were the piercings. Lip, eyebrow, tongue, if she wasn’t mistaken, and nipples.