Thumper (Cerberus MC)

“Pelvic exam, blood draw.”

“F-for—”

“To check for STDs and STIs,” she says in a bored tone.

My legs tremble. Tears I thought I’d cried out in the shower return as I lie back on the table and place my legs in the stirrups. The test exam is quick and painless, and she’s very efficient in the blood draw.

“Have you been sexually assaulted?”

“N-no,” I answer.

She changes gloves before getting some cream and rubbing it on the injuries at my wrists before wrapping them both in gauze. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shake my head, words clogging my throat and making it impossible to speak.

I want to beg her to help me, to help all of us, but I know it would be fruitless.

“What’s that?” I ask when she approaches me with a needle. “I don’t do drugs. Please don’t drug me.”

She frowns, looking from the needle back to my face. “It’s Depo, not drugs.”

“But I’m—”

“The last thing you want is to get pregnant.”

She rubs my skin with an alcohol prep pad before injecting the birth control in my arm.

“Get your pants back on. We’re done.”

My legs are wobbly when I drop down from the table, but somehow, I leave the room, sit, and wait for the last girl to get done with her exam without even paying attention.

My head is flooded with what-ifs and whys. I can feel the slow throb of a headache beginning right behind my eyes, and as I stand, so the men can escort us to a new area, I’m left wondering if she lied about what was in the needle she shoved in my arm.

We’re led back to the basement filled with cages, and like obedient little animals, we head back to the very same cages we were in last night. The blankets in mine are different and sitting on top of the small cot is a tray with food and a bottle of water.

I wait, staring down at the food until the lock on my cage door clicks into place. I decided at the first sight of it, I won’t eat it. There’s no telling what’s in it.

I slide the tray to the floor, taking the bottle of water and squeezing it to test for puncture holes. After finding none, I examine the lid, and only after determining that it hasn’t been contaminated do I drink the entire thing in one go.

Angel walks past my cage, and it’s only a minute or so before I see him with his hand wrapped around Lola’s arm as she’s escorted from the room.

Chapter 6

Thumper

“I don’t answer to you,” I snap into the phone. “Bring her. Now.”

I slam the phone down, uncaring if I break the fucking thing. I’ve paced my office for the last two hours, both a little grateful and pissed that there are no cameras in the exam room. I know I’d watch, telling myself that I’m just making sure the girls are treated right, but I’d know the truth. I can’t keep my mind off what’s going on in the basement.

Six women. All taken right off the street. Some will be missed. Some will disappear unnoticed.

I give Angel five minutes to do my bidding, but waiting a second longer is impossible.

I slam back another glass of whiskey before storming out of the office and down the hallway. The room I took her in last night is empty, and I’m grateful he listened to me.

The next door is closed, and when I open it, I find the brunette looking at me with terror in her eyes. A slow, sinister smile spreads across my face. She’s trembling as I get closer to her, and it makes my skin crawl. She’s been sat on an ottoman at the end of the bed, her legs bound at the ankles and hands tied in front of her.

How fucked up is it that I miss the brotherhood of the Cerberus MC right now? How do they keep getting into my head? Maybe because things were better for me there. I don’t fucking know, but that bridge was burned long before I took the job. They just didn’t know it. They could never forgive the man I’ve become or the things I’ve done since I walked away.

I step up to her, unable to resist pulling her head against my stomach as I take a few long, deep breaths.

“What are you doing?” she whispers.

I swallow hard. Isn’t that a loaded fucking question?

I take a step back, looking down at her for a long moment before cupping her jaw in my hand. She frowns up at me.

“There are no cameras in this room, Lauren.”

“Maybe we should pretend like there are.” She lifts her tied hands, fingers trailing down my chest and over my abs.

“Lauren,” I grumble.

“I’m Lola.”

I give her a weak smile and step further back, letting my hand fall from her skin and preventing her from touching me. I’ve earned no right to touch her, and the guilt of having done so is fucking with my head. Even the whiskey I’ve drunk today hasn’t dulled that shame I’ve been riddled with since stepping into this fucking house.