Hard Rider
I smiled darkly.
“These men put my woman in danger. They’ve made their threats clear. She doesn’t have another fucking soul in the world looking out for her but me, so yeah. I’m out for fucking blood… But this is my fight, not yours.”
He stepped over my way. “If this is what you want…”
“It is.”
“In that case, I won’t stand in your way. But God help you, Grizz.”
Yes, I thought to myself.
God help me.
Less than half an hour later, I had already hit the road. The duffle bag had been an awkward fit, but I’d strapped it down to the back of the motorcycle as best I could.
John was right to be concerned.
But I was doing what I had to.
The ride was just as long and goddamn boring the second time ‘round. By the time I rolled up into New Orleans and dismounted, I had a sore back coming in.
Can’t get old yet, I thought to myself. Plenty of time for that when I’m done dying.
I unstrapped the duffle bag and brought it inside. No new debris greeted me, and a quick glance through the rooms with a raised pistol proved that I was alone.
With the safety check over, I swept an arm across the dining room table, brushed that shit to the floor, and dropped the bag onto the tabletop, pulling out the contents piece by piece.
A glance at the clock told me that I had only several hours to set up… That was plenty of time to scour the local gun shops for extra ammunition and supplies, but I knew damn well that would bring too much attention. This wasn’t some strike on a cartel south of the border fence... I was attacking a motorcycle gang on United States soil, in the outskirts of a major city.
It was going to get messy.
There were going to be questions, and I couldn’t have my face on video walking into every goddamned gun shop in the neighborhood.
I knew damn well I’d either die in a blaze of weapons, or I’d be arrested for multiple homicides. There wasn’t much room for a third option.
I fed what bullets I had into the assault rifle cartridge, and carefully loaded each handgun with a half clip apiece. It would have to be enough. I’d make sure Kate was safe, and then I could die happy.
My hand dipped back into the duffel bag, wrapping itself around something I hadn’t expected. John had left me a little surprise. I pulled it free and lay it on the table, staring silently at the small electronic device. It looked like half of a pair of binoculars, with a strange head strap attacked to it and a swing swivel that would bring it down over an eye. This thing was meant for hunters. It wasn’t exactly the kind of gear we had over in the middle east, but I knew immediately that it gave me an edge I couldn’t ignore.
Maybe there’s another way after all…
Kate
After being left alone with my thoughts for a mind-numbing amount of time, I realized that there was only one way that I was going to get out of this mess.
It involved Mark being in the room.
Nothing revolted me more than the idea of getting closer to that large, stupid oaf than the locked door between us, but it was the only chance that I had.
Maybe, if I was fast enough, I could even contact Grizz and save him the trouble of walking into an obvious trap.
I was actually disappointed when one of the other biker thugs brought me my breakfast. Of course, this wasn’t helped when the asshole slammed it through the flap and splattering it across the floor.
At least they knew how to treat a lady.
So, I waited longer. You really start to appreciate your phone when you’ve been kidnapped and you’re trapped in some bullshit room waiting for the chance to bust your way out.
No clocks, no watch, and no phone meant that I had no idea how long I was in that stupid fucking place.
After my hundredth game of I Spy (spoiler alert: the color was always black, and the answer was always an oil stain on the ground), I finally heard footsteps outside.
“Hello?” I called out.
Please be Mark.
Please be Mark.
I can’t believe I’m fucking saying this.
Please be Mark…
The flap scraped open, and I saw the shape of a face slip into view, blocked out by the silhouette from outside.
“Heya, Buttercup,” Mark grinned.
Oh thank God, I reluctantly grumbled to under my breath.
“Good, it’s you…”
Mark looked suspicious. “What, you been waiting for me or somethin’?”
“Something like that,” I smiled as seductively as I can. “I’m just so glad you saved me from that devil, and my fingers just aren’t doing it for me right now...”
Mark scoffed. “Bet you’re all kinds of horny in there, but I ain’t gonna let you out just yet. Boss says I can’t fuck you till we take care of business.”
I fake-pouted. “Are you sure? Because I can give you a show… Maybe I’ll let you watch me play with myself. That’s not against the rules, is it?”
He licked his lips, glancing to the side and back again. “If you’re that desperate, Sweet-tits, I’ve got somethin’ better than your finger.”
“Yeah?” I cooed.
It was like taking fucking candy from a baby, dealing with him. He was stupid, but he was strong, too…
“But it needs to wait until we deal with that Devil’s Dragon. Boss has it out for that club.”
God damnit.
“Since when have you let other men tell you when you can or can’t take what’s yours?” I asked, pushing the envelope as hard as I dared to.
I watched the cogs twist in his head.
Oh shit, I realized. I’ve pushed too hard. He knows something’s up now…
Grinned knowingly, Mark closed the flap.
Fuck.
I heard something twisting in the door, and it was yanked open. Mark quickly stepped into the room, locking it behind himself and keeping an eye on me.
Damn, he’s a little craftier than I wanted.
“You’re right, Buttercup. I should be able to fuck you whenever I want. Glad you’re seein’ things my way…”
Even from here, I could smell the beer on his breath. This asshole had been drinking. Never could hold his liquor…
 
; The beer would make him stupid, but it would make him even harder to put down. I’d have to play this very carefully if I wanted to overpower him and escape, with no weapons on hand.
No weapons besides the allure of sex…
“Come on, big boy,” I smiled as I rose up from the floor. “I’m all yours.”
Mark lumbered over, a stupid look plastered across his face. He was a stray dog, ready to fuck, but about as dumb as dog shit.
“Liiiittle closer.”
If I was lucky…
I could take him by surprise...
Mark came within striking distance, and I twisted my face in anger as I lashed out, quick as lightning – raking my nails across his face and drawing blood.
“Goddammit!” He snarled, before dropping into laughter. “Feisty little bitch!”
I took a few steps back as he swatted chaotically, his other hand covering his eyes. It was hard to gauge an opening, but maybe…
“Now I’m gonna really make it a night to remember,” Mark chuckled. “I’m thinkin’, now’s as good a time as any to break your ass in.”
My insides shriveled at the thought.
No, I shook my head.
He’s NEVER touching me again.
My eyes went from him to the locked door, then back again. He wasn’t flailing around as much, and he was starting to pull his hand free from his face…
I threw myself forward into his chest with my shoulder, punching him in the jaw with the other fist when he drunkenly staggered back a few steps.
Mark managed to grab my wrist as he fell backwards, pulling me down to the ground against him.
Shit.
He was too strong to grapple, his arms quickly wrapping around me before he pinned me down beneath him. As he started to get his lumbering weight on me, I managed to get a hand free long enough to jab my thumb into his eye, causing him to recoil backward.
He still had me beneath him so I grabbed his free hand and bit down hard into the fleshy part beneath his thumb.
“Goddammit, bitch!”
I pulled free as he tried to smack me upside the skull, managing only a glancing blow. It was enough to put some stars in my vision, but I kept it together.