Rocket (Hell's Handlers MC 5)

She couldn’t even think about how badly she had to pee.

With an uncomfortable groan, she gently returned her head to a neutral position. Relief was instantaneous. At least for her face and neck, the rest of her still throbbed in an angry rhythm.

The door knob rattled seconds before a loud thud had a man appearing in the doorway to the room. Instinct made Chloe freeze as though being immobile would somehow shield her from discovery. The guy was big. Big and dressed in black from head to toe. Black boots, black jeans, a black leather jacket, a black helmet with the face shield down. If it weren’t for the dim light shining outside her motel room, he’d have probably blended in with the dead of night.

Boots, leather, and a helmet.

A biker.

Her breathing sped until she was practically hyperventilating.

You have the Handlers to thank for this.

Was he a Handler? Had he come to finish the job? There she was completely vulnerable once again to whatever this newcomer wanted.

“Goddamned, motherfucking, pieces of shit,” the man behind the helmet said.

Chloe trembled, unable to utter a sound beyond a squeak of fear at the vehemence in the man’s tone.

Had she just hopped out of a scorching hot frying pan directly into the fire?

LEFTY WAS GOING to die. Slowly. Painfully. In the most agonizing way Rocket could dream up, and he had quite an arsenal of horrific torture scenes to choose from.

Unharmed.

That was Copper’s decree. Lefty was to deliver the woman he’d kidnapped to this motel room unharmed, or else he’d have the Handlers after his ass. Looked like the guy was in the mood for a good ass fucking.

Shit. Even through the dark face shield of his helmet, he could tell the once gorgeous woman had been brutalized. Bruises, cuts, and blood caked her naked body. Shivers wracked her, whether from fear or the cold, he had no idea. Probably a combination.

This wasn’t the scenario he’d expected, and fuck did it complicate shit. Plan was to rescue the woman, maybe act a little gruff and spook her into keeping her mouth shut. Keep her away from the cops.

Further frightening a woman who’d been kidnapped and assaulted wasn’t exactly Rocket’s idea of a stellar plan, but it was the best they had. If they wanted to deal with Lefty in their own way, and they fucking did—now more than ever—then she had to stay away from the police. Usually a few well-placed threats the MC never intended to carry out had people jumping on board with their plan, no questions asked.

Now? Well, now the hospital was their destination which meant the cops would be involved no matter how much he wished it wasn’t so. A woman didn’t pop up at the ER looking like this one and not have the damn pigs called. But it was unavoidable. She needed medical attention beyond what the club could provide. They really needed to get a doctor in house.

Eyes that held a familiar terror stared back at him. Years of highly classified, black-ops missions had found Rocket in some of the worst hellholes on earth, witnessing atrocities far worse than he’d seen since he joined the Handlers—and he’d seen plenty there, too.

Yeah, scared gazes were all too recognizable to him.

He lifted both hands in as non-threatening a gesture as he could pull off considering he had one thing on his mind.

Murdering Lefty.

“Won’t hurt you,” he said, the words somewhat muddled by the face shield. He fell silent. Often, keeping his mouth shut proved to be the best way to get what he needed. He’d give her a minute to process, let her decide if she wanted to trust him. Not that she had much choice. He was her one ticket out of there.

“Y-you, you’re a b-biker,” she said through chattering teeth.

Even Rocket noticed the chill in the room. The bastards must have cranked the AC just to fuck with her. Both her nipples stood fully erect and Rocket would bet his nuts she was the furthest thing from turned on a woman could be. “I am.”

“Hell’s Handlers?”

His eyebrows drew down, not that she could see, but he remained silent. She’d continue talking. People always did. Silence needed to be filled.

“Don’t t-touch m-me.”

“Fuck.” Keeping his hands at shoulder height, he advanced five steps into the room. Even though the woman couldn’t go anywhere, she seemed to shrink away from him.

“P-please d-don’t come c-closer.”

He nodded again. “I’m here to get you out of this place.”

The woman huffed some kind of laugh and groan combination that would have broken his heart if the damn thing hadn’t hardened to steel years ago. “Sure you can, but will I be alive?”

Her breath hitched as though she was going to sob, and who could blame her? But then, before his eyes she transformed, steeling herself and shoving back the hysteria.