Chaos Bound (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #4)(4)
“Viper thinks you’re dead.” Her brow furrowed. “I heard him talking with his men before he brought me down here. They’re planning to get your … you and bury you somewhere.”
He listened to the lilt of her voice, watched her lips move. Felt a stir of happiness that he had the chance to behold beauty one last time on the eve of his death.
She stepped closer, inspected his bare torso, the cuts and bruises, welts and burns. She choked when she saw the whip marks that crisscrossed his skin, and pain flickered across her face.
“Viper did this to you.” A statement, not a question, and not one that he could answer, but this close he could see all the bruises on her face, a cut on her temple—Viper’s handiwork on her beautiful skin.
Rage, the only emotion he had left, coiled in his breast, along with a curious desire to protect the beautiful woman from Viper’s wrath. He jerked his hand, tugging against the manacles on his wrists, and the chain clanked, drawing her attention.
“He’ll kill me if I let you go.” She glanced around the dungeon, her gaze resting on the Sinner’s Tribe cut pinned to the wall with Holt’s dagger. “You’re a Sinner.”
Holt shrugged. Once upon a time he was a Sinner. Now he wanted nothing from the club except their destruction.
She stared at the cut, and then her gaze flicked to Holt. “No one hates the Sinners more than the Black Jacks. You’re their only threat to dominance in the state. I’m surprised you’re still alive.”
So was he. After months of torture there was little about the Sinners he hadn’t shared with his captors. But Viper was a sadist at heart, and he’d clearly taken more pleasure in Holt’s pain than he would have in Holt’s death. At least until he found another distraction.
“If I help you, the Sinners will owe me,” she mused. “Maybe they can hide me or protect me. Maybe even work out a deal so Viper leaves me alone.”
He shook his head, wanting to explain to her that he was done with the Sinners, but she was already searching the dungeon, her hands brushing over the racks and cinder block walls. “I don’t suppose he left the keys.”
Holt grunted and tipped his chin to the door. Of course Viper had left the keys to the cuffs. Just like he’d installed a light switch in the dungeon. Nothing drove home the hopelessness of the situation as well as leaving the tools for escape just out of reach.
The woman followed his gaze and grabbed the keys from the nail near the door. “Let’s think this through…” She twisted her lips to the side, the keys dangling from her fingers.
What the f*ck? This wasn’t the time to think. It was the time to act. The guards might be back any minute, and freedom was within his grasp.
“Keys.” He blurted out the word, gestured to the cuffs.
“Just wait.” She held up a hand. “Would it be better to leave you like that so when they walk in, they see you chained, but I’m waiting behind the door to knock them out?”
Was she f*cking serious? Had she seen the guards? There was no way a woman her size was taking out even Viper’s smallest man.
“Keys. Now.” His voice was hoarse with disuse and the abuse of constant screaming, but she understood him.
Without hesitation, she unlocked the cuffs. Her hair brushed over Holt’s arm, sending a peculiar wave of sensation through his body.
“Can you stand?” She stared at him in consternation and Holt nodded. The chains gave him enough freedom to reach the metal toilet affixed to the floor and to stretch his legs—a freedom he had used to exercise when he was alone so that when the day came he would have the strength to exact his revenge. Except the last beating had been so bad, he hadn’t managed to do more than crawl in days.
“So what’s the plan?” She toyed with the ring on her finger. “Even if we get through the door, we still have to cross the clubhouse grounds, evade the guards, get through the electric fence, and find a way to town. Or out of town since the Black Jacks own Devil’s Hills.”
Holt pushed himself to stand, and his legs wobbled. Viper had fed him just enough so he would have the strength to endure the torture, but he’d had no food or water for the last few days. Now he knew why. Dead men didn’t need to eat.
But he didn’t need to walk far. Once he had the guard’s gun, he just had to make it to the clubhouse and into Viper’s lair. The woman would have to fend for herself.
“What do you think?” She looked up, and Holt sucked in a breath. Now that he was on his feet, she looked even smaller, maybe around 5′4″, with gentle curves on a light frame. Definitely no match for any of the Jacks.
How could he leave her to fend for herself? And yet, how could he not? The thirst for vengeance had sustained him for the three long months he’d been imprisoned. Revenge burned bright in his chest.
“Dagger.” His harsh tone startled her, and he felt instantly contrite, but she rallied quickly, fear giving way to curiosity.
“Where?”
“Wall.” He gestured to the cut, and she reached up and worked the dagger free, then caught the cut before it fell.
Turning the cut, she read the patches in the faint light. “T-Rex. Is that your road name?”
“Was.” He swallowed, trying to wet his swollen tongue. “Name’s Holt.”
“I’m Naiya.” She returned with the cut, but Holt shook his head and took the dagger instead. He had plans for that cut. He had visions of tossing it on the bonfire that was the Sinner clubhouse after he’d made every last Sinner pay for their betrayal, for leaving him to rot in Viper’s dungeon.