Last Ride (Wind Dragons MC #5.5)(15)

And soon, no one will even remember their names.





EIGHT




Faye

I WAKE up needing to use the bathroom. I have no idea what time it is, and Douche Lord didn’t return after he left. Neither did anyone else. I don’t know if that’s a good or a bad thing. I kept dozing in and out, so uncomfortable to be sleeping sitting up, my neck sore as f*ck. Still, when he finally walks in after I call out for someone, I pretend that everything is fine.

“Sleep well?” he asks, looking smug. I can’t wait to bury my foot in his face. And his nuts. I’m going to kill him, and I’m going to enjoy it.

“Like a baby,” I lie flippantly, squaring my shoulders. “But I do need to pee.”

He comes and stands behind me. “If you try anything, I will give you to the men, do you understand?”

I nod.

Yeah, being gang-raped does not sound appealing. There’s no way I’d try to escape without checking out the area first, looking for a weakness in their security. I can’t just kick him in the balls and run, because I have every element against me.

“I won’t try anything. I just really need to pee, okay?”

He unties my feet first, then goes behind me and undoes my wrists from the chair, but leaves them bound together. Hand gripping my upper arm harder than necessary, he leads me to the bathroom.

“You have two minutes.”

“You’re not going to untie my hands?” I ask, eyes going wide. “How do I wipe myself or wash my hands?”

“You don’t,” he says, looking bored. “You’re wasting time.”

I walk into the bathroom and he half closes the door, giving me a little privacy.

“How do I undo my jeans?” I call out, not wanting him to touch me, but I really do need to go.

He curses and then comes in, studying me. He looks like he doesn’t want to touch me, so maybe he has a little bit of brains in his head after all. Reaching into his waistband, he pulls out a gun. I swallow hard, but try to keep my expression blank.

“You try anything, I shoot.”

I nod.

He motions for me to turn around, so I do, and he cuts the binds off, then walks out, again leaving the door half open. I quickly undo my jeans and pull them down with my panties, emptying my bladder with satisfaction. After I clean myself up and wash my hands and face, I drink some of the tap water with my hands so I don’t have to ask him for some, rub my sore wrists, then look around for a weapon. A few seconds later though, the door is opened fully and a gun is being pointed at me.

“Hands together,” he demands, so I hold them out. He ties them in front of me this time, and I’m silently relieved. Sitting in one position for a long time really is hell—my body is so stiff and sore right now, and putting my hands in a different position will be heavenly. With a gun to the back of my neck, he walks me back to the chair. “Sit.”

I sit down, and this time he actually ties rope around my stomach and the chair a few times. “Not like I’m going to do anything with a gun to my head.”

“I like to take precautions,” he says, stepping back and admiring his handiwork.

“Precautions? Is that what they call being intimidated by a woman these days?” I say, unable to help myself.

He backhands me across the face.

Fuck.

It hurts like a bitch, blood filling my mouth. I look him dead in the eye and spit the blood on the floor, right next to his white shoes. A few light blood splatters cover them, which for some reason gives me a feeling of satisfaction.

“Probably shouldn’t wear white shoes on the day you’re going to show how much of a man you are by hitting a woman who’s bound to a chair. A woman who would otherwise give you a fair fight.”

Lifting his lips back, his teeth clenched, he gives me a look that says he wants me dead, but stays silent—storming out of the room. I stretch my neck from side to side, closing my eyes, telling myself to think. I need to get out of here. Images of Clover and Asher flash through my mind. My kids need their mama. Dex needs me. There’s no way I’m going out like this. My only option is to try to get the gun from him. But then what? How many people will I have to shoot on the way out? How many rounds are in the gun? So many variables, but what else can I do?

I’m going to have to do what I normally do.

I’m going to have to wing it.

He walks back in seconds later, face red with fury. I can tell instantly that something has happened. Maybe now is my chance.

“Get up. We need to go. Now.”

I look down to where I’m tied to the chair and flash him a look that says, Really, idiot?

He makes an impatient sound like I’m f*ckin’ keeping him from somewhere, then cuts the rope with a knife, leaving my hands and legs free. This time he just puts the knife at my neck and tells me to get up and walk, so I get up and walk. The gun is back in his waistband; I guess he doesn’t feel like he needs it. We walk past the bathroom, which is the farthest I’ve been to this point, so I eagerly scan the new surroundings, trying to take everything in so I can use it.

“Sin and the rest of them are at the Kings clubhouse,” he says, tightening his arm around my shoulder, digging the knife into my skin. “But you see, we have a secret weapon here, and to get to you, he’s going to have to get through him.”