Never Love An Outlaw (Deadly Pistols MC #1)(20)

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, pimp.” An older man with a salt and pepper handlebar mustache motioned to the others. “Chaps, get this bitch on your bike and find her a helmet. Spiny, let's make sure this cocksucker shows us the money. Up front. All of it.”

A nasty, muscular man wearing a PROSPECT patch stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “Let's go, girly. I'll make sure you're all taken care of.”

I gasped on the way out, feeling his hand run up my skirt. It was looking extremely unlikely these brutes were going to treat me nicely while they did their job.

The worst part? There was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Not even Ricky could object now, not when he had his eyes totally focused on the money, and bikers of any sort seemed to be his personal nightmare.

We'd be roaring over the mountains toward North Carolina nonstop. If I tried to run, tried to wave to anyone in traffic and show them what was happening, I'd be a dead girl in a matter of minutes. Jesus, I'd probably get other people killed.

I had to play along. I had to numb all my feelings and just get through this.

If I could survive the trip, see what I was dealing with on the other side, I could plan my next move. Everyone had a weakness, even this new buyer. If I could find it, exploit it, and use it to get in touch with Skin, then I still had hope.

I wouldn't give up. I promised myself I'd stay true, stay strong, stay –

“Fuck me raw.” Chaps put his hand on my shoulder as he pushed me onto his bike. “It's gonna be pure hell having your hands inches from my dick on this long haul. Sure hope the Prez gives the okay for a little fun before we drop you off with your new daddy.”

I looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. His eyes clung to me for a few more seconds, and then snorted and turned away, lighting up a smelly, cheap cigarette.

I had to take myself away from all this. My mind turned over, working to find that numb, vacant space I'd gone to before to survive this nightmare.

Peace never came easy. I was still searching for it, trying to put myself in that rare zen space I'd found a few times before, when the other men came storming out.

Ricky hovered behind the door, looking out the dirty back window, his eyes on me. I wouldn't look at him, too busy eyeballing the harsh, nasty men who got on their bikes. Mustache Man signaled the younger ones, and we took off with a roar.

I hated having to hold onto the bastard driving. My eyes focused on his pal in the mirror, the one called Spiny. He drove strangely, kissed the back of our bike with his front wheel several times on the highway. I saw something smoking in his hand, too fat to be a cigarette.

“Oh my God. Is he stoned?” The fear raging in my chest made me want another one of Ricky's joints, the only thing I'd ever had at the whorehouse to temporarily put me out of my misery.

“Shut your pretty mouth and relax, princess, or I'll f*cking make you,” the biker in front of me growled. “You're safe. Just trust us. Now, squeeze me tighter. I'm looking for an excuse to shove both those little hands on my cock, and you'll give me a good one if you don't close your mouth.”

I did. I bit my tongue for several more miles, watching as the other Prospect drove like he was drunk. My heart filled with hope and terror when I saw a squad car about to pass us on the other side.

This could be it.

If the policeman noticed Spiny's crappy driving, maybe he'd pull them over, and then I'd find my way out of this. Assuming it didn't end in a shootout...

I started to count my heartbeats as the car drew nearer, so heavy and tense they made me want to pass out. The policeman passed, didn't even slow down, and a second later he disappeared behind the latest mountain bend.

Fuck. Disappointed again. Why did I ever expect anything else?

It took forever to cross the state line into North Carolina. Far longer than it should've.

The men kept getting lost in the mountains, and I realized Mustache Man was just as f*cked up as his Prospects.

My driver, Chaps, swore repeatedly. Then the storm hit, and ice cold rain buried his curses.

Freezing bullets pounded everything, so torrential and sudden and loud it should've been terrifying. We couldn't see. The bikes skidded down the hills just when I thought we were about to wreck, into some nameless little town with pale yellow lights blurred by the small ocean dumping down on us.

I was officially numb now. Ready for whatever was going to happen, even my own death.

The men screamed at each other as we rolled into a cheap motel. At first, I thought it was to fill up, but the gas pumps outside were just as derelict as the little shack next to it with the broken windows.

Our bike jerked to a stop. I watched Chaps jump off and go stomping toward his comrades, all of them pissed off and yelling.

“We'd better spend the f*cking night, Lock. No way are we gonna get to Charlotte and make this chick presentable in this kinda weather.”

“The pimp said no delays, *. We'll take a few hours and keep going, whatever we need for this shit to blow over. Veep's got us on a tight schedule. Big Vic'll choke our sorry asses out personally if we don't keep moving.” Mustache man pushed the prospect, and I watched Chaps stagger back, a hatred he couldn't reciprocate glowing in his eyes. “Fuck you both. Get your own rooms. If you're just gonna stand there, I'll take care of this cunt myself. She owes me extra for all the trouble.”