Chapter 16 #2
Lynch jumps into the van and pulls the door shut. He zip-ties my hands to a metal rail running along the side of the van and we drive off.
My wrists ache from the zip ties, and my arms grow numb from how they’ve been twisted and tied to the rail.
Every bump in the road throws me sideways.
One of the men slaps me when I jostle against him.
Lynch immediately punches him in the head and starts going off on him for messing with his property.
Eventually, the van slows down and comes to a stop. I’m shocked to see they’re using an old, abandoned gas station with a garage attached as some kind of hideout. The pumps are rusted out, and the place is a total ruin. The garage door opens just enough to let the van glide through.
They pull me out, and I see a few men are already there. They’re all Diggers, and I don’t recognize any of them. Some have weapons on their belts. One has brass knuckles hanging from his waistband. Another carries a gas can. Why? I can’t imagine. He’s just carrying it around like I do a purse.
They lead me to what appears to be their main room.
Unlike the Savage Legion clubhouse, which has a sports bar feel to it, the Grave Diggers clubhouse carries an air of menace.
There’s a drain in the middle of the concrete floor.
A few folding tables are stacked with liquor bottles and half-eaten food.
Loud music plays from a speaker with a broken grille.
Someone lights a joint and stinks the place up even more.
Chains hang from a hook in the floor in the right-hand corner of the room. Lynch nods at one of them. “Secure my property and don’t rough her up.”
One of them mumbles, “Looks like someone already did.”
Lynch gives him a careless kick and grumbles, “I can do as I like with what’s mine. You will respect my property. Got it?”
“Yeah, sure, boss. Anything you say.”
He grabs me, cuts the zip ties off my wrists, drags me over to the corner, and snaps a metal restraint around my ankle. Making sure it’s tight, he grunts before stalking off.
I lift my leg to see what they’ve put on me, and the heavy chain clicks against the floor. Looking at the length of the chain, I might be able to move around four feet in any direction, but I’d never be able to get to the door.
“She’s off limits,” Lynch says. “Nobody touches her, or they’ll have to deal with me.”
“Not even a little?” someone calls out. “She looks like she’d be fun to mess with.”
Lynch’s expression hardens. “Not unless you want me to cut your dick off.”
That shuts them right up.
They go back to drinking, playing cards, and messing around with their women.
I feel so damn sorry for the women, because I know they don’t want to be here.
Patch told me they were all trafficked. And anyone can tell by their lack of enthusiasm and the eagerness with which they down alcohol that they’re trying to dull the pain.
A few drift closer to have a look at me.
Some even get close enough that I can smell the whiskey on their breath.
“Pretty little thing,” one mutters. “Bet she cries easy.”
“She already cried in the van,” another says. “She screams loud too. She’s got good lungs on her.”
A bottle cap hits my shoulder. Everyone laughs, even Lynch. So, they all take turns pelting me with small things. I see it for what it is—disrespect and intimidation, rather than a genuine intent to harm me. Someone throws an empty can in my direction. It rolls across the floor and hits my foot.
I don’t respond. And I make damn sure I don’t cry, because I get the feeling that if I do, they’ll like it and make it their mission to keep me in tears. Instead, I keep my eyes down.
Someone sticks a plastic cup in my hand. It sloshes over.
“Drink. It’s a party,” he says.
I shake my head. “No. Leave me alone.”
He grabs my wrist and forces the cup to my lips. “Don’t be rude, girl. We’re treatin’ you real nice.”
Only because he forces me, I take a sip. They cheer. I sit in the corner and pretend to sip the drink, because what else can I do?
***
The day stretches into night, and the party keeps going.
By now I’ll be missed. Patch was expecting me at his office.
And I’m sure his mom called him the moment I left, congratulating him on making our marriage real.
The Savage Legion saved me and Lila when Vincent was holding us.
I can only hope and pray that they’ll come through for me again.
More brothers arrive as the evening wears on.
Some of them are with women wearing tacky, disheveled clothing.
They look exhausted. Some of the brothers end up passing out.
Others squabble over card games and end up fighting.
Someone breaks a chair against the wall.
Through it all, the music never stops. It’s like a wild frat party, only with grown men and women who don’t really want to be there.
When they lose interest in me, I make it my business to keep a careful watch on them.
One catches my eye. He hasn’t had a drink since I got here.
He doesn’t join the games. He doesn’t touch me.
He stands near the back exit and keeps his phone in his hand.
He looks at me once, and then his eyes dart away.
He’s not loud and wild like the others. He worries me the most, because I don’t know what that means.
What I do know is that he stays close to me all night.
At some point, they all fall asleep. They just pass out wherever they happen to be. I don’t sleep, though. This isn’t the kind of place where I can let my guard down.