Chapter 37 ABBEY
After peeing, I hurry to get myself dressed in my leathers, but since this stall is so tiny, I know I’ll have to do it out by the basins.
Flushing the toilet, I unlatch the lock on my stall and move to the counter, dumping my leathers on top. I quickly wash my hands, peering up into the mirror and seeing just how flushed my cheeks are.
Ohhh, Ringo would have loved seeing them like that. He would have instantly known how turned on he’d made me.
I smile at myself as I hear the door squeak open, and drop my gaze back down to my hands to finish washing up.
I can’t wait to get my birthday present off him.
His mouth on me… eating me.
I bite my lip as heat pools between my legs.
Jesus, I don’t know if I can even make it to this place he’s going to take me. I’m so… horny.
Shutting the water off, I turn to search for the paper towel dispenser, and gasp as I come face to face with someone I’d hoped I’d never see again.
“You killed my nephew.”
Air gets trapped in my lungs as I stagger back, only to bump into the basin, my hands immediately reaching back to steady myself.
“Nothing to say, slut?”
“You need to leave!” I yell, hoping someone will hear, and Ian Allen’s face contorts in a sneer.
“I’ll fucking leave once I’ve gotten what I’ve come for.”
Shit. Shit. Shit. My phone is with my leathers on the counter, and my eyes flick to it sitting right on top.
It’s at least three metres from where I am, but only a few feet from where Ian is.
“There’s nothing for you here!” I yell louder, and he chuckles.
“Bitch, you are what I need. I’m gonna take you with me and do everything and more that my nephew and his mates did to you. I’m not even going to kill you. I’m going to keep you until the day I fucking die.”
I believe every word he’s saying. If he takes me, I’ll likely never be found, but Ringo is here in this building. Surely he’ll come looking for me soon, right?
Shit. I have to believe that, which means I have to make sure Ian can’t take me anywhere.
“I’m not going anywhere with you!” I yell, and his eyes darken, his stare lethal.
“Yes, you fucking are. You have to pay for what you did to Donny. And I’ll take that payment with your cunt, your mouth, and your fucking tight arse.”
My chest is rising and falling too quickly. I need to calm the hell down. I’ve been in situations like this before, even with this very man.
He raped me before. At the chapel. I can’t bear to go through that again. But I don’t want to be the victim here. Last time we saw each other, I was the one hunting him.
But shit, I was different then. A different version of myself who lived in a world that Bobbi didn’t exist in. A world that she’d died in. A world far different from the world I live in now.
I’m not the same person.
He takes a step forward, and I immediately notice his limp, and shit, my lips slowly spread wide as I remember slicing the knife across the back of his ankle.
“Why the fuck are you smiling?” he snaps, and I feel the old me that has been hovering in the background as she steps back into my skin.
“Does it still hurt?” I pout, mocking him, and his old ugly face turns beet red.
“You think it’s funny? I have to work behind a desk now!”
“Ohh, poor Officer Allen,” I tease. “I guess it’s better than being dead like Donny.”
“You shut up, you fucking whore!”
I shrug, shifting along the bench a little, hoping to subtly move closer to my phone.
“Stop. Please. I’m sorry.” I whine in a mocking tone, saying the words Donny said when I caught up with him at the airfield. “P-please I’ll d-do anything.”
I deliberately stutter the same way Donny did, and Ian launches himself at me.
I dodge him, lurching towards my phone, but he grabs me from behind, dragging me backwards, and my fingers skim the dangling leathers as I go down to the tiled floor.
“You fucking slut. You’ll pay for what you did to him!” he yells, and I inwardly grin, because if he’s yelling, then someone might hear and get help.
I claw at the tiles as I’m dragged across them on my stomach, but I keep talking. Keep poking the bear.
“When I shot his shoulders, he howled like a FUCKING PUSSY!” I scream. “P-please… s-stop…” I mock, and Ian shoves me over, onto my back, settling his heavy weight over my pelvis and legs, despite the way I flail.
“You vicious cunt! I know what you did. I was there!”
I grin up at him, ceasing my attempt to get free.
“Oh, that’s right. You were. But you stood back and watched, didn’t you?” I curl my lip at him. “Did you like the part where I gave him a taste of his own medicine?”
“Shut up, bitch!” He backhands me, the sting across my face just helping me to sink further into my monster.
“He deep throated that gun so well before I blew his brains out,” I say sweetly, and he snaps.
Fisting each side of my head, he slams it back to the tiles, and I instantly see stars as pain bursts through my skull.
A strangled scream rips from me right as the wail of my ringtone starts to echo through the room, but Ian ignores it, wrapping his hand around my throat and squeezing.
I claw at the side of his face as I start to panic, but remember the best thing I can do is not panic, so I try really hard to calm the hell down as I choke and feel like I’m going to suffocate.
“My Donny didn’t deserve to die like that!” he yells, squeezing tighter, and well… I guess he’s decided just to kill me and not take me with him.
Perhaps poking the bear was the wrong thing to do.
Squeezing my hands between us, I clutch them together and shove them up and out, managing to dislodge one of his hands from my neck, and I roll, gasping as he scrambles to get a hold of me again.
Tears stream from my eyes as I try to claw my way across the tiles, only managing to get a little way before he’s on my back, his feet shoving between my legs, trying to pry them open.
“No! NO!” I scream, knowing I’d rather die that be raped again. “GET OFF ME!” I scream, reaching for my dangling leathers, needing to get to my phone.
My head gets shoved hard to the tiles, the fucker’s hand pressing down, his body weight against it as he holds me in place, and I feel cold air hit my lower back as my dress gets shoved up.
“NO!” I scream before a loud crash rips through the air, and the thud of heavy boots charges in.
With my head turned to that side, I see the boots stop just beside me, and a sob gets stuck in my throat.
“Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Wife.”
My sob releases as the relief of hearing Ringo’s voice washes over me, and the weight pressing into my back disappears as my husband steps forward.
I scramble quickly across the tiles to my leathers, and tug them to the floor next to me as I look up to see Ringo’s hand around Ian’s throat as he pins him to the wall, his brutal fist slamming into his face, over and over.
My hands tremble as I pick up my phone and open it, clicking straight into the app that Lewy insisted the club start using, and I hit the big red button.
An alert sound rings from Ringo’s back pocket, and I know the app is doing what it’s designed for, sending an alert to the club with my location so they can get the nearest members or associates to me as fast as possible.
It’s not just for me, but for every member, every Doxy, and their families.
Stepping back from the wall, Ringo drags Ian with him, blood smearing Ian’s face as he chokes and struggles to breathe.
“No one touches what’s mine!” Ringo snarls into Ian’s face. “The fucking penalty is death, motherfucker!”
My monstrous husband fists Ian’s hair, and slams his forehead into the rim of the basin, the cracking sound loud, sending my stomach rolling.
It was the basin cracking, not his skull, I tell myself, shuddering as I watch on as Ringo drops Ian’s limp form to the floor.
Oh shit, who am I kidding? That was definitely Ian’s skull.
For a moment, I think that’s it. Ian’s dead, and it’s finally over, but a wheeze crackles up from his parted lips, and he rolls his head in my direction, his blood-filled swollen eyes blinking at me.
It’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. Something straight out of a horror movie, and I’m so distracted by it that I don’t see Ringo take out his knife until it’s plunging right into Ian’s ear and straight into his brain.
Trembles wrack my entire body as I stare at the last bit of light flickering out from behind Ian’s eyes, before Ringo shifts between us, blocking my view.
“Angel,” he rasps, his voice pained as his big hand cups my cheek, tilting my head back to get a better look at me.
“I’m okay,” I sob, really not sounding okay.
“I’m so fucking sorry. I thought you were getting changed, which was why you were taking so long. I never imagined…”
I shake my head, peering up into his deep brown eyes. “It’s over,” I whisper. “There’s no one left to hunt me.”
“Fuck, Abs,” he sighs, his expression pinched like he’s kicking himself for not coming to find me sooner.
“I’m okay. Nothing I can’t handle,” I tell him, hoping it will reassure him, and he sighs, leaning closer to press his lips gently to the top of my head.
The bathroom door bangs open, and we both stiffen as more heavy feet come rushing in.
Shit. Is it the cops? Will Ringo go to jail now?
“Fuck, man.” A voice comes from beside me, and I glance at the shoes, not boots, that look a little too classy and shiny to belong to a biker. “She okay?”
“Yeah.” Ringo stands, and I see him reach out and shake someone’s hand.
When my eyes travel up, I see it’s one of the Marx crew. I can only tell because of the cufflinks that have the same M symbol that Griffin wears, so maybe he’s one of the brothers.
It’s hard to tell, since his hair colour is a little lighter than the other Marx men I’ve met, but this one seems nice as he smiles, flashing a playful grin down at me.
“Finally, we meet. I’m Liam Marx. The best brother.” He beams, and Ringo scoffs.
“Get your eyes off my wife’s tits, arsehole.”
My lips drop open, and I look down, realising that in the scuffle, my dress has shifted so much that my breasts are nearly spilling out.
“My bad. Didn’t mean it.” Liam grins, and I giggle quietly as they start talking shop, and a horde of other men walk in, assessing the situation, and shutting down the restaurant.
Riggs eventually turns up, and people are paid off to keep quiet while they clean up, and right now, I’m thankful Ringo has an alliance with the Marx family. They have helped us out so many times through all of this. We truly are indebted to them.
By the time Ringo leads me out of the bathroom, the restaurant is empty, the lights are mostly shut off, and it’s like no one has been here all day.
“Angel.” Ringo’s gentle voice drags my attention from our surroundings to find him scanning my injuries.
“I’ll heal. Stop stressing,” I try to say playfully, but his concern never wavers.
“Dessert can wait,” he mutters. “Let’s get you back home so I can take care of you properly.”
I can’t even argue with that, because home, close to Bobbi and Tahli with Ringo’s arms wrapped around me, is the only place I want to be.
Now, and forever.