Owned By the Silver Foxes (Never Just One #5)

Chapter 1

Lena

It’s three in the morning and the bar is finally empty.

I sigh wearily as I collect the empty glasses from the tables, wiping away the spilled beer as I go.

The crowd was particularly rowdy tonight, and that’s saying something.

I work at the clubhouse for the Iron Vultures, a local motorcycle club that’s notorious for their partying and debauchery.

The nights are long, and the pay is poor, but the tips are good.

I also get free accommodation in the apartment block next door, which belongs to the club.

As soon as I turned eighteen, the foster system pretty much kicked me out on my ass, so I didn’t have a lot of options or job prospects.

I’ve been working here for a year now. Most of the guys know better than to try it on with me, which is a relief since most of the barmaids have to contend with overly handsy customers on a nightly basis.

Zeke broke the fingers of the last guy who touched me without my permission.

Zeke is the president of the Iron Vultures, and he’s pretty protective of me, to say the least. Although I’ve done nothing to encourage him, Zeke has laid claim to me.

I’ve done my best to avoid his advances, but I don’t know how much longer he’ll wait.

He’s made it clear that he wants me to be his woman and says that I’m his, whether I like it or not.

Maybe there’s something wrong with me because I’m not sure why I keep turning him down.

He’s attractive, tall, and well-muscled with piercing blue eyes and ice blonde hair.

Most of the women here fall at his feet.

But there’s something about him that scares me.

He’s got a mean, violent streak that I’ve witnessed firsthand, although he’s never directed that rage at me. Zeke treats me like a princess.

My colleague, Trish, is green with envy that Zeke has chosen me.

She’d love nothing more than to be his old lady and has told me as much.

As a self-proclaimed club bunny, she’s jealous of the women who manage to get with the bikers.

She’s already clocked off for the night, leaving with the latest conquest in a string of prospects that she’s laid claim to.

I think she mostly took the job to get closer to the guys because she certainly doesn’t pull her weight behind the bar.

Like a band groupie, she fawns over the bikers, desperate for their approval and to spend a night with them.

Perhaps that’s what Zeke likes about me, the fact that I’m not interested in any of the bikers.

I can’t deny that I’m attracted to Zeke.

I’ll admit that I’ve imagined what it would be like to sleep with him on more than one occasion, but I’m not ready for that kind of commitment—to Zeke or the club.

Being his old lady means something more than just being a girlfriend.

Perhaps if I just give in and have sex with him, we’ll have some fun, and he’ll get over the idea of us being a couple.

With that in mind, I down a shot of tequila for some liquid courage before locking up and walking determinedly toward Zeke’s house across the road.

As expected, he’s still up, having been one of the last to leave the club.

The lights are on, and I can hear music coming from inside.

It’s a regular occurrence that he hosts private after-parties at his place, picking out the most attractive club girls to hang out with him and his men.

It occurs to me then that Zeke could already be hooking up with someone, and I lose my nerve, turning around to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” I hear Zeke’s confident drawl from behind me. I turn to look at him, standing in the doorway, practically filling it. He smiles a slow, easy smile at me, as if he knows exactly why I came tonight. “Come on in,” he commands.

Feeling stupid, I do as he tells me. The air is cloying with the smell of weed.

Three club girls wearing just their underwear sit on the laps of Zeke’s cronies while two others dance in front of them.

On the table, there’s a mirror with lines of coke cut on it.

One of the women leans forward and snorts a line before falling back on the couch, seemingly oblivious to the fact that the man whose lap she’s sat on is playing with her breasts.

He shrugs her bra off, exposing her pink, pert nipples, looking me directly in the eye as if in challenge.

My cheeks flush, and I immediately regret coming. This isn’t my scene.

“Look who I found,” Zeke says, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me close. He smells of stale sweat and cigarettes and I instinctively recoil.

Trish stops dancing and scowls. Clearly, she’d been hoping to upgrade to Zeke tonight, and I’ve ruined her plans. “Finally decided you’re not too good for us?” she asks snarkily.

“I never said…”

“Ignore her, she’s just jealous, baby,” Zeke interrupts. If looks could kill, Trish would murder me right here. “Come, sit,” Zeke says, dragging me onto his lap and pushing the others on the couch out of the way. His hand on my waist feels like a brand upon my skin.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

I move away as much as I can, sliding off his lap to sit beside him, but he keeps his hold on me, unwilling to let go now that he has me here.

Zeke clicks his fingers, and one of the club girls hands the mirror over to him.

He cuts several lines of coke, taking the biggest one for himself before offering it to me.

“No, thanks,” I say, shaking my head. I’ve never done drugs, and I don’t intend to start now.

“Lame,” Trish snorts. “This party is getting boring!” she declares. “I want some fun!”

With her eyes never leaving Zeke, she strolls over to the other dancing club bunny and proceeds to grind against her.

The other girl seems pretty out of it, but she happily dances too, and when Trish kisses her, she kisses her back enthusiastically, putting on a show.

The men watch with predatory eyes as the women perform for them.

“I think I should go…” I say, feeling more uncomfortable by the second. When I thought about coming and hooking up with Zeke, I wasn’t imagining this. I’m no prude, but I don’t want this.

“Leave us,” Zeke commands to the others.

“Come on, ladies, hot tub time,” Spike, Zeke’s VP, says.

The women follow him and the other two men, giggling and throwing off their clothes as they head outside.

The woman whose breasts are still exposed and her man remain.

He picks her up, wrapping her legs around his waist, and carrying her up the stairs, presumably to a bedroom, leaving Zeke and me alone.

“Alone at last, darlin’. I knew you’d come to your senses eventually,” Zeke says, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.

My heart is pounding. This is all wrong.

I no longer want this. Does Zeke expect us to hook up right here on the couch while all his buddies are in the house and could walk in on us at any minute?

Perhaps he expects them to join in at some point.

Does he think that I’ll make out with the other girls like Trish?

I love women, but I have no interest in them sexually.

Zeke leans in and kisses me, pushing his tongue in my mouth. His strong arms pull me close in a vice-like grip that I can’t escape. He paws at my chest, squeezing my breasts painfully, making me yelp.

“You like that, don’t you?” he growls, moving to kiss and bite my neck, giving me a hickey.

I put my hands on his chest, trying to push him back. “Zeke, please, stop.”

“Don’t be a tease, we both know why you came here,” he says, not stopping as he fiddles with the button on my jeans, trying to undo it.

“I know, but not like this,” I say, feeling desperate. I need him to stop. I need this to be over.

“You want to go upstairs to the bedroom instead?” Zeke asks, misunderstanding me.

“I think I should go home…” I say, trying to wiggle free from his grasp.

“You don’t need to play hard to get any more, baby girl. You’re mine. I want to get what’s mine finally. I’ve been patient, haven’t I? You came here for this. You want this,” he says as he shove my hand on his crotch.

“I made a mistake.” I push him more forcefully this time.

When his eyes meet mine, a flood of fear drowns me. That untapped, violent aggression that I’ve witnessed countless times against others is there. I realize then that he’s not going to stop.

“You’re mine, Lena, you’ll give me what I want. No more playing around.”

He pulls my jeans off as I struggle against him, but he’s too strong. I hear him unbuckling his pants, and I know I’m helpless to stop him.

“Please, Zeke, no,” I beg, hot tears starting to fall, flooding me with shame that I’m not strong enough to stop this, to hide my fear. He ignores my pleas. It’s like he’s in a trance, in some primitive state that I can’t reach him.

“You’ve denied me for too long. I’m not some fucking idiot who’s gonna put a roof over your head and protect you for nothing. You fucking owe me. I own you!” he snarls.

I know then that he’s going to rape me. I desperately look toward the door hoping that someone will walk in, but given Zeke is their Prez I don’t know if they’d help me.

“Please don’t,” I repeat as I try and break free. He grabs my wrists as I shove him away, but I realize that nothing I can do is going to stop this from happening.

***

I’m curled up on the sofa with my arms wrapped around my legs. My tears have long since dried but I don’t think Zeke notices or cares.

“I knew you’d love it,” he says with a smirk.

I glance up at him. He honestly has no understanding of what he’s just done. He thinks he can have any woman he wants, whenever he wants them. I have to get away. Even though working the bar at the clubhouse is the only job I’ve known, I can’t be near him.

But where could I go?

“Get dressed,” he says as he throws my clothes at me. I wordlessly take them and start dressing. Thankful at least, that this must mean he’s done with me for now. My hands are shaking as I pull on my t-shirt.

I’m pulling on my panties when I hear it. A low hum in the distance that’s slowly getting closer.

Zeke walks toward the window.

The rumbling sounds of motorcycles rapidly approaching gets louder. The man who went upstairs earlier comes thudding down the stairs in only a pair of boxer shorts.

“Prez, it’s the Soaring Eagles!” he says, looking panicked.

“Fuck!” Zeke swears. My racing heart slows as relief floods me. This is my chance to escape.

I’ve overheard them talking about the Soaring Eagles MC before and how the war between them has been escalating. Earlier this evening, I overheard some men bragging about how they’d put two of their men in the hospital. It seems the Soaring Eagles have come to return the favor.

Zeke and his VP start pulling weapons out of the gun safe by the door and the other men all come thundering downstairs ready for action. No one pays me any attention as I slowly get up off the sofa.

There’s a sudden crack and the sound of glass breaking.

Zeke fires off a couple of shots at the Soaring Eagles, who return fire before riding off.

I know I don’t have much time. Without thinking, I go into autopilot.

I rush outside into the backyard, racing out of the gate, not caring that I’m not even wearing pants.

I ignore Trish, who calls out, asking what I’m doing and what’s going on.

I rush into the road into the path of the leaving motorcycles, desperately trying to flag one down.

To my relief, a helmeted man pulls over.

“Please, please take me with you!” I beg.

“Get on,” he replies, and I jump on the back, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist and throwing on the spare helmet he hands me.

As we tear away, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve escaped one danger only to put myself into an even worse one. I have no idea who this man is. All I know is that they’re the enemy of the club where I live and work. I just have to hope that this stranger who has taken pity on me can help me.

Once Zeke realizes what I’ve done, I’m a dead woman. No one crosses him and lives to tell the tale. He wasn’t kidding when he said he thinks I’m his. Who knows what he’ll do to get me back?