Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Frankie
“Mmmph!” I groan around the disgusting bandana shoved in my mouth as Bane presses harder on my back, pinning me against the leather seat.
The asshole hasn’t let up since he threw me back here. If by some miracle I make it out of this alive, I’m going to make it my mission to bury him and his whole club. If he thinks I’ve wrecked his life already, he has no idea what’s in store for him.
The truck hits a pothole, and my forehead smacks against the door.
Sharp pain shoots through my skull, but I can’t even cuss at the asshole holding me down like he deserves because of the gag cutting into the corners of my mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten, trying to regulate my thoughts. I need to clear my head and figure out a way out of this mess.
I really screwed the pooch this time. This is seriously not how I pictured dying.
I always thought it’d be quick. Painless. Maybe a heart attack at my computer at eighty while hacking into some billionaire oil tycoon’s offshore accounts for fun.
Not kidnapped by a psychotic biker who smells like leather and smoke that my traitorous brain finds way too appealing.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I can’t be attracted to this guy. I mean, the jerk literally threw me over his shoulder like a sack of freaking potatoes, zip-tied my wrists, and gagged me with a bandana he pulled out of his pocket. Can you say unsanitary? Ick. And here I am noticing what he smells like?
Trinity was right. I’ve lost my damn mind.
“She’s not gonna stop wiggling,” Journey says from the driver’s seat.
“Good.” Bane’s voice rumbles above me, and I feel the vibration of it through his palm against my spine. “I like it when they fight.”
Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.
I’m going to die.
The Kings are going to kill me and dump my body in a swamp somewhere, and nobody will even notice I’m gone for weeks. Maybe even months. It’s not like anyone was ever around, and Dad’s been missing for weeks. Who’s going to report that I am too?
My throat tightens, and tears burn behind my eyes.
No. Absolutely not. Dry it up, Frank. Do NOT give these assholes the satisfaction.
Gritting my teeth I thrash harder, trying to buck Bane’s hand off my back, but he’s too strong.
“Keep it up, Troublemaker,” he murmurs, pressing down harder as his lips brush across my ear. “You’re making my dick hard.”
I freeze.
Did he just—
“Dude.” Journey sounds disgusted. “That’s fucked up, even for you.”
“What?” Bane sounds genuinely confused. “I’m just being honest.”
“Yeah, well, keep your honesty to yourself. She’s terrified.”
Thank the gods. At least one of these assholes seems to have a conscience. Though I’m not sure “terrified” fully covers what I’m feeling right now. It’s more like... terror, rage, confusion, and—if I’m being completely honest with myself—a tiny, twisted thread of something I refuse to acknowledge.
Because acknowledging it would mean admitting that some dark part of me is turned on by this jerk, and that’s just... no.
Nope.
Not going there.
The piercing sound of AC/DC’s “Back in Black” sounds through the cab of the truck.
“Fuck!” Journey swears. “It’s Stella. I gotta take this.”
Guess he didn’t tell his girlfriend he’d be busy kidnapping someone tonight.
“Take it,” Bane says, his hand still pressing me into the seat.
I hear the animated click when Journey swipes to answer. “Stells? What’s wrong?”
Even through the phone I can hear a woman’s voice, high-pitched and panicked. I can’t make out the words, but the fear in her tone is unmistakable.
My stomach twists.
“Slow down, sis,” Journey says, his voice tight. “Where are you right now?”
More frantic talking.
“Okay. Okay, baby girl. You’re safe. Is your friend still with you?”
The pressure on my back eases slightly as Bane shifts, clearly listening.
“Some guy tried to grab you?” Journey’s voice goes deadly quiet. “What do you mean, tried to grab you?”
Oh no.
“She pepper-sprayed him? Good. That’s good. Where are you now?” Journey pauses, listening. “All right. Go to my apartment. Lock the doors. Don’t open them for anyone. You understand?”
Another pause.
“I don’t give a fuck if you think I’m overreacting,” his voice is more demanding. “Girls have been going missing for months, and you’re not about to be their next victim. Got me? Now do what the fuck I said, and go to my place. Now.”
My eyes widen.
They’re talking about human trafficking.
“I’ll be there soon,” Journey continues. “Stella. Hey. Listen to me. You’re okay. You got away. You’re safe. Don’t cry, darlin’. You’re killin’ me here.”
The line goes quiet for a moment, then Journey exhales hard. “Love you too, baby girl. Now go.”
He ends the call, and the truck fills with a tense silence.
“Fuck,” Bane growls above me.
“Change of plans, bro,” Journey says, his voice hard. “We need to get to the clubhouse and talk to Tacoma.”
“Yeah.” Bane’s hand finally lifts off my back, and I suck in a deep breath through my nose. “This shit is hitting way too close to home.”
“What about the girl?” Journey asks.
There’s a pause, and I can feel Bane’s eyes on me.
“Guess she’s coming with us,” he says, and I hear something in his voice. Resignation? Annoyance?
I try to sit up, but Bane’s hand lands on my shoulder, keeping me down.
“Stay,” he orders, like I’m a damn dog.
I growl around the gag, which only makes him chuckle.
“You’re cute.”
I am not cute, you psychotic asshole.
The truck speeds up, and I lose track of time lying here with my face pressed against the leather, my shoulders screaming from the awkward angle of my arms behind my back.
After what feels like forever, the truck finally slows and turns.
Gravel crunches under the tires.
“We’re here,” Journey announces. “Hope you’re ready for your brother to blow a fucking gasket.”
Here? I try to lift my head. Where’s here? Their murder dungeon?
The truck stops, and Bane opens the door. Cool night air rushes in, and I suck it in through my nose.
“Up,” Bane orders, grabbing my arm and hauling me upright.
My head spins from the sudden movement, and I blink against the dizziness.
“E-e, ah-ho,” I growl around the gag as I scan the area.
What is this place?
We’re in what looks like some kind of compound. There’s a massive steel building ahead—three stories at least—with motorcycles parked out front. Security lights illuminate the property, and I can see a high fence topped with barbed wire surrounding the entire area.
Shit. This is their murder dungeon.
This is it. This is where I die.
Bane drags me out of the truck, and my legs almost give out. I’m not sure if it’s from fear or because I haven’t been on my feet in over thirty minutes, but whatever the reason, my legs feel numb and tingly.
“Walk,” he commands, his hand wrapped around my upper arm.
I stumble and he catches me easily, hauling me upright.
“I said walk, Troublemaker.”
I shoot him the dirtiest look I can manage. No sense in cowering now. The clock is ticking. I’ve got nothing left to lose.
Bane holds my stare, and a smirk lights up his face. “There she is.”
I growl at the rat bastard, and his lips tip up higher.
Asshole.
Shoving me forward, he marches us around the side of the clubhouse with Journey falling into step beside us.
Bane punches a code into a keypad, and the door clicks open. He shoves me inside, and I stumble into a darkened hallway.
My nose wrinkles at the smell. Weed, cigarettes, and stale beer assault my senses. How very on-brand for a biker gang’s hangout.
“Tacoma’s office,” Bane mutters, steering me down the hallway.
We stop at a door, and Journey knocks twice before pushing it open.
Inside, sitting behind a large wooden desk is a man who looks like an older, more dangerous version of Bane. There’s no denying the heritage. They’ve both got the same dark hair, same piercing blue eyes, and same scary aura.
And in his lap, perched like she’s the queen of the castle, is a blonde woman in leather pants and a tank top.
Journey steps in first and lifts his chin. “Tacoma. Foxy.”
The man—Tacoma—looks up, his eyes immediately landing on me.
More specifically, on the gag in my mouth and the fact that my hands are tied behind my back.
“We’ve got a problem,” Journey says.
Tacoma’s brow arches slowly, his gaze sliding to Bane. “The fuck is this shit?”
Bane shoves me farther into the room and pushes me down into a chair in front of the desk.
I land hard, wincing as the impact jars my already aching shoulders.
“This,” Bane says, his voice dripping with disdain, “is the bitch who’s been stealing my money, but she’s not the problem Journey’s talking about.”
Tacoma’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “This... little girl is who stole your money?”
The blonde woman elbows him hard in the gut.
“Fuck, Cali. That hurt,” the big man barks, rubbing his side.
Bane smirks at the violence.
Foxy-Cali-whoever she is, slides off Tacoma’s lap and crosses her arms. “Not all women are helpless, you sexist asshole.” Her eyes slide to me, and she winces. “No offense. I’m sure you’re not as helpless when you’ve got a computer. You did steal this jackass’s money afterall.” She motions to Bane.
I narrow my eyes. If I had my hands and an internet connection, I’d show her helpless.
“Are we done?” Bane asks, sounding bored.
Foxy grins at him. “For now.”
My head is spinning.
What kind of fresh hell is this place? Nobody seems to care that my hands are tied behind my back, and there’s a freaking gag in my mouth. I’m clearly not here by choice. Who are these psychos?
“Journey,” Tacoma says, leaning back in his chair. “What’s the problem?”
Journey’s jaw clenches. “My sister was almost abducted tonight. She and her friend were leaving the movies when some guy tried to grab Stella. Her friend pepper-sprayed the guy, and he took off.”
The room goes silent.
Tacoma’s expression darkens. “Where is she now?”
“I told her to go to my apartment and wait for me there,” Journey says.
Tacoma grabs his cell phone, pushes some buttons, then puts it to his ear. “City, grab Moby and get your asses over to Journey’s apartment. His sister’s there. Keep an eye on her, and watch for any Sinners.”
My brows snap together.
Who the hell are the Sinners?
Tacoma ends the call, then starts pushing more buttons on the screen.
A second later, all the phones in the room chime with an alert.
“Church in thirty,” Tacoma announces, setting his phone down.
Bane looks down at me, and I see the conflict flash across his face. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with her?”
Tacoma glances at Foxy and lifts a dark brow.
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. But take that fucking gag out of her mouth.”
Thank God.
Bane moves behind me, grabs my messy bun, and yanks my head back.
Hard.
I gasp, but it comes out like a moan.
Oh no. No, no, no.
His lips brush against my ear. “Don’t be a fucking troublemaker for Foxy.”
He pulls the gag out, and I whip my head around, narrowing my eyes at his smug face. “Fuck. You. Asshole.”
Bane’s grin widens. The big fucker is enjoying this.
“Later, baby. I promise.”
Turning my head, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to me. This is crazy.
Alone in the office with Foxy, I watch as she settles back into the chair behind the desk and studies me with her bright green eyes.
“So...” she starts, an amused smile playing on her lips. “You and Bane, huh?”
My head rears back. Is she on fucking crack? Me and the asshole who kidnapped me?
“Are you out of your goddamn mind, lady? My hands are zip-tied behind my back! That asshole kidnapped me!” I snarl, my breathing ragged.
She opens her mouth to reply when a rustling sound comes from under the desk.
Chest heaving, I glance down. What the actual fuck? I watch in absolute disbelief as a raccoon—an actual freaking raccoon—scurries out and climbs into Foxy’s lap.
“Is that a—” I shake my head, not believing what I’m seeing.
“Yeah,” she smiles, looking down at the rodent. “This is Panda.”
Panda. Of course, it has a name. Closing my eyes, I pull in a deep breath. You can’t make this shit up. If by some miracle I make it out of this nightmare circus alive, nobody will ever fucking believe me.
Opening my eyes, I shake my head.
Foxy’s stroking the raccoon’s fur like it’s a house cat.
“If you say so,” she murmurs, her smile never wavering.
I stare at the raccoon.
Then at Foxy.
Then back at the raccoon.
“What the hell is happening right now?” I whisper.
Foxy just laughs.