Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
TRIXIE
I’m so damn scared my knees are knocking together.
My speech at church was mostly bravado. Not the bit about owing my life to the Kings, but the part that I’m ready to give my life to save Ace’s.
It’s not that I wouldn’t do that in a heartbeat, but I doubt I’d be stoic.
Being beaten up and raped fucking hurts. Of course, I’m nervous.
I’m in one of the club’s SUVs, being driven to the warehouse where the tracker I planted has pinpointed Ace’s location. Tempest is driving, Freak beside him, and I’m squashed in the middle of the back seat between Woody and Paint.
With every mile we travel, my heart rate rises, and my leg involuntarily bounces. I try to calm myself, but it’s not easy. I’m going to walk into the lion’s den with little hope of getting out. I just hope, while I’m there, that I can get the information Freak and his brothers need.
I try to prepare myself. I can’t expect to gain entry without some of the MDMC wanting to try their new pussy out.
Pulling myself back into the mindset that kept me relatively sane for the ten years of my marriage, I hope that the deviances and cruelty Piero showed are the worst I can expect tonight.
I survived them once. I can do so again.
“It’s not too late to back out,” Paint offers quietly.
But not quietly enough. I can see Freak, riding shotgun, tense.
“I’m going to do this. I just…” I swallow hard as the realisation hits of what I’ve offered to do.
They’re not going to say, hey, new girl, come, let’s show you around and let you get yourself settled before trying you out.
They’re more likely to pull a train. Something I’ve done before, but hell, I enjoyed it.
A few drinks and I was into it as much as the brothers, especially knowing that with the Kings I could always tap out.
It takes a moment for me to be able to finish my sentence.
“I know I might need to play my part before trying to locate Ace.”
Freak slams his hand against the glove box, but he says nothing.
I try to lighten the situation. Touching my ponytail that’s tightly wrapped in a scrunchy, hiding the communication device, I chuckle. “I just feel sorry for you guys having to listen to the MDMC getting their rocks off.”
This time, Freak’s fist against the vehicle’s interior is accompanied by a loud, “Fuck.”
“Brother,” Tempest starts in a calming tone.
“No, this isn’t fuckin’ alright. Whatever you’ve said, Trix, about having cheated death before you came here, I can’t fuckin’ ask you to do this.” Freak turns around to look at me.
As sincerely as I can, I answer him. “I’m not doing this for you, Freak.
And you didn’t ask me, I volunteered because it’s the right thing to do.
Ace is a total innocent. He doesn’t deserve any of this.
And me going into that club is the best chance of getting you the information so you can launch your attack.
” He goes to speak, but I forestay him. “I don’t have a suicide wish.
I’m going to do everything I can to make sure both Ace and I come out of this alive.
No, I’m not looking forward to whatever they’re going to do with me.
But I survived what I did for ten years. A few hours is going to mean nothing.”
He catches my eyes in the glow from the streetlight we’re just happening to pass, and holds them. Even when total darkness descends again, I can still feel them burning into me. “To me, this isn’t nothing, Trixie.”
Then at last, he turns back to look out of the windshield.
The car falls silent. Probably, like me, we’re all lost in our thoughts. Glancing quickly out of the rear window, I see the other vehicles transporting the rest of the brothers, and feel more confident knowing the Kings are really behind me.
As soon as I can get the information to them on where Ace is being held and how many men they’ll be up against, they’ll launch a rescue.
These men are Kings. Their motto is that nobody fucks with them.
As one-percenters, I know they’ve got their own sense of morals, and while I’ve no evidence, I’m sure Words’ cremator has been used a few times to get rid of inconvenient bodies.
But there’s a deep sense of loyalty, and I believe to my bones that even though I’m just a club girl, they don’t see me as disposable.
I trust that if it’s at all possible, they won’t leave me behind.
And if they can’t? I’ve already absolved them of that crime.
If I didn’t believe that, I’d be far more worried about going in. Fucking petrified. As it is, I’m only one step away from letting terror consume me.
“We’re almost here. You know your cover story?”
“If we’ve got that fuckin’ right,” Freak swears again. “How do we know they had this warehouse as a base back in Griz’s day?”
“Bigfoot thought it was a likely bet,” Tempest reminds him.
I try to keep the quaver out of my voice as I try to reassure him. “I’ll wing it. I won’t mention his name if I don’t have to. And yeah, I know, to them Griz was Skunk.”
That’s all the conversation we’ve got time for as Tempest pulls the SUV to a halt.
The men get out, I go to the driver’s door, and start to ease myself into the seat.
But I don’t get far. Freak places his hand around my arm and pulls me back out.
For a moment, we just stand, staring at each other, me preparing to again go over the arguments as to why I should do this, or ready to promise my priority is finding Ace, when he surprises me.
His grip on my arm changes, and his other hand comes up to hold me. Roughly, he pulls me toward him, and his lips slam down on mine, his tongue invading my mouth immediately.
These men don’t normally kiss, not their whores anyway. Kissing suggests an intimacy that could be misread, leading a club girl to get ideas about permanence and an old lady label.
I’m shocked, but respond. Why the fuck not? This is Freak, the man from whom I’ve had to keep my attraction to him under wraps. If these are to be my last few hours on this earth, he couldn’t have given a greater gift to me.
I clutch at him as if he’s a lifeline, as the melding of our mouths continues. I breathe him in, letting his odour fill my senses, knowing it will bolster me in whatever’s to come. That he’s just grateful is obvious. To him, this kiss doesn’t mean anything. Even if, to me, it means the whole world.
He pulls away far too soon, but his eyes blaze down at me. “You get you and Ace somewhere safe if you can’t get both of you out of there. We’ll come find you. You’re both going to come back to me, okay?”
I nod, unable to form words.
“She’s got to get going, Brother.” Tempest gently pulls Freak away.
No more words are spoken as I get in the SUV, take the key Tempest passes to me, adjust the seat by pulling it a mile forward, then start the engine. Within seconds, I’m driving away, leaving them in my rearview.
Well, Trix. Look what you’ve gotten yourself into.
Shaking my head to rid it of negative thoughts, I head toward the lair of the MDMC. It’s Ace who’s important, and who I’ve got to get out.
I’m not brave. No one likes the thought of being hurt and abused. But I am a survivor. I can get through this. I have to, for Ace.
All too soon, the warehouse appears in front of me.
It’s larger than I expected, and the parking lot outside is full of motorbikes.
Having switched on the communication device before leaving Freak and his brothers behind, I count them quickly, then relate the total, which hopefully, if it’s working in the position it’s in, will inform the Kings what they’re facing.
“Twenty-plus bikes. Five cars. Looks like a party is on tonight from all the lights blazing.”
Unfortunately, as I can’t place the device in my ear, as it would be too visible, they can’t talk back to me. I wish I could hear their encouraging voices.
It’s too late to turn around, not that I was going to.
The man, whom I assume is a prospect at the gate, waves me down, leans into the car, but seeing I’m alone, just gives a lewd grin and gestures me inside.
I park alongside the other cars, then, using the mirror, fix the lipstick that Freak had destroyed.
Picking up my small purse containing only a small amount of cash and makeup, I leave my phone, as chances are they’d take it off me.
I step out of the car. I pull my all-too-short skirt down as far as it will go, which is barely covering my ass, then attempt to pull up my sequined top that’s threatening to let my breasts tip out.
In doing so, I bare my midriff. But even at thirty-one years old, my stomach is flat, and having carried no babies to term, I’ve no stretch marks.
Hobbling on the six-inch heels I’d exchanged for my flats when I’d stopped the car, I approach the doorway, where yet another prospect is standing.
Swinging my hips in my best hooker impression, I approach him.
Placing one hand on the doorjamb, I lean forward suggestively. “Heard there was a party tonight.”
He leers at me, his eyes fixing first on my breasts, then on my bared stomach, then to the tops of my legs, as if he’s got X-ray vision and is trying to see what’s underneath.
I hardly dare breathe as I wait for him to question me further, but instead, he informs me, “You’ve come to the right place, sweetheart.
You come and find me later, when I get off shift, you hear me? ”
In the Kings, prospects don’t use the club girls until they’re patched in. Maybe here they’re more lenient. But not wanting to show any MC knowledge, I simply wink at him. “Sure, sugar.” I make sure to let my eyes linger on the not-very-impressive package he’s sporting in his jeans.
“Purse,” he says with a grin.
I hand it over, watching his face as he searches it. He relaxes as he only finds the vitals a working girl would need – makeup, tissues, and condoms.