35. Harper
35
Harper
W ith a heave-ho, the prospects dumped Harper onto the stained pool table. Someone cursed about interrupting their game, but she couldn’t see who. Groaning, she squeezed her eyes shut as more pain ricocheted through her. Everything hurt. Parts of her body she never knew existed throbbed.
Clenching her teeth, she did her best not to cry with all the eyes of everyone in the clubhouse on her despite desperately wanting to. It wouldn’t change anything. They wouldn’t show her empathy or mercy. Bikers didn’t respect weakness. She had to do her best to keep a straight face. Which was hard as hell considering she didn’t know which was worse, her nausea or the migraine blurring her vision.
Lifting her lids, she sought something to ground her—anything to focus on.
With her eyes locked on the discolored tiles of the dropped ceiling, she inhaled through her nose and blew out through her mouth. The repeated kicks had probably cracked a rib or two, so breathing was agony.
Which no one around her seemed all that concerned about. Instead, the crowd continued with their mumbled conversations as if she wasn’t lying here bound and suffering. This wasn’t the club she remembered her father leading in her youth. It broke her heart knowing he’d let it get like this, and now her brothers were a part of it. What had they become?
Fingers from a thick paw of a hand trailed down her cheek. It drew her attention, and she shifted her focus to the large, burly man with the long, bushy brown beard. His eyes were glassy and bloodshot. His stringy brown hair hung loosely past his shoulders as he cocked his head to the side. Dwight.
“Hey, baby,” he said affectionately.
Narrowing her eyes, Harper couldn’t believe his audacity. Fury swirled inside her, and she tugged at her restraints. The plastic of the zip ties dug farther into her wrists and ankles. It burned, and she swore she felt the moment they finally sliced into her flesh.
“Fuck you,” she seethed.
His grin grew wider. “In time.” He stroked his hand through her chocolate-and-amber mane. “First, I want to make it official.”
What the hell is he talking about?
Taking hold of her upper arm and her thigh, Dwight lifted and rolled Harper over from her back to lying on her belly. Fireworks shot off everywhere, and she bit down on her bottom lip to prevent her cries of anguish. Turning her head, resting her cheek on the red felt, she had an eyeful of crotch.
“You’ve forgotten your place,” Dwight said as he crouched so he could meet her gaze. “You are the property of the Roughneck Riders, born into this life. Your dad may have been okay with your running off to North Carolina, but I’m not.”
“It’s not your choice,” she snapped.
He chuckled and ran his hand over her hair again until he tangled his fingers in it. Making a fist, he yanked.
She couldn’t help it. The squeal slipped past her lips as he strained her neck with her head jerked backward.
“They voted me president, baby. It absolutely is my decision what happens to you,” he whispered.
“Where’s Weston?” she demanded. Her brother wouldn’t let this happen to her. There was no chance in hell he’d stand idle and let Dwight do this, let alone in public.
“Your dad sent him on a run.” Dwight rolled his eyes. “Took the baby with him too,” he said of Colt.
Both of her brothers were out of town. Harper’s blood ran cold. Weston didn’t know. If he was away on club business, then he was out of contact. No one could get in touch with him. Which meant he wasn’t aware of their father’s death, and he definitely hadn’t been told about Dwight taking over.
Motherfucker.
“So, now that you’re back where you belong, we can finish what we started.” Dwight released her head, and it dropped.
Thankfully, she still had the wherewithal not to let her chin slam onto the table. Closing her eyes, she fought another wave of intense nausea as her head felt as though someone twisted a dagger into the base of her skull.
“Church is in session, brothers!” Dwight announced, turning away from her with his arms raised. “First point of order, I am claiming Harper Myers as my ol’ lady.” His hand landed on her left ass cheek with a loud crack. As her flesh jiggled beneath her torn leggings, a fresh sting rippled through her.
The room erupted into a chorus of loud cheers and whistles. From the sound of it, the club had grown significantly since she’d last graced these halls.
“I am not your ol’ lady,” Harper insisted, but her words fell on deaf ears.
Wriggling as best she could, she futilely tried to escape his grip as he massaged and groped her, his fingers dipping between the crack between her cheeks and lower.
“Get off me!” she ordered, just as unsuccessfully.
“Prepare the iron!” he hollered.
The clubhouse roared louder.
Harper’s heart stopped and her eyes widened. Iron? No. He couldn’t be serious.
Turning back toward her, he once again bent to fill her vision. “Don’t look so scared.” He grinned manically.
The way his eyes sparkled filled her with fear. The Dwight she’d grown up with never looked this evil. Even after she’d broken up with him over a decade ago, when he hadn’t taken it well, he didn’t have that expression.
The devil looked back at her.
This was beyond terrifying. She might not make it out of this alive.
Where had the kid she’d grown up with gone?
Stroking her bruised cheek, he studied her. “It only hurts for like a week or so, but it’s worth it. You, and everyone else, will know you belong to me.”
He poked at the tip of her nose before he stood up and stepped aside. His fingers curled in the waistband of her leggings.
“What are you doing?” she screamed and twisted, pulling her legs up. The zip ties tore at her ankles. She needed to get out of this.
“Hold her,” Dwight barked.
Meaty hands pressed down on her shoulders.
“Fuck you!” she screeched as more came down on the backs of her calves and thighs. The surrounding bikers flattened her body down on the table. The harder she fought, the more men pushed her down.
“Fighting is useless,” he said, wearing a grin. “Just go with it. If you don’t, and you move too much, you’ll fuck it up. I guarantee you don’t want that, because I’ll just do it again somewhere else. Like your beautiful tits. I’ll keep doing it until I get a good one.”
She squeezed her eyes shut the moment Dwight yanked her leggings and panties down, exposing her ass to the room. Helpless, she stilled and allowed the tears to stream down her face as humiliation added insult to injury.
Begging him to stop would only make matters worse. He wouldn’t. Dwight wanted her to know he was in control. He had to show his men that he took what he wanted, and he wanted Harper. She was a pawn in his stupid biker power play game. She’d never hated him more than she did at that moment.
“Breathe through it, baby” were the last words she heard before the most intense, blinding pain seared the side of her right ass cheek.
Fire. Her burning flesh filled her nostrils as she let out an ear-piercingly loud shriek. Despite the men holding her down, she trembled through the most unbearable anguish she had ever felt.
“Good girl,” Dwight cooed in her ear as he stroked her hair.