Vex (Devil Daddies MC #4)

Chapter 1

She’d never liked darkness, even when at home where she knew she was safe. Here, the black shadows filling the unfamiliar space challenged her ability to withstand the panic looming inside her. Angel held on to her composure with the ragged nails on her usually immaculate fingers.

She’d tested every side of the room in her search for an exit from this hellhole and found nothing other than a door that opened randomly to allow the light from the hallway to spill inside.

Each time she cowered, expecting mistreatment.

Each time she’d been correct, and her hopes of being rescued faded away.

Could this get any worse?

A growing ache in her abdomen answered that question.

Angel had no idea how many days had passed since the Ravagers had taken her.

The jerks had used the darkness to keep her from tracking whether it was day or night.

Combined with their random visits to terrorize her with threats of what would happen to her if her father didn’t comply with their demands, Angel had completely lost track of time.

The door slammed open, and she jumped and cowered back against the wall. The tattooed man that swaggered inside laughed mockingly at her automatic reaction before taunting her with the latest update.

“Bad news, Ms. Daniels. Your beloved dad wants nothing to do with you. He’s not willing to pay your ransom. Sucks to be you, huh? I’m debating whether to kill you now or after I turn you over to my men for a bit of fun.”

The apple of her father’s eye, Angel was confident her dad would never have sent that message.

As terrified as she was by his threat of whatever his bikers would consider amusing, Angel tried not to let him see how much he scared her.

Stiffening her back, she tried to pull her courage around her as a shield.

She might have come from a rich family, but that didn’t mean everyone had always treated her well.

Jealous girls had tormented her in school.

Angel had learned to never let them see that their words got to her.

“He’ll pay. You might want to check how loyal your people ferrying messages are. They might have brokered their own deal,” she suggested. Take that, asshole. Hopefully doubts about the hold he had over the Ravager crew would fester in his brain.

“My men would never betray me,” Viper, the Ravager’s president, growled.

“Okay. Just letting you know I’m his only daughter.

If you really haven’t heard from him, something’s wrong.

” Angel crossed her fingers behind her back, hoping to plant additional doubt in the volatile motorcycle club leader’s mind.

Each time she saw Viper, he reacted differently.

Anticipating his reaction to anything was impossible.

“Fucking bitch,” Viper said, storming from the room. “Lock her in again, Cyclone. This time, no water for two days.”

The man who’d sporadically brought her food and drinks since she’d gotten there shouted down the hallway after the irate biker, “You got it, Viper.”

As Cyclone closed the door, Angel called out, “Wait! I need some tampons. I don’t want to make a big mess in here for you to have to clean up.”

The biker wasn’t quite as rough as the others in the Ravagers. He’d told Angel that Viper had assigned this duty to him to make sure she stayed alive because he had medical training. When she’d arrived, he’d gotten her a bucket to pee in.

“Viper’s not going to approve those.”

“I doubt he’s going to scrub the blood off the floor when I’m gone. Maybe you could think of some way to talk him into it?” Angel suggested. She was sure Viper would want to humiliate her. This was a perfectly embarrassing scenario for the MC president to use to his advantage.

“I’ll talk to him. Later. You pissed him off too much.”

Without another word, Cyclone slammed the door shut and locked it. Angel wrapped her arms around herself in the darkness, trying to comfort herself. If only Sammie was there with her. No, she wouldn’t want her stuffie in this awful place.

Catching herself almost sticking her thumb in her mouth for the millionth time, Angel grabbed a fistful of her grubby designer T-shirt to tether her hand away from her face.

She wouldn’t soothe herself by allowing her Little side to come out either.

Who knew whether the Ravagers had installed night-vision cameras in the room with her? Viper probably got off on watching her.

Two days had to have passed when Cyclone returned, for her cramps that always accompanied the heaviest days of her cycle had ended.

Trapped in the darkness with nothing to use for her period, Angel had wadded her skimpy underwear up between her legs.

If only she’d had on the granny panties she usually did during her period.

Unfortunately, she’d been wearing a thong when taken.

That skimpy material had soon become saturated.

She’d tried to rip the bottom of her jeans or shirt off to use as a pad.

Everything resisted tearing. She couldn’t do anything about the mess.

All hope that she’d survive this ordeal evaporated as she lost the last shreds of her dignity.

“He wants to see you,” Cyclone told her.

The biker hauled her to her feet and dragged her to the door. Once out in the hallway, his sneering expression softened as he stared at her lower half. Shuddering inside, Angel followed the path of his gaze and winced. Her crotch and down the inside of her jeans were saturated with dark blood.

She died inside of embarrassment as Cyclone manhandled her through the hallways past leering men who catcalled comments on her condition.

When Angel finally stood in front of Viper, the jerk laughed with gusto as if her menstrual cycle was the best joke ever made.

He pulled out his camera and took a picture of her shrinking body.

“Stand up, rich bitch!” he demanded.

Cyclone shook her arm and yanked her elbow higher, forcing her to straighten. Viper snapped another shot before yelling at Cyclone to turn her around for a rear view. She had no doubt he’d captured more degrading photos.

“Not too appealing now, are you, Angel? I bet your rich friends wouldn’t recognize you. Maybe I should drop you off in the center of that fancy shopping area you like to visit? That would change everyone’s mind about how special you are. Just a stank bitch.”

Angel didn’t answer. She kept her hopes from jumping sky-high at the possibility that he’d release her.

Even the Zona Blanca, with its elitist clientele and the social media shaming that would follow any photos people posted if she was dropped off there like this, would be better than staying trapped here.

Socialites wouldn’t kill her—at least not if they had to actually touch her in this condition.

When she didn’t answer, he got in her face, glaring at her with hatred.

The violence etched in his features petrified her.

What had she or her family done to deserve this?

Her dad was an astute businessman, but Angel wasn’t aware of anyone he’d deliberately taken advantage of or mistreated.

Bert Daniels approached everyone with immaculate manners.

When she didn’t react, Viper snarled, “Lock the nasty bitch in her room. I don’t want her mess to attract any vermin here. Give her some pads. Don’t let her waste supplies. Make her beg for each one.”

Cyclone nodded and pulled Angel from the room. She kept her face turned toward the floor as she returned through the gauntlet of jeers. She didn’t want anyone to see the tears filling her eyes. They didn’t deserve the satisfaction.

This time, she welcomed the darkness when he locked her inside. She felt her way to the corner and sat down with her back against the wall. Dropping her head on her knees, she cried silent sobs of humiliation and despair. Maybe her father wouldn’t save her after all.

Whenever Cyclone returned to her room, Angel pushed away from the wall and knelt in the ring of light from the open door. She deliberately used the word Viper had demanded. “Please. Please let me have a pad, Cyclone. I’m begging you on my knees.”

“Here. Let me know if you need more,” he told her in a strangely tight voice as he thrust a filled sack at her.

“You brought me several?” she asked in disbelief as she accepted the stuffed bag.

“Tell me when you’re out,” he said and slammed the door shut. Something or someone had changed his mind.

Time passed slowly. Angel tried everything she could imagine to occupy her mind.

She ran multiplication tables in her head, recited the capitals of the states, plotted out fantasy vacations in her mind, and made a grocery list of the foods she planned on eating when she got out of there and tried to never think about anything to drink.

When Cyclone came to visit next, his attitude toward her had changed. He left water and food for her to eat. His earlier habit of tossing half on the ground for her to salvage from the dirt vanished. Angel hoped she might have an ally to help her escape.

A loud commotion shook Angel from drowsing in her corner.

Listening intently, she pinpointed the location to be coming from the right.

Cursing herself for not memorizing the hallways when they’d paraded her through the building, Angel ran to the door, straining to hear better.

Violent shouts resounded from both directions.

“Razor!” an urgent voice yelled from nearby. Almost silent thuds followed metallic pings as cursing filled the hallway.

Are those bullets? Angel raced from the door and flattened herself in the far corner.

She sniffed, smelling a burning scent. Something was on fire. Please don’t let me be burned alive in this hellhole. Angel wrapped her arms around herself and tried to think. She’d never found a way to get out. If the fire reached the door, she would die.

“Hey! Woman who’s kidnapped. Help me find you. Where are you?”

The man’s shouts pulled her from the corner. Angel yelled, but her voice was weak from a lack of water and use. She pounded on the door with all her might. If she broke the bones in her hand, the injury wouldn’t matter if she died.

“Stand back,” the man called.

She scurried to the other side of the room as quickly as possible.

Almost instantly, the door flew open. Her gaze fixed on the bearded man who had broken the lock on her door.

A leather vest. He was a biker, but the patch was different.

Not a Ravager. Without taking time to read the name, she glanced back at his face.

The expression of relief on his face morphed to totally pissed off as he scanned her.

He shook his head, pushing the anger from his expression.

“I bet you’d like to get out of here.” He ran forward to scoop her up in his arms. “Consider me your knight in shining armor. Hold your breath. It’s smoky in the hallway.”

The haze burned her eyes. Angel buried her head into the leather vest that stretched over his broad chest. Gratitude filled her heart. He’d gotten her out of that room. Even if she died in a spray of bullets or the fire, she wasn’t in that goddamn room.

Her rescuer juggled her in his arms. Her ears rang as a close-range gunshot sounded below her.

She clamped her teeth together to stop from screaming as a man tumbled to the ground ahead of them.

The green patch told her that a Ravager had lain in wait in the smoky corridor to kill them.

Her heart pounded as if it would explode at any minute.

“Almost there.”

When they burst out of the door, guns pointed at her from all the bikers waiting on their bikes. She shrank against the man holding her as she frantically checked that the Ravagers hadn’t followed them out of the doorway.

“Go, go, go,” her rescuer yelled hoarsely. His voice roughened from the smoke as he raced for the last riderless bike.

“Hold on the best you can,” the biker told her as he slid a leg over the bike and sat her in front of him. She’d never be strong enough to hold on behind him. His arms formed a cage around her before he started the engine and gunned the bike.