Chapter 40
JENNA SLOANE
It’s another beautiful day. The car window is open, and I tap my long nails on the edge, listening to the gentle music, serenading my pleasure. A gentle breeze rips through the car, reminding me that life is worth living, and for a moment, everything in my life is perfect.
I adjust my shades, peering at my reflection in the rearview mirror, applying a little more color to my lips as I gaze with satisfaction on my appearance.
I’ve always been beautiful. It’s my superpower that has come in extremely useful over the years.
A movement by the gates diverts my attention from self-admiration, and my heart flutters.
There he is.
I straighten up and open the door, my heart racing as I extend my legs from the car, standing in the sunshine. A ready smile on my face.
He appears thinner, less confident, and exhausted. Prison pallor doesn’t suit this man, and I experience a moment’s revulsion. That soon passes when his scorching gaze collides with mine.
It sends shivers through my entire body; then again, he always did have that effect, and desire replaces revulsion on the turn of a promise.
Fuck, I’ve missed his wicked blend of depravity.
“Jenna.”
“Gideon.”
He approaches, one small bag in his hand that undoubtedly will be discarded into the nearest trash can.
This man deserves the finest that money can buy, and his closet is waiting at one of his mansions dotted around the country.
“It’s good to see you, baby.”
I lean back against the car, his gaze hungry, searching, demonic.
His cruel lips tighten in a smile, and I spread my legs on impact.
My heart races, my blood heats, and my pussy clenches.
Will it be here? Against the car, in full view of the guards. I fucking hope so.
He stops; the bag drops. His gaze rakes over me, leaving me panting.
I have dressed how he likes me. One simple dress, no underwear. The highest stilettos, a scarf tied around my neck.
He advances slowly, a wicked gleam in his eye, and as he reaches out, he slides the scarf from my neck and pulls it taut between his hands.
I am dripping for him, and he knows it, and he jerks his head toward the prison he just vacated.
“I’ll drive.”
I nod, disappointment flaring inside me that I don’t get to put on a show for the guards today.
He drops into the driver’s seat, and I take mine beside him. As he starts the engine, his voice is husky.
“There’s a motel not far from here.”
“That charges by the hour?”
There is hope in my voice.
“Of course.”
His knuckles tighten on the wheel.
“A dirty motel where the sheets are stained.”
A low groan escapes, and my fingers edge under my dress, and he snaps, “Hands where I can see them.”
“Fuck, Gideon. God how I’ve missed you.”
“I have a lot of aggression to deal with, Jenna.”
His warning only excites me.
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
He leans across and stuffs my scarf into my mouth, pushing it in deep, silencing my conversation.
“You don’t get to speak.” He hisses, and as he pulls away from the kerb, I hope the motel isn’t far.
He turns on the radio, and the low sound of music rumbles through the car, the roll of the tires on the road soothing.
The sun is beating through the window, and he flicks off the air conditioning; the temperature increasing with every mile we travel.
Sweat slides down my back, my breathing stifled by the fabric of the scarf.
My breathing is shallow, and my mind is focused on only one thing.
Gideon Fox.
The prison disappears from view, and as we round the corner, the dusty trail out of here stretches as far as the eye can see.
The state penitentiary is in the middle of fucking nowhere, and that is purely because it’s a high category one, and they don’t want their inmates escaping and surviving the journey out of here.
He pulls to a stop. I jerk forward, my back hitting the seat as I fall back.
His hand closes around my throat, his eyes flash, and I can’t breathe as he cuts off my air supply, his sneer of contempt all-encompassing.
“How many men have you fucked since I’ve been inside?”
He wrenches my hand in the air and pulls the scarf from my mouth.
“Twenty, thirty, three hundred?”
His eyes blaze and I gasp, “More like four hundred.”
His palm connects with my cheek, and the sting burns, causing my eyes to water.
“Get out.”
His low hiss has me scrambling for the door, and as I fall out, my knees connect with the dirt.
He rounds the car, grasping my hair, angling my head back as he unfastens his belt.
God, how I’ve missed him.
He pulls me up, shoving my face hard against the steel of the car and kicks my legs apart. As his cock slams into me from behind, I cry out, delirious, happiness filling me completely. This is what I’ve missed. His brutality.
He fucks me so hard my head hits the metal, punishing me, and yet rewarding me for my loyalty at the same time.
The belt fastens around my throat, and he pulls it taught, slamming into me from behind, reminding me who owns me.
His release is quick. I’m guessing nine months in a prison cell does that to a man, and as his cock throbs inside me, my orgasm hits me hard.
“Gideon!”
I call his name as it disappears into the mountains, and my vision blurs and my breathing stutters; oblivion is not far away.
It’s as if I am imagining it, but the low rumble of tires increases, and it takes me a moment to snap to attention.
Gideon hisses, “What the fuck is this?”
I slump onto the ground, my legs giving out on me, the belt tight against my throat. Gideon’s cum raining down between my legs.
The noise intensifies, my ears ring and he growls, “Get in the car, Jenna.”
My mind is swimming; what is he saying? He yells, “I said get in the fucking car, Jenna.”
I scramble to my feet, noting the thundercloud approaching, dust rising, noise intense.
My fingers scramble for the handle, and as I fall into the car, Gideon turns the engine, the sound of it roaring into life.
I have no time to belt up and the tires squeal as Gideon attempts to spin the car back in the direction we came from. I peer into the distance, noting the path is blocked, steel glinting in the sunshine, the threat ominous.
“What’s happening?”
My throat is tight; I can hardly breathe and I fumble for the buckle restricting my airway.
“Bikers. Fucking dirty bikers.” He hisses and then adds, “We’ll head back to the prison. They won’t try anything then.”
“Try anything.”
Hope flares inside me because what the actual fuck. I gaze at the sight bearing down on us. There must be fifty of the brutes heading our way.
My pussy clenches. Fuck, I hope they reach us before the prison because this is a fantasy I never knew I needed until now.
He presses his foot to the pedal, and the engine screams in protest, but it’s obvious it’s not up to the job of outrunning a Harley.
They pass in their droves, surrounding the car. Then a shot rings out, and I scream as the car comes to an abrupt stop.
“They shot out the fucking tires. What the hell is going on?”
Gideon yells and my heart races as I hit my head on the dash.
The door opens, strong hands pulling me out. Gideon is yelling, then a loud thump followed by a groan.
My arms are restricted behind my back and I face forward, noting Gideon flying through the air as a fist connects with his jaw. Blood spurts from his nose as he falls to the ground, and strangely, I can’t utter a sound. Fascination fully in charge of fear right now.
A heavy boot connects with his body, and a man reaches down and lifts him in the air, effortlessly, as if he is a feather.
“Gideon Fox.”
His voice is loaded with anger, and a prickle of apprehension slides down my back.
“Answer me.”
The biker snarls, slamming Gideon against the car, and his voice cracks as he hisses, “Yes.”
I gaze in horror as the man slams his head cruelly down on the bonnet, blood gushing from the wound as Gideon’s howl of pain disturbs the eerie silence.
Another man steps forward, as ferocious as the one before him, and pulls Gideon back, turning him to face him.
“This one is for my daughter, Cassandra King, you fucking piece of shit.”
A fist crunches against his jaw, blood seeping through his open mouth.
His daughter. Is this revenge for one of Gideon’s games? It certainly looks that way. My heart beats rapidly as another man steps forward.
“This one is from Imogen.”
Another kick to his stomach, Gideon howling as he bends double. Then a different man grabs him by the throat and tosses him hard back against the bonnet, the crack of bone merging with Gideon’s roar of pain.
“You miserable piece of shit. Aspen sends her disgust.”
He grabs Gideon by the hair and bangs his head back on the bonnet several times, blood seeping from the wounds in his skull.
The scream dies in my throat as their attention turns to me, and I note the glint of a gun in the sunshine, pointing at my head.
“Jenna Sloane.”
My throat dries. He advances, murderous intent in his eyes, and as he presses the barrel to my head, he snarls, “Think about the kids you ruined and the lives that were lost because of you. Picture their ghosts surrounding you now.”
He shoves the barrel into my mouth and twists it. “Suck on this, you miserable bitch.”
Tears stream from my eyes as he pulls the trigger, the empty chamber mocking me as I piss myself.
His low laugh crawls across my soul, and I am shoved forward, my knees bucking under the pressure.
The belt tightens around my neck. I can’t breathe and I stare into Gideon’s pain-filled eyes as he groans on the ground in front of me. My vision blurs, the ghosts of my sins crowding around me as they watch my passing with silent jubilation.
Gideon is staring at me, the life ebbing from his eyes. He’s slipping away, lying beaten and bloodied on a dirt track in the middle of nowhere. No mansions now, no control, no respect. Bleeding out of his broken bones, his only companion his sins.
My vision blurs; I give into the sensation. I’m floating. I’m free; it’s what I have craved for too long now. Free of him, this life, this pain. As I take my last breath, one name accompanies me to hell.
“Tell the devil the reaper sent you when you knock on the gates of hell, you disgusting piece of shit.”