Chapter 12
Lauren
My body is humming, the emotions so high that my hands are trembling when he pulls up to a gas station to refill his tank.
I want to stay with him. That’s why when he goes inside to pay, I grab my bag and climb out.
I have no clue if he can see me walk away, but I get the distinct feeling that he doesn’t care at all.
It thrills me, the way he ignored me before dragging me out of the truck.
I know it’s fucked up. I know it’s wrong to keep putting myself in these situations, but I can’t seem to help it.
It feels like an addiction, like I’ve somehow managed to form a dependency on the man.
I love it as much as I hate it because I’ve prided myself on never needing anyone.
I’ve lived my life alone, and despite having this itch to see how far he’ll take things, I know I can’t stick around.
He’s giving me exactly what I crave, feeding into my darkness, and, although punishing in his actions, it’s exactly what I want.
I can’t keep it up. I can’t keep seeking him out, hoping he’ll give in to my demands.
I screamed and cried during what he was doing earlier. It’s my mind and body’s natural reaction to those types of situations, but I was also in heaven, enjoying the pleasure instead of getting off on the pain and brutality of it. The change is leaving me feeling off-kilter.
I watch as Angel leaves the gas station, pumps his gas, and drives off without so much as looking around for me. The indifference shouldn’t make my blood pump faster, but I don’t seem to be in control of such things these days.
We drove around for hours in silence after he picked me up on the side of the road, and as I walk down the street, I try not to wonder what it means that he came back and picked me up.
He doesn’t fucking care about me, that’s evident, but there has to be a reason.
Did he want to hurt me again, fuck me again?
If so, he made no overtures. He didn’t look at me a certain way or suggest I suck his dick. He didn’t pull up to a motel and demand I go inside and strip.
He watched the landscape, drove slowly past old buildings, and even drove through a trailer park without a word. When he drove down the same road where he took me against the hood of his truck, he didn’t even bother looking at the side of the road where it happened.
But he picked me back up. It means something even if I refuse to listen to that part of my head.
The bikes parked outside of Jake’s, the local bar, should make me turn around and leave.
This is the Cerberus Club’s hangout. If they’re home from work, this is where the single men and Slick, the only single woman in the club, choose to hangout.
They go trolling for company, although trolling isn’t the best way to describe it.
The women in town flock to this place once the guys show up.
Women in town are either looking for a wild night or trying to figure out a way to have a permanent spot at the clubhouse.
Landing a Cerberus man means devotion, security, family. The women have declared themselves lucky to end up with an enduring man fawning over them are in search of such things. It all makes my skin crawl.
Someone building you up only to let you down later, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, is worse than a man who shows you his dark side right from the beginning.
I nod at the bartender as I step inside, taking a spot at the bar.
As I guessed, the women in the bar are either chatting with the Cerberus men or are drooling from afar.
I’ve noticed many of the men looking at Slick like they want to approach but are too intimidated by her to make it happen. I’ve overheard some men trash talking her, expecting women to be weaker, less formidable.
These are the type of men that hurt women for fun.
They like to overpower and dominate, but carry around so much little dick energy that they don’t register but a blip on my radar.
They’re the ones pretending. They’re nothing like Angel who has proven more than once in the last two days that he doesn’t have to growl to have actual teeth.
I resist lifting my fingers to the bruise on my neck as Drake, the bartender, approaches.
“Good to see you again. What can I get you?”
I take a quick look around the bar, wondering if I’m up for putting myself in a dangerous situation tonight or not.
What would an attacker think if they pulled my jeans down and found another man’s dried cum still marking my skin?
Would he wipe it away? The thought of that happening is unnerving.
“Just a Coke, please,” I tell Drake with a quick smile.
He steps away to make my drink, grinning at me when he comes back.
“Not going to join your friends tonight?”
I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know he’s talking about the Cerberus guys.
I shake my head. “Looking for a different type of trouble tonight.”
He chuckles as I wink at him before he walks away to help another customer.
The guys and Slick don’t watch me the same way that the committed people at the clubhouse do.
They’re less judgmental, having their own kinks and ways to blow off steam.
The ones in relationships are the ones I catch following me across the room.
They can’t believe the things I’ve done in my life and called it work.
They can’t wrap their heads around the situations I’ve put myself in, but I’m not theirs to judge.
“You’ve been gone for a few days.”
I look over, giving Aro a genuine smile. The man flirts with everyone he deems available, and I’m no exception, but he never pushes. He legitimately thinks he’s God’s gift to women and if a woman doesn’t throw themselves at him, they’re not worth his time.
I’m not in the business of placating men or begging to be touched.
Force and aggression are my cup of tea, and this man couldn’t offer me that. He’s the type that will lie back on the bed with his hands clasped behind his head while a woman works hard to get him off. There would be no choking or harsh touching.
He’s more of the good girl, you’re doing a great job sort, whereas I need to be called filthy names and have my head pushed down on a dick.
I smile back at the man, doing my best not to let thoughts of Angel and what happened earlier seep in.
“I’ve been busy,” I tell him, knowing he’s as unlikely to ask what I’ve been up to as I am to ask what he does while working.
“We’ve been worried about you. Didn’t know if that guy—”
“I haven’t seen him since he dropped me off that night,” I lie, instead of challenging him about his worry.
No one has called my cell phone or sent a text asking if I’m okay. He’s placating me. Actions and words are two very different things.
He nods, his eyes searching mine for a long moment before Drake sets two pitchers of beer in front of him.
“You’re more than welcome to join us,” he says before walking away.
I don’t have a real problem with the club.
Honestly, if those people want to live in a dream world, let them.
I’m not shocked that Thumper ended up there.
He was never as dangerous as I tried to convince myself he was.
He was always checking in, pulling his hands back before he could do much damage.
He’s the man that made me realize I had to seek out men that honestly did hate me instead of just pretending.
I’m pretty sure that new woman of his wouldn’t appreciate knowing he was paramount in my decision to go undercover in sex trafficking circles.
Two men sitting a little further down the bar draw my attention. I’m able to listen in on their conversation without them knowing, and it makes me want to laugh.
They’re both trying to hype the other up to come speak to me, something they’d probably never have the courage to do if it weren’t for the alcohol they’ve been drinking.
Maybe some women would be impressed, but that’s the opposite way I feel when the teasing they’re doing to each other turns sexual. I doubt either of them could even find the clit despite one’s declaration to being able to make me scream his name.
This is exactly what I mean by little dick energy. A man who knows how to please a woman, even in the traditional sense—which is never something I’m looking for—doesn’t have to convince himself that approaching a woman he’s interested in is a good idea.
He walks up and takes his shot.
This is something I can give the men in Cerberus kudos for. They don’t waver. They don’t second-guess. They are the ultimate definition of big dick energy.
Instead of letting the guys beside me build anymore courage, I turn my head and glare at them, giving them a look that doesn’t leave any room for discussion.
Neither of them has a chance, and they’d be fools to even try.
I’m not above hurting a guy’s feelings. I’m not politically correct.
I’m not going to giggle, sweep a lock of hair behind my ear and tell them thanks but no thanks.
It’s not my style. I don’t have it in me.
One guy darts his eyes away as quickly as he can. The other lets his gaze linger before his throat works on a rough swallow. Suddenly, his beer becomes more interesting than me.
“Put your teeth away,” Drake says as he approaches. “Do you need another Coke?”
I grin at him. He isn’t intimidated by me, but as I look him up and down, I know he’s also not capable of giving me what I need.
I have no doubt the man could please a woman, or a man, considering I’ve seen him flirt relentlessly with both, but he’s not the kind of thrill I’m looking for.
Coming from pleasure and coming from force are two very different things. One I have no interest in and the other I seek out to my own detriment, which is kind of the entire point.
“I’m good,” I tell him as I pull a five from my pocket and drop it on the bar.
I do my best to ignore the breeze on my lower belly from my busted zipper. Thinking of it makes me think of him, and as I walked away tonight, I told myself I’d leave that entire situation alone.
“Need me to call you a cab?”
I huff. “I had a Coke.”
“It’s dangerous out there,” he counters. “Maybe one of the guys can give you a ride back to the clubhouse.”
I narrow my eyes at him. I’ve hung out here with Cerberus before.
I’ve arrived with them and left with them, but I’ve never had a conversation with Drake about any of it.
He’s either assuming I’ve been staying there, just going off what he has seen, or someone is talking about me.
The hairs on my arms stand up with the thought.
I fucking hate my name in other peoples’ mouths.
“I’ll be fine,” I say as I stand.
I don’t bother looking back at the table of Cerberus guys before walking back outside.
I don’t know what bothers me more. Is it that he assumed I’d want to leave with Cerberus or that I can’t handle myself in the damn dark alone?
I focus on those two things as I walk toward one of the motels in town because thinking of what my head wants to focus on isn’t an option.
I’m done with Angel. He gave me what I needed… twice… and that’s enough.
I shoot off another text to Alan, but at this point, I’ve gotten used to those going unread.
I can’t ask for another handler because it would bring up too many questions.
Alan gives me a little more leeway than I imagine anyone else in the Bureau would.
He knows the dangers I put myself in, but he also doesn’t question me.
He knows it would be pointless, so he no longer bothers to warn me.
He gives me the facts about the case and lets me make my own choices on how to handle those situations.
He’s willing to leave certain things out of reports, and I’m grateful to him for it.
I’d have to undergo another round of psychological testing if they knew what I really go through.
Condoning the assault of an agent isn’t something the FBI would ever want to be accused of, so going above Alan’s head isn’t going to happen, and he damn well knows it.
The guy behind the desk at the fleabag hotel leers at me like I’m fresh meat as I pay for my room. But when I stare back at him, he cowers and apologizes.
Since when did men become such pussies?
I’m agitated, irritated beyond measure, as I lock the door to my room behind me.
Despite knowing I’ll be more exhausted in the morning than I am now, I force myself into the shower before climbing between the itchy sheets.
Maybe tomorrow I can head out of town. A trip back to Kansas may be in order. It’s been a very long time since I visited my hometown. My skin starts to itch again with thinking of the pain that place causes me.
It may be exactly what I need to get back on an even keel.