Chapter 5 Willow
Willow
It feels like hours since Pans left me alone, but it’s hard to tell the time in this place with no windows. My body is weak, and despite the revelation that I’m locked up, I drift into a fitful sleep.
When I wake up, the first thing I see is the solid metal bars, and anger flares up in me.
Clenching my teeth against the pain, I swing my legs over the side of the bench. My feet hit the concrete floor, and I let out a hiss as pain jolts my leg.
I take a few deep breaths, assessing my body and where the pain points are. My ankle appears to be twisted as well as cut, and it hurts to put pressure on it.
But pain I can handle. What I can't handle is being locked up in a fucking cage.
I push myself off the bed and hobble across to the metal door.
Every step is an effort, and sweat pools on my forehead. My body is still weak and I probably shouldn't be out of bed, but fuck that. I shouldn't be in a cage either.
I’m trying to align the man who rescued me and gently tended to my wounds with the man who would lock me in a cage. One action so caring, the other so…weird.
My hands grasp the metal of the door and I pull, but it doesn’t give. I don't know what I was expecting. I saw him lock it.
I walk a circle of the cage checking out my surroundings. It's a square metal frame, reaching from the concrete floor to the ceiling above. There's a dark stain on the ground, and I shudder wondering about what has happened in here.
In one corner a low table has a plate of food, and I fall on it eagerly.
The bread of the sandwich is stale and the chicken filling slimy, but I’m too hungry to care. There’s a can of soda, and I drink it down in a couple of gulps.
My excursion has made me tired, and I drag myself back to the makeshift bed.
There's a metal trolley next to the bed with strips of my torn dress that Pans used for bandages. Next to the fabric strips is a pair of small scissors, and I slide them into the side of my underwear. Feeling better for having a weapon, even a small one, I collapse exhausted onto the bed.
The scissors dig into my side, and I adjust them so they’re flush against my hip and hidden in my underwear.
I'm wearing an oversized t-shirt that must be Pans’s. A thought comes unbidden into my mind of Pans’s hands on me as he peeled off my clothes.
I wonder what he thought of my body. I wonder if he liked what he saw. Heat flushes my cheeks, and confusion floods my brain. The man locked me up. I shouldn’t be thinking wicked thoughts about him.
Yet there’s something about the brooding, troubled biker that makes my skin heat and my insides go all gooey.
There's the sound of the basement door opening and voices on the stairs. I recognize Pans’s heavy tread alongside a lighter one.
A woman gasps.
"What the fuck?”
She rushes down the remaining steps, and I sit up on my elbows as she reaches the cage.
"What the fuck, Pans?"
The woman looks to be in her early thirties with her hair scraped back into a ponytail.
She’s wearing a small denim skirt and a tight black t-shirt, unafraid to show off her substantial body.
Under one arm she carries a canvas bag, and I’m pleased there’s a fresh loaf of bread poking out the top of it. I like her immediately.
The fact that she’s indignant on my behalf also helps.
The woman pulls at the door, and when it doesn't budge, she looks at Pans in disbelief.
"Why’s she locked up?”
Pans shrugs, and at least has the decency to look ashamed. “It's for her own protection," he mumbles.
But the woman isn't buying it. Pans opens the latch, and she pushes past him to get in.
She dumps her bag next to me and takes my hand in her plump one.
“I’m sorry he's got you locked up in here, sweetheart. I’m Gina.”
The concerned look on her face and the way she’s apologizing on Pans’s behalf gives me reassurance that at least someone else thinks this whole situation is fucked up.
"It's for her protection." But it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.
Gina gives him a stare that makes the hard-ass Pans look away chastised. She purses her lips together and turns her attention back to me.
"I'm going to change your dressings; I’ve got proper bandages and I brought fresh food and magazines.”
“I’ll change the dressings." Pans steps protectively to my side, practically nudging Gina out of the way.
She raises her eyebrows at him, as confused as I am.
“Fine, you do the top half, but this sprained ankle needs attention.”
Gina asks me a few questions about myself and the accident while Pans stays silent. I’m tired from my excursion and after a while I lie back and close my eyes, letting them fuss over me.
Pans is at the top end, undoing the bandage around my head. His fingertips brush my temples, and I feel the heat of his breath on my cheek as he leans over to inspect the wound. A delicious shiver goes down my spine, and my eyes flutter open.
He's leaning over me, so close I notice the amber flecks in his deep brown eyes that I missed the other night.
"How's it looking?” I ask.
His gaze flicks to mine, and a bolt of heat shoots straight between my legs. I clench my thighs, hoping that no one notices. It’s disconcerting that the man holding me captive also makes my body do things I can’t control.
"It's surface level."
He holds my gaze longer than feels necessary, and his lips are so close I wonder what they would taste like. My breathing gets shallow, and I start to squirm.
“Try to hold still, sweetheart,” Gina says gently.
Pans is still looking at me, and there’s a glint of triumph in his eyes. His lips curl up at the edges in a small smile as if he knows exactly what’s going on in my body and my mind.
“The cut’s okay, but the ankle’s swollen,” says Gina, completely oblivious to the weird tension that’s happening on this end. “You need to rest that."
"Good thing I'm not going anywhere."
Pans lips curl right up then, and his eyes crinkle. I like making him smile. He looks hot as a hard-ass but positively breathtaking wearing a grin.
"We've got bedrooms upstairs." Gina gives Pans a prod in the side to get his attention, and the weird moment between us is gone. “I’m sure Willow will be more comfortable in a proper bed."
"No." Pans’s look is back to hard-ass. “Willow stays down here.”
His eyes flick back to mine, and there's a fire in them. A bolt goes through me, and I suddenly realize there’s another reason Pans is keeping me locked up. He may say it’s for my protection, but the sadistic hottie likes me in a cage.
Gina sighs heavily. "At least keep the door unlocked," she says.
Pans looks away, but I notice he doesn't agree to anything.
“Can you get me some more ice?” she asks Pans.
She doesn't say anything as his heavy feet tread up the stairs, but once he's gone through the door, she takes my hand and her soft eyes focus on mine.
"I want you to know that you're safe here,” she says.
"The Underground Crows have given you their protection, and they won't let anything bad happen to you.
It's a good club, despite what you might think.” She gestures at my surroundings, “The men have heart and honor, and they would never ever hurt a woman. "
I want to believe her; I really do. She seems so sincere.
"Then why am I in a cage?"
Gina gives a sympathetic snort. "Because you had the misfortune of it being Pans who rescued you and not one of the decent men."
I lie back and process what she said. There's a darkness in Pans, I feel it. And yet I feel completely safe with him.
He wants to protect me. I believe that, but locking me in a cage is completely excessive. Despite what Gina says, I don’t know him or the MC.
My fingers go to the nail scissors tucked into the side of my panties. I’m indignant that I’m locked up, but something else is bubbling inside of me.
There's a part of me that finds it thrilling to be locked up in a cage. A part of me that doesn't mind being Pans’s captive.