Page 6 of Throttle

Then I hear the distinct raspy voice of the man who attacked me at my condo. “Search the fucking woods. The little cunt can’t have gotten far.”

Their running footsteps fade in the distance, but I cautiously wait a few more minutes before making my move. Tears, blood, smeared makeup, and sweat coat my face, so I use my dirty blouse to wipe my eyes and allow me to see. I need to get out of here—wherever the fuck here is—and call for help before they come back and find me.

Reaching inside my purse, I retrieve my phone to find I have no service. You gotta be kidding me!

I feel around the trunk, my fingers grazing along the roof until I reach the plastic release handle and tug it hard. The unmistakable click of the trunk opening sends waves of relief through my body. Peeking out into the night, I determine the area is clear and climb down from the car, remaining low to the ground. Maybe I’ll get cell service by the main road, but I need to stay hidden.

Moving as quickly as I can, I keep to the edge of the field, remembering I saw a gas station maybe a mile back. Pain radiates through me and threatens to stop me in my tracks. But I refuse to die here, not at the hands of Tony Bertelli’s thugs. Spotting the gas station up ahead, I rush toward it as I begin to shake from my sobs. I hide behind a filthy dumpster, ensuring my location is concealed before I pull my phone from my purse. I send up a silent prayer of gratitude when I see I finally have cell service.

Lucien picks up on the second ring. “Hey, kiddo, you could’ve just?—”

My voice is frantic, and I’m practically wailing now. “Please, please! I need you! You have to come!” Everything I’ve been forcing down and pushing out of my mind comes rushing back, and it’s almost too much. Panic begins to set in.

“Sienna, what’s wrong? Where are you?” Lucien sounds as terrified as I am, and I love him a bit more because of it.

My gaze darts around the empty parking lot as I explain what I see. He’s lived here his whole life, and it doesn’t take long for him to recognize the location I describe.

“Don’t you move, honey. I’m on my way. Just hang on for me, kiddo. Hang on.” He’s distraught as he disconnects the call, but I know it’s for the best, so I can keep hiding until he finds me.

It feels like an eternity, but I’m sure it’s only been ten minutes or so. Then, I see approaching headlights, and I crouch lower to the ground, listening for the car to pull up so I can confirm its owner. Lucien hisses my name, and I emerge from behind the dumpster, running straight into his open arms. He tugs me into a tight hug that hurts from my injuries, but I don’t care as I let his familiar embrace soothe me. He pulls back, looking me over to assess my condition, and his face twists with anguish.

“Are you alright? What—” His words halt when he sees my battered face.

He’s hot and seething, with rage swirling in his eyes. Without another word, he escorts me to the passenger side of his car and carefully helps me into the seat. Walking around the front, he joins me inside, then quietly puts on his seat belt and speeds off.

We ride in silence, the pounding in my head the only thing to keep me company. Where am I supposed to go now? With Tony’s men after me? There’s no way I can return home, and I’d never stay at Lucien’s, putting him at risk too. Worry consumes me as exhaustion begins to take over.

Lucien pulls out his phone, selecting a contact from his favorites list, before raising the device to his ear. “Venom,” he greets the person on the other end of the line.

Venom? Is that a real name? Who calls their child Venom?

“I’m on my way with a special guest. A very special guest. I’ll tell you everything once we arrive.” He listens for a few moments, showing no emotion on his face. “Fine. I’ll see you soon.” Then Lucien disconnects the call and places his phone back into his pocket.

I look at him curiously. “What was that about? Who was that?” There’s a dull ache on the side of my face from the attack and the crash. But I do my best to ignore it while I seek some answers.

“A good friend of mine… and someone who can protect you from criminals like Tony Bertelli.”

We drive a few more miles, turning down back roads, until we come across a large brick building with a tall gate. The place reminds me of a warehouse, but it’s updated and modern-looking. A crowd of men stands out front, huddled amongst each other. They’re all dressed similarly in black leather vests, well-worn jeans, and black boots. When Lucien and I approach the main entrance, and I’m close enough to one of the men at the gate, I catch a glimpse of the emblem embroidered on his back.

Satan’s Disciples MC.

I gasp, and my head whips in Lucien’s direction. This man, who’s like a father to me, has brought me to the clubhouse of Carnage’s most notorious motorcycle club.

What the hell was he thinking?

5

THROTTLE

“Get your ass up.” Country slaps my arm, but I don’t move.

What time is it?

I groan into the pillow, groggy from sleep. “For what?”

“Venom has a job for you.”

That’s all I need to hear before I get my ass moving. With what I do for the club, it isn’t unusual for me to be woken up in the dead of night to handle messy situations. My job is protection and security. Along with Crusher and Maverick, I keep the club, its members, and all known associates safe.

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