Page 24 of Crusher

I run to my truck, regretting leaving my keys and purse inside when a heavy hand jerks on my hair. Tears sting my eyes and my scalp burns as he slams my head against my driver’s side door. I fall to the ground with my skull throbbing and heat blooming across my cheek.

“That’s what you get, you fucking whore. And you got plenty more coming,” Scarface hisses.

I swallow down my pain and glare at him. When I see the blood leaking from his crooked nose, a delighted smirk turns up the corner of my mouth. “You might wanna try pinching the bridge of your nose, motherfucker. Helps with the bleeding.”

He growls before bending down to punch me across the face, knocking me unconscious.

A sharp thwack to my cheek jolts me awake, and I quickly find myself face-to-face with the men from the parking lot. My hands are secured behind my back while my ankles are bound together with coarse rope. It bites into my skin when I attempt to move, so I hold still, not wanting to cause myself anymore pain.

At least they gave me a chair to sit on, placed in the middle of a darkened, unfamiliar room that smells of mold and gasoline. If I had to guess, I’d say I’m in some kind of old warehouse. But Carnage is full of old warehouses, so finding out which one would be like looking for a squirrel with a purple tail.

“Oh, good. The little bitch is awake.” Snakebites taunts me, but I ignore him as he stares at me with his sinister eyes.

I realize I’m not blindfolded, which I guess doesn’t matter now since I’ve already seen their faces. But I find it a bit curious that I’ve seen their faces at all. Most kidnappers want to remain anonymous to avoid being caught.

Unless they’re planning on doing more than kidnapping…

Scarface pulls me from my thoughts when he steps forward, gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and forces me to look at him. “That’s a nasty bruise you got there, marking up that pretty face. Should probably keep your mouth shut if you want it to stay that pretty.”

I twist away from his grip and glare up at him.

His mouth splits into a cruel smile as he bends forward, leveling me with a wicked stare. “Where’s Crusher?”

I wasn’t expecting this question. I do my best to mask my surprise. Landon told me he had club business to handle. I don’t know what that entails, but I know I don’t need to find out. And neither does this asshole.

“Look, I barely know the man. So how the hell should I know where he is?”

“Because you’re his fucking whore.”

I try to force down the vomit churning in my gut with the overwhelming stench of stale cigarettes wafting off his hot breath. “Let me repeat myself. I am no one’s whore.” My gaze narrows as rage builds inside me. “I don’t know anything about the Satan’s Disciples except what everyone in this town already knows. That they’re better than the fucking Outlaws.”

His hand shoots out, yanking my hair and exposing my neck. He sniffs at my flesh, then drags the tip of his nasty tongue along my skin. “Tastes like a whore to me,” he sneers. “Those assholes think they’re so fucking high and mighty, like they run this goddamn town. They don’t run shit!” Spittle flies from his mouth, and I’m praying he doesn’t come any closer to my face. “We’re done fucking around with them. They thought that little stunt they pulled was enough to end Hell's Outlaws? Not even fucking close. It’s gonna take more than a cowardly shoot-out to take down our club.”

He jerks the strands of my hair, sending fire blazing across my scalp. Then, he licks at my sweat-dampened skin again, groaning in sick delight, and I want to rip his tongue out and shove it up his ass for touching me.

“Get the fuck away from me, you bastard.”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do.” He presses his mouth against mine so hard I feel my teeth cut into my lips. I try to move away, but his iron-grip on my hair keeps me in place. “In fact, why don’t you just sit here quietly and spread those pretty thighs for us like you did for Crusher.” Scarface laughs and Snakebites joins him.

At some point, I need to learn their road names, so I know who needs to be killed later.

The man with the lip piercings steps closer to us, his dick almost at eye level from my seated position. “For someone who claims to barely know him, it certainly didn’t look that way while he fucked you all over your house.” He grabs his lengthening cock through his jeans, and I blanch.

Did they watch us?

“So tell us again how you aren’t his little whore.” Scarface finally lets go of my hair before pushing my head away.

Then the other man squats beside me, whispering in my ear, “Was it good? Did he make you come like the filthy little slut you are?”

How dare he try to humiliate me! Fuck this guy. I’m not some wilting flower who takes shit from anyone and definitely not from these two biker rejects.

I jerk forward, desperately wishing I could get my hands around his throat. I contemplate head-butting him, but the thought flies out of my mind when his rough palm connects with my cheek, violently whipping my head to the side. My ear is ringing, blocking out all other sound, and my teeth ache from clacking together on impact. The taste of copper fills my mouth and I spit the accumulating blood onto the floor.

My breaths become more rapid as I settle my glare on the man with the piercings. “Touch me again and it’ll be the last thing you do,” I grit out through clenched teeth.

Another hard slap has white spots floating in my vision. Fury boils inside me, ready to spill over, but I don’t get my next words out before he smacks me three times in rapid succession, alternating cheeks. I suppose it could be worse; he could’ve punched me. But I can barely feel my face as his smug grin grows wider. Scarface stands beside him, looking far too pleased with himself, while his gaze rakes over my body.

The skin around my eyes feels tight and hot as a warm trickle of blood seeps from my nose. But I won’t stop fighting until they put me in the dirt. “You’re gonna pay for that, asshole.” I spit blood on the toe of his black leather boot.

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