Page 31 of Crusher

I’m a prisoner awaiting my sentencing.

The men outside my room don’t even try to be quiet as they chatter about their plans. The mayor’s name pops up now and then, piquing my interest.

“Didn’t know Prescott had a thing for redheads,” one of my captors declares. I strain to listen to the muffled voices, but the ringing in my ears makes it difficult to hear.

“Yeah, he likes testing out the merchandise before we ship 'em out. I don’t know why he’s allowed and we’re not. Poor bitches have no idea how fucked up that man is,” another guy says.

“As long as he keeps his mouth shut about our operation here, he can sample whatever the fuck he likes.”

My stomach churns, disgust eating away at my insides.

“New shipment is on the way. Looking at about fifteen to twenty coming in, plus the new ones we took.” The first man speaks up again, but he leaves out crucial details for me to know exactly what he’s talking about.

“What a shame that Disciple bitch has to go. Maybe I should have a turn with her before we hand her over. Might even record me fucking her dirty little cunt and send it to Crusher,” he sneers, and I let out a sharp breath, unease stirring in my chest. “It’d serve that cocksucker right. That sick bastard gets off on torturing our brothers. Maybe their enforcer should get a taste of his own medicine.”

“You know you can’t damage the goods. Ratchet’ll have your ass,” the second man adds.

I bite my tongue to keep from cursing. Not only are there more women being held, but these men are planning on handing us all over to someone else to go who knows where. We’re being trafficked and there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my mind to quiet and my racing heart to calm. Before these men can get their hands on me again, I have to figure out how the hell I’m going to get out of here. It feels like I’ve been here for days, even though I’m sure that can’t be true. But without a window in this musty old room, it’s difficult to determine if it’s night or day.

I really wish Landon would come save me right about now.

The thought unnerves me. I hate how much my mind constantly falls to him, but I haven’t been able to get him out of my head for weeks and weeks. And, to be honest, perhaps I don’t want to. But I’ve no time to think about that right now. I need to keep my wits about me so I can get the fuck out of here.

Unfortunately, my battered body has different plans and the repeated blows to the head have me slipping in and out of consciousness. That’s when the ghost of his desire-filled kisses and passionate embrace warms me against this cold pipe and hard ground. But I’ve never relied on anyone to rescue me, so why would I change that now?

Because he’s different and you’re falling for him.

Out of all the men I’ve had in my life, Landon is the only one to affect me like this. It’s like he clouds over every sensible part of me, disrupting my thoughts and impacting my actions. No matter how many times I try to push him away, he keeps coming back like a damn stray dog. Over and over again until he weakens my walls and I can’t escape him. Until I crave him and demand more.

The truth is he eases the fire inside me that seems to constantly burn. I’ve been carrying the weight of my family on my shoulders for so long that it’s overshadowed my own wants and needs, burying them so deep I’m not even sure what they are anymore. He makes me vulnerable and that scares me more than anything in the world.

When my parents died, I let my life revolve around Kyle so I didn’t have to grieve. Yes, I was heartbroken, but I forced myself to keep going, keep pushing, using my kid brother as a crutch so I didn’t have to feel the pain I was experiencing.

It was hard in the beginning, working day and night to provide for us, but I don’t regret anything I’ve done. However, I can admit that somewhere along the way, I forgot who I am. I pushed all my feelings down until I became numb and started running on autopilot. I forgot what it meant to be Sadie, to like going to parties and having fun and hanging out with friends. All the normal things someone my age would do.

But the moment I met Landon, I let go for the first time in a long time. He made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years. He made me forget about all the things I was responsible for, all my obligations. And it was fun and sexy and freeing. And it scared the fuck out of me, because I didn’t think I should feel like that, not with everything I had on my plate.

Yet, for a brief moment, I felt like I had someone who wanted to share some of my burden with me. A man who wanted to make me laugh and forget the pain. But he was dangerous because he made me reckless and wild. So, of course, I ran away, not sure how to process the emotions I was experiencing. If that was how he made me feel after one night, then I was sure he’d destroy me if I only gave him enough time to do it. So I left in the middle of the night, pretended to despise him, and never told him the truth about why I walked out on him.

Doesn’t mean I haven’t thought about what might have been if I had stayed. If, for once, I let someone in besides Tessa and Kyle. I’m an expert at shutting people out, especially when they get too close, because I can’t afford the disappointment that comes after they leave. But Landon is different and I want to stop running. He’s a protective dangerous man who, for whatever reason, is infatuated with me, and I can’t let fear keep making me run away. Besides, there’re not too many men who can handle my shit and my eight-foot-tall attitude. Guess it takes an MC enforcer to match my energy, so I ought to see if this one can keep up.

But I can’t do that if I’m sold off to human trafficking scum, or worse, if I’m dead. And I refuse to die in some dingy warehouse or wherever the fuck I am.

I’ll fight like hell to get out of here.

My declaration shoots a spark of adrenaline through me, and I begin to search my surroundings for anything I can use to escape. Looks like there’s a closet in the corner of the room, but anything in there won’t do me any good while I’m tied to this stupid old pipe.

I glance down at the stained mattress on the floor beside me and shift my body so I can feel along the edge of it to find something I can get my hands on. I’m hoping there’s an exposed metal spring, so I trail my fingers slowly to avoid any more injuries. I’m beat up enough. I don’t need to slice open my hand and catch some kind of nasty infection from this cesspool of a room. I doubt they clean and sterilize the place between kidnapping victims.

I search as far as my restrained hands can reach, without much luck. There’s nothing useful from the mattress to cut the rope. But I let out a sigh of relief when I feel along the water pipe behind me and find a steel bolt sticking out about an inch. I lean forward, angling my wrists and ignoring the pain that shoots up my arms as I saw my restraints against the rusty metal. My movements are frantic as desperation creeps in, and I accidentally cut my wrist in the process. A coppery scent fills my nose and a viscous liquid coats my hands as blood spills down to my fingers. My grip becomes weak and slippery as my wrist throbs, but I’m determined to keep going until I’m freed from the rope.

Finally, something snaps, and I use my blood to wiggle the restraints loose, the fibrous material ripping at my wound while I choke back a cry of pain. My hands are free and tears swim in my eyes, but I don’t waste time as I claw at the tight coils securing my ankles. Within minutes, I’m on my feet but feeling dizzy and faint. I also haven’t had food or water since I was taken, but I’ve got to find the energy to keep moving.

I tiptoe to the edge of the room, my back pressed against the wall to stay out of sight from my kidnappers’ view. So far, there’s only been one guy who comes in and taunts me, but I know there’s at least two of them out there. The next time that shit-talking bastard enters the room, I’ll be ready to attack him with everything I’ve got so I can get the hell out of here.

If I can find something to knock him out, maybe I can take his gun and shoot them both dead. I’m not the greatest marksman, but I know my way around a gun. I’m grateful my dad made damn sure I could take care of myself before he died. I think I can handle two idiot bikers okay. But if there are any more of them out there…

---