Page 22 of Sabotage

Right now, I wish I were anywhere else but at the clubhouse. Not with these men taking a stance in the middle of the clubhouse. I know them. So does Nevaeh and Peyton. They’d met at least one of them. The same one now standing in the front of the group. All of them dressed in black suits, black shirts, and red ties. They’re known as the Bishop’s Disciples and do his bidding. I remember years ago hearing that. They referred themselves to this while gloating.

I never thought I’d see them again, but here they are. The very men Roy sold me to.

“Hello, little doves,” the man in front says, grinning as he steps forward. “I see you’re doing quite well, beautiful as ever, Ryann.”

A shiver courses down my spine, fear unlike any I’ve ever felt before. It’s clear in his eyes what he’s doing here. He’s here to take me.

“Who the fuck do you think you are comin’ in my club?”

I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of Viking’s booming voice. Slowly, I twist, keeping the men in my peripheral while looking to see Sabotage coming my way.

“Fawn, take Rocco and go upstairs,” Viking orders, not looking in our direction.

Sabotage gets to me and uses his body to shield me from the other men.

“Shyann, go with them,” War growls, coming in from behind the men alongside Dice, Rock, and Hydra.

“Okay,” Shyann whispers and follows behind Fawn, who doesn’t utter a word.

I stay behind Sabotage, pressing myself against his back, curling my fingers in his tee.

“Don’t hide, little dove.” The menacing voice chuckles. “Come on out here so we can see you.”

“Don’t you move, gorgeous,” Sabotage growls.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper for only him to hear. “Those men, they’re the ones Roy sold me to,” I utter, tightening my fingers in his shirt. “They call themselves the Bishop’s Disciples.”

“Right.” Sabotage nods.

“Ahh, little dove, you talking back there?” The monstrous man laughs outright. “Why don’t you come out here and share with the rest of us?”

“How about you cut the shit and explain to me what business you have here at my clubhouse?” Viking sneers. From the tone of his voice, I can hear just how pissed the other man is. As much as I’ve been around him, I don’t think I’ve ever heard him sound so furious.

I peek around Sabotage to see as the guy turns his attention to Viking. One of Sabotage’s hands reaches around to squeeze my waist.

“Let me introduce myself first. I’m Victor Serrano, and the men behind me are here to reclaim property that belongs to Bishop,” Victor announces. “The women you’re sheltering belong to him.”

“They don’t belong to anyone.” Ice sneers.

“On the contrary,” Victor tsks. “You see, a contract was signed by at least two of the women here, signing their bodies and lives over to Bishop to do as he pleases.”

I don’t remember signing anything. Then again, Roy had me so out of it back then, he kept me pretty lucid for a few days before giving me over to these men.

“You can’t own people,” Sabotage growls. “We’re not in the eighteen hundreds anymore. Slavery is illegal.”

“Maybe so, but this isn’t exactly a slave contract,” Victor remarks, shrugging his shoulders the slightest bit. “Let’s put down as a relinquishing of rights as you would do a child.”

“Bullshit,” War sneers. “How about you get to the actual point of you showing here.”

Victor grins and looks toward War, eyes flashing sinisterly.

“If you don’t start talking, then we’ll put your ass out like the trash you are,” Ice states, looking ready to commit murder.

“We’re not here for Peyton,” Victor says, “She wasn’t ever one of Bishop’s. Her sister did what she did because she was a greedy little whore who, in the end, got what she deserved. Bishop has no need for her. Same as with your sweet little Fawn . . .” I bite my lip as I look at Viking as he steps that much closer. “Those two do not matter to Bishop. He simply wants his property back in order to auction it off as he sees fit. There were quite a few bids coming through before you managed to crash the system.”

“So, you admit your little group was behind the auction to sell them and the hard drive,” Maverick states, having been silent.

Victor wags a finger before tipping it to his lips. “The hard drive,” he quips and motions to one of his other men. “To make things easier,” the guy steps forward, arm stretched outward with something in his hand. “We decided we’d give it back. The ones responsible for taking it in the first place weren’t supposed to, but they’d gotten greedy, and well, the boss doesn’t put up with outsiders getting greedy.” His gaze comes in my direction. “Or anyone taking what isn’t theirs.”

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