Page 11 of Tormented By Regret

"What the fuck?" I managed to say before he grabbed me around the waist and lifted me up over his shoulder.

"Let me go!" I screamed and kicked out, but nothing made him flinch. He only grabbed my thigh tighter as he began to make his way out the door.

“Bandit grab the gun, we may need it with this one.” I saw a huge shadow run across the room as I continued to punch at the Powertrain’s back.

"Where are you taking me? My father will kill you!"

"I highly doubt that." He murmured in that rich deep tone of his.

"Well, if he doesn't my brother will."

"That, I don't doubt," he grunted as I managed to scratch at his head.

I froze, as I felt the sound smack of his hand against my ass. I was wearing jean shorts and they’d ridden up high enough that his hand had made contact with skin.

"Who the hell do you think you are!" I screamed bloody murder as he fought to keep a hold of me.

He was heading toward the strip at the back of the grounds. How did he even know about this place? Only…

It finally dawned on me that my brother had been watching me this entire time, and that only angered me even more. But I also knew I didn't stand a chance. Not only was Powertrain built like a fucking truck, he held a vice grip on me that felt like steel. I was screwed but it didn't stop me from fighting him. I scratched his head, punched at his kidneys, and even managed to bite his shoulder. I even gripped the rail as he carried me up the ladder, but the man with him, a big burly guy built like Fort Knox, slipped my hand away and patted my head as if I were a dog. He followed the Bastard into the private jet, smiling at me reassuringly.

“I sure wish this hadn’t turned out this way,” he murmured as Powertrain finally set me down.

Well, he practically threw me into the chair. I could see both of them more clearly under the light. The man with him, I think he’d called him Bandit, had sandy blonde hair and wore a blue tacky Hawaiian style shirt. Powertrain was different. He was a lot more handsome than I’d taken him for earlier. He had a dark beard that lined a chiseled jawline, dark coffee brown eyes whose brow furrowed when he got pissed, a reaction that I seemed to induce quite frequently since we met. He wore a black tank, his RBMC vest over it. His patch sewn on front read Treasurer and I wondered why he’d been chosen to come get me. His chest and arms were inked in intricate tattoos. Ones that I wanted a deeper look at as I questioned their story. I found that his calloused hands were rough to the touch, and they excited me in ways that made me curious about the man.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he said as Bandit held my hands back and pressed against the seat.

“Bandit, grab that will ya.” He instructed, leaning into me to hold me down while we waited on Bandit to return.

“You’re going to pay for this, I swear it.” I cursed into his ear, trying not to inhale his rich fragrance or the deep scent of leather that lingered from his skin.

"This is your fault. All you had to do was come peacefully. You’re the one who wanted to make things difficult."

I sneered, attempting to bite his nose off when he got close, but I regretted that move as he grabbed my face and roughly shoved it back against the chair.

"I'll kill you both!" I screamed while Bandit wrapped bungee cords around my small frame. Bungee cords!

"You're hurting me." I snarled at him.

"Good." His eyes met mine. A dark, chocolate gaze that made me hesitate. "Payback's a bitch."

"Aaargh," I half snarled, half screamed.

"She's a vicious one," Bandit seemed to agree with a prior statement I hadn’t been privy to.

"Shut up!" I yelled at him.

He raised his hands and walked down the aisle of seats. "We're flying out in five!" He yelled back at us before slamming the cockpit door shut.

Powertrain gripped the seat and leaned into me, so he was at my eye level, his mouth only fragments of an inch from mine. That steely gaze bore into me and for a brief second, I wondered what he tasted like.

"Next time you point a gun at me, you better shoot me."

“Believe me, next time I’m not hesitating.”

“You can blame your brother for this,” he said, moving into the chair facing me.

"I swear to God I'm going to rip his eyes out."

---