Page 57 of Phantom Riders MC: Hawk

“I like golden showers, baby.”

I couldn’t believe he’d said that, and I stopped breathing. Thinking fast I added, “That’s not ah, all I need to, ah, do.” I wasn’t faking the embarrassment, and I’m pretty sure my cheeks were red. I had to lower my gaze though, in case Keg saw through my lie. “Please, I have to go bad.” I was thinking about the time I had left before Dane arrived.

Grunting, Keg grabbed me by the rope around my wrists and started to drag me toward the house. He bent at the front door, lifted the matt and removed a key. Once inside we looked around until we found the bathroom. “Make it quick, I want to fuck you good before your ex gets here. I’ll make it a good memory to take to your grave,” he laughed.

Bastard! But I held in my anger because I wanted him to drop his guard. “Can you please?” I held out my hands, glancing down again so that he couldn’t read my eyes. I purposely kept my tone sad and quiet, as if resigned to my fate.

Keg wasn’t gentle and didn’t care that the knife he used to cut through the rope nicked my wrist. I ignored the sting of pain, the blood rapidly gathering along the thin line, and turned to enter the bathroom. He started to prevent me from closing the door when his phone rang again. With a curse he reached for it, temporarily forgetting about me.

I spied the window immediately, and looked back at Keg. He was half turned away from me, but not enough that anything I did would go unnoticed. I bit my bottom lip, sensing that it was then or never. Once I put my plan into motion I knew that I’d have to act fast. The trouble was I didn’t have a plan. I couldn’t over power him, and the window I had hoped to make my escape from was too far away, he’d catch me before I had a chance to open it.

The conversation was winding down, I could tell. Just as I heard Keg mumble, “Later, man,” I panicked and rushed him, throwing all my weight against him. I could tell by his grunt that I’d caught him unaware and the sound of him crashing into furniture and hitting the floor was music to my ears. He swore angrily, but I didn’t wait to gauge what kind of time I had. I spun around, slammed the bathroom door, and locked it.

I ran to the window and opened it at the same time that I heard the doorknob rattle. Constant swearing from the other side of the door speeded me up as I pushed out the screen and hoisted myself up onto the ledge. The bathroom door was kicked in just as I went through the window. I landed on the ground and was on my feet and running by the time Keg reached the window.

I knew that because he threatened, “Stop or I’ll shoot!”

I didn’t stop.

“Bitch!”

Even in my panic I knew that he wouldn’t kill me, not if he wanted his money, and because he’d been ordered to bring me in alive. He must have figured that I realized that, too, when I didn’t stop. I didn’t know what he was doing after that, because I just ran. I knew one thing, though, if he caught up to me, he was going to hurt me. I recalled his earlier remark that he’d been ordered to deliver me alive, but not in any specific condition. Maybe that’s why what happened next didn’t surprise me as much as it should have.

A shot rang out. I screamed and tumbled to the ground, hitting it hard. The pain was excruciating. It felt like someone was branding me by holding a hot iron to my leg. I rolled onto my back to see Keg walking up to me.

“I told you, you fucking bitch!” He was beyond livid, while I felt a second of gratification at the sight of the red scrape mark on his face. He must have hit something during his fall.

His hand wrapped around my arm, squeezing painfully as he hauled me to my feet, uncaring that he’d just shot me. I cried out and nearly collapsed when I made the mistake of putting all my weight onto my leg. The bullet had hit me on the outside of my upper thigh, and I could feel blood running down my leg inside my jeans. The distant buzz of an approaching plane drew both our attention to the sky.

Oh, shit! Dane! Pure fear made me plead, “Please, Keg. Don’t do this!” My stomach began to churn with sickening dread at seeing Dane again.

Keg’s rough laugh held no humor. “You got two million bucks?” he snarled, dragging me toward the house. “I don’t even have time to give you a good fuck, now,” he grumbled in a disappointed tone.

Two million dollars! I didn’t even have time to try and comprehend that Dane was that wealthy. I stumbled and cried out when Keg’s rough movements jarred my leg. Swearing, he jerked me even harder, as if it were his mission to cause me as much pain as he could. He wasn’t happy unless I was crying out. Just as we reached the front door, I heard the small plane touch down.

My heart was pounding wildly in a combination of pain and fear, and I was beginning to feel weak, as if I might pass out, whether from anxiety or loss of blood. Keg didn’t seem to care that we were tracking it through the house. When we reached the living room I had time to take in the overturned chair and broken glass before I was thrown toward the couch. I collapsed onto it with a cry.

I leaned back and closed my eyes.

****

“Take her pants off.”

My eyes flew open. I must have passed out. The sound of Dane’s voice was as sharp and alerting as any alarm. I tried to sit up straight, crying out in pain. All I could do was watch one of his men moving toward me. I lifted an arm to try and stop him from touching me.

“No—”

“Darling, you’ve been shot. I need to see what kind of damage this--” He shot Keg a scathing look, “--Idiot has done.”

Why was he talking to me like that, as if he cared? I frowned, trying to comprehend, but all I could think about was the pain in my leg. In the end there was nothing I could do. Under the watchful eyes of Keg, Dane, and two other men, my jeans were stripped from me, and I was left in a tiny thong that barely covered my sex. The same man who’d removed my jeans leaned forward to examine my wound. I flinched away from him with a whimper as he prodded it.

Still sitting next to me, he glanced up at Dane. “Deep flesh wound, but nothing serious.”

“Clean her up,” Dane ordered.

I assumed the man working on my leg had some kind of first aid training because he worked quickly and efficiently, first washing the blood away. It hurt like hell when he doused the wound with disinfectant, but there was minor relief with the cooling cream he smeared into it. I managed to get a view of my leg before he covered it with gauze. The bullet had plowed a four-inch path across my thigh, taking with it a swath of skin and meat and leaving what looked like a narrow, but fairly deep, gorge. It was bigger than I anticipated, wide in the center and tapering at both ends.

Dane didn’t speak again until his man got up and moved away from me. “You shouldn’t have tried to run, sweetheart, now you’ll have a scar.”

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