Page 76 of Biker's Collar: Property of Scrap

It would be easier if I could drug her, but I don’t have the shit I need. I could get it from Anna if I wasn’t so worried about her asking too many questions or worse — getting in my way.

I wipe the table down with a white cloth and bleach before I take my shirt off. Not official medical procedure, but since I have to burn everything I’m wearing, I might as well save what I can. Darlene, impatient because I haven’t put her fucking show on, starts singing Dolly Parton from the back room.

She knows I hate Dolly Parton. Nothing against the woman personally. Just bad memories from my tour of duty. Bad fucking memories. It’s like there’s some small part of her that knows what I’m planning and wants to put me on edge.

My bloodlust is stronger than my shell shock today. It’s a nice day. A good day to die, a good day to be born…

I walk to the far end of the trailer and open the door to Darlene’s room. She rolls her eyes petulantly.

“Finally,” she says. “Took your ass long enough. I want the remote.”

“We’re gonna watch in the living room.”

Her eyes light up and she holds up her wrist so I can untie her.

“Yes. Fucking finally. I knew you would get over it.”

I untie her and help her to her feet. She isn’t steady. Good. That will make what I have to do a lot fucking easier.

Darlene feels a bit light, which makes me nervous. Turns out all Southpaw’s stupid ass lectures had a point to them. My online education said Darlene has to weigh a certain amount for the child to have a higher likelihood of survival.

“This Indian girl doesn’t care much for decoration. What are those fucking branches on the wall?”

Normally, I would answer her, but the last time I said something disrespectful in front of those branches, I had a nightmare. Oske called me a superstitious racist when I told her about my dreams, but I don’t insult her weird Native American crap anymore.

“Shut the hell up, Darlene.”

“You sure know how to make a woman wet.”

We walk down the long hall to the open concept living room, kitchen, and dining room where I have my tools prepared.

Darlene doesn’t notice the strange way I have everything laid out. Her eyes fixate on Oske’s television — which Ethan bought for her so he could watch NCAA Water Polo in 4K while he was staying here. He lost $2,000 on University of Wisconsin. Dumbass. What kind of idiot bets that much money on a swim team filled with black people?

Darlene gets a little too far out of reach with her excitement for the television and my hand juts out, wrapping around her wrist. Game time. I have to keep her cortisol as low as possible.

“Ruger!” She says.

“What?”

I try to make it sound believable.

“I want you,” I tell her. “You were right. But I want you the way I want you… Tied up on the dining table spread eagle for me.”

“Fuck, that’s dirty,” she says. I have her attention. I feel sick as she looks at me, but I can hide any emotion that I choose. Even disgust. Her eyes roam over my body with nothing but pure lust. “You want to take my pregnant pussy.”

“Yeah. That’s what I want. Take my shit back.”

Stupid fucking woman.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll let you do it then. Clothes off. You can tie me up. Maybe you’ll feel something if you see the way you’ve hurt me.”

It would be better if I forced out the lie that I didn’t want to hurt her. I can’t lie like that in front of God. I don’t want him looking that close when I start up sinning.

I watch Darlene undress. She has bruises all over her. Most are healed up. I never hit her torso. I stopped hitting her head once Gideon got through to me. I know they won’t leave me up here for long…

Southpaw is more predictable than he thinks. He’ll send Tanner next because Tanner won’t lose his cool around me the way Gideon does. Gideon makes it too fucking easy because he has no damn control over himself. I’m amazed he made it through the Rangers without getting his ass kicked out right after basic training.

Doc taught me to shut the fuck up and follow orders. Gideon puffs his chest out and acts all ignorant all the time.

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