Page 20 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

“I’m not.”

Zayna continues, still outraged. “You’re not an idiot. You’ve heard of the KKK.”

“That’s what it stands for?”

“I’m going to search this house for robes. I don’t care how much you play dumb,” Zayna mutters.

“Jesus…”

I’ll needJesus to deal with this woman. I can tell. From the back chat, to the way she smiled when I put my hands around her neck… My head is too foggy and confused with concerns about Eden. I’m missing something about this woman. Something big.

There’ssomething wrong with her crazy ass and you know it.

She just keeps staring.I hate that I’m so fascinated with her. If it weren’t for that, I would have smacked her around a little,maybe. I would have done something reckless. I would have done something that would absolutely violate this woman. I’m trying to stay strong. Engage her little arguments, do what I can to get her naked with at the very least her consent.

But the more she pushes, the more I wonder if it’s just not meant to be.

“What do you want me to say?” I ask her. My heart starts pounding a disturbing thrum against my chest. I want to do something right – just to get her ass naked in the shower. Just to see what she looks like with that dark skin… Is it the same color all over? And what about her tits and ass…

Unfortunately, Zayna has a good fucking read of my mind. Goddamn it.

“I’m not showing my ass to a racist,” Zayna says. She’s dull. Emotionless. But I can tell she means it and she might claw my fucking eyes out if I try anything. Hm.

“What about your tits?” I ask. “Can I see those?”

I try to ask her in a calm manner to get my way. But that doesn’t work either. Turning away from violence appears to be a mistake already.

“I’ll smack you,” Zayna says. She smiles, like she wants to. Like she’s excited that she might get the chance.

Hm.No way this woman gets a one-up on me. I shrug my shoulders, like I couldn’t care less about seeing her ass naked.

“Fine,” I tell her. “I’ll set out some clothes for you. Towels in the bathroom closet. Take your damn shower. I’ll leave your ass alone. For now.”

Chapter Nine

Zayna

I’m stuck in a murder cabin with a racist killer. I know race didn’t motivate his previous murder, but it could motivate his next one. I need to use my shower to think. To calm the fuck down. To clear my mind. Once I close the door, Ruger knocks on it.

“I’ll wait for you right here.”

“No need!” I yell back, feeling oddly relieved by the rainforest energy in Ruger’s bathroom. I can still see his shoes on the other side of the door. I don’t know why he feels the need to be this close to me. Why would any racist?

I can hear Ruger’s low, deep chuckle. Which I find very irritating.

“I need a shower too, little brat,” he says. “And you’re going to watch me take it.”

I freeze.And then I ignore Ruger’s ass and turn the shower on. I’ll just pretend I didn’t hear him. That’ll work…

His back thuds against the door and he slides down to sit on the floor – I imagine. Even if I know he can’t see me, I know he’sthere. He also built that door. It stands to reason he could take it down.

Unfortunately,Ruger is correct. I smell terrible and I need to do something about it. So I take my clothes off. A shiver of excitement runs through me as I take my shirt off. I get to be clean… I’m tempted to look at my body in Ruger’s small fogged up bathroom mirror. But it has been a long ass time since I’ve seen myself and I know my ass is filthy and torn up from the road.

Beforeeverything happened in Massachusetts, I would have never walked past a mirror without looking. Now, how I look feels like a burden. Something that just puts my life in danger. Look at what happened here with Ruger. How long did it take before he asked to see me naked… because I’m black. Because of how I look. I avoid the mirror and get the rest of my clothes off, but I can still see my body.

Looking down, there’s nothing flat or “perfect” about my physique, but what I’ve seen on TV or my phone has never managed to make me feel bad about how I look. My thighs look thinner than I remember and whatever nail polish I last had on my toenails has chipped completely. My skin looks…thin.I hope this white man has some lotion in here… although I find that unlikely.

The water is hot enough – maybe too hot – but I step inside the shower, letting the humidity, the fog and eventually the stream of water envelop me completely. Once the water touches my body, feeling returns to all my extremities. I don’t realize how numb I am until the hot water makes my toes tingle. Then my fingers. Then my thighs. It’s like I’m coming awake. I take a deep breath of air as I feel the warmth all over my body. I feel alive, which isn’t typical for me.

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