Page 59 of Jacked and Jaded

“You two,” he waived his gun for Calliope to move to Bellamy. “Grab him under his arms and drag him in there.” When they didn’t move fast enough, he shouted, “Now!”

Calliope and Bellamy each grabbed him under an arm and struggled to drag him the short distance down the hall. They took turns bouncing off the door jamb as they heaved him inside the room and laid him down, trying to catch their breath.

“In the closet.” Again with the gun waving. The more he shouted at them and waved his gun around, the more pissed off Calliope was getting.

It took a little maneuvering, but they eventually got him inside the closet. “Now what?” Calliope asked.

“Now, that bitch Bellamy gets in there with him.”

Calliope was afraid for her friend to go in the closet, but she was more afraid to keep her out here with her where Clint might get the crazy idea to shoot her. She nodded her head. “It’s okay. Go ahead.”

“But,” Bellamy started.

“Go. Please.” Calliope watched her fried move inside the small closet. There was barely enough room for both her and Clint to fit.

“Close the door.” Calliope did as instructed and prayed she survived whatever this son of a bitch had in mind. “Now, put that chair under the door knob. I don’t want them getting out anytime soon. We need a little time to get away before someone finds them.”

He grabbed her roughly by the arm and pulled her along behind him. “I cannotbelieveyou are whoring yourself out to that biker. I thought you had more class than that.”

Calliope struggled against his pull as she was being dragged back toward the kitchen. “How did you find me?”

“I’ve been trying to find you since you left. I drove by your mother’s house once. I kept going by that bitch Bellamy’s store and every time she told me she didn’t know where you were.” He stopped and shook her roughly. “You know what I had to resort to in order to find you?” He shook her again, giving her whiplash.

“I’ll tell you. I had to burn her business down. Then I had to sit outside her house and wait for her to finally go to you. Only she didn’t go to your mother’s house. No, she had to go to some God damn carnival and you know what I saw? You! With that fucking biker, Jackson!” He started moving again. “I followed you around all night. Bet you didn’t know that, did you?”

He stopped in the middle of the kitchen and pushed her into the cabinets. “I followed Bellamy to this house and had to wait until this morning for your biker to leave. I had to sit in my fucking car all night!”

Holy shit. Clint had lost his mind. Where once he’d been willing to pretend to be civil and caring, now, he didn’t bother with pretending at all. His usual expensive clothes looked wrinkled and his shirt was untucked. His normally slicked back hair was falling in his face. His face was red with anger, his lips pulled back over his teeth as he yelled in her face. Her bicep hurt from where he was gripping her arm so tight, but she didn’t dare let him know. She was done being afraid of this asshole.

“Come on. We’re going home.” He tried to push her toward the broken back door until she dug her heels in, refusing to move. She’d made up her mind. She wasn’t going anywhere. If she left here, she would either end up dead, Jackson wouldn’t be able to find her, or both. She yanked her arm free and got backhanded for her efforts. Why was he always hitting her in the face? She was so tired of getting hit in the face. She turned into his body and rammed her knee between the legs. He immediately released her and doubled over, cupping himself. She grabbed the first thing she found on the counter and threw it at him. He roared when the toaster hit him in the head. He staggered to the side and she thought for sure he would go down. She was reaching for the sugar cannister, intending to hit him over the head with it, only to come up short as he lunged for her, tackling her to the floor.

He flipped her over onto her back and pinned her hips by straddling her. It took him a few tries, but he eventually captured her flailing hands in his and pinned them above her head. She strained against him as she put up the fight of her life. She had to get free. She was not going through this again.

“You know,” he growled. “I was going to wait until I got you home to do this, but I can clearly see you’ve had no discipline since you’ve been gone. I guess I’ll have to punish you now.” Using one hand to restrain both of hers, he reached for his belt, working it loose, then pulled it free. It was taking him a lot of effort to try and get the belt around her wrist and cast and he was getting angry. “If you don’t stop fighting me, I’m going to have to stop you like I did last time.”

“Get off me, you son of a bitch!” she screamed. She tried bucking him off without success. God, she hated Clint!

“That’s it!” He somehow managed to get her hands tied around one of the table legs with his belt despite her best efforts to get free. He grabbed her hair in both hands and started banging her head on the floor over and over until she quit screaming. Finally, getting her subdued, he reached between them to unbutton and unzip his pants.

No! Not again! This can’t be happening. She was seeing two of Clint hovering above her and both of them had a gleam in their eye that didn’t bode well for her. She went to push him off only to realize he’d successfully bound her hands and she couldn’t use them. She was feeling foggy and her movements were sluggish. She watched him reach for the button of her jeans and wanted to cry. He was going to rape her once again while she was unconscious. Why? Why her? Why couldn’t he just let her go? She was so angry that if she could get her hands on a gun, she’d shoot the bastard.

Black spots danced before her eyes. She was seconds from being violated again. She supposed if it was going to happen, maybe it was better she didn’t have to be awake for it. It wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how badly he hurt her. Just as she was finally succumbing to the darkness edging in, she thought she heard a great big roar and wondered where it came from. Was it a lion? She prayed that it was and she hoped like hell that it ate Clint.

17

Jackson would never in his life forget the sight of Clint Maxwell straddling Calliope, working her pants free. He had her arms tied above her head around a table leg and she wasn’t moving. As a matter of fact, he didn’t even think she was conscious. Was he planning on raping his woman while she was knocked out again? Oh, fuck no.

“Rrrraahhhh!”

Jackson charged him, knocking him to the side and off of Calliope. He pinned him to the floor and punched him in the face over and over and over, until Race and his dad pulled him off. “Not yet! Not here! We’ll take him to the safe house and deal with him there.”

Maverick took Jackson’s face in both hands and pulled him in close, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “Calm down. He’s out. Get it together. Right now, Calliope needs you. We’ll hang on to this fucker until you’re able to deal with him.”

“Swear?”

“I fucking swear.”

Jackson nodded his head and waited for his dad to release him. As soon as he did, he fell to his knees at Calliope’s side. Trick pulled his knife out and cut through the belt, freeing her hands. Fuck. He hit her. He’d bruised her beautiful face again. That son of a bitch was going to pay. Jackson vowed to drag it out and make it last as long as possible.

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