Page 78 of Property of the Hellfire Riders

Gunnar slaps my hand away and slams me against the wall, his face inches from mine. “You’re not getting away that easily,” he growls, his breath hot and rancid, reeking of whiskey.

He pins both of my wrists above my head, his body pressed against mine. I can feel his erection through his jeans, and revulsion courses through me.

“God, I wish I had just a bit more time to play with you.”

“Fuck you!”

With a surge of determination, I bring my knee up, aiming for his groin. The impact forces a pained gasp from him, and his grip loosens just enough for me to wriggle free. I dart past him, heading for the door, but he grabs my ankle, yanking me to the floor.

I hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of me.

“Help!” I try to scream, but I can’t catch my breath.

Gunnar looms over me, his face twisted in anger. Desperation gives me strength, and I kick out, my foot connecting with his shin. He stumbles back.

Scrambling to my feet, I make a dash for the door again.

But Gunnar is relentless.

He catches me around the waist, lifting me off the ground and throwing me back against the wall. Pain explodes through my body. I grit my teeth, trying to knock his head with mine.

“You’re tougher than you look,” Gunnar says, his voice a dangerous purr. “But this ends now.”

I gasp for air, eyes wide with fear and determination. My heart pounds in my chest as Gunnar's hand presses onto my mouth, muffling my cries. His body smells of sweat and leather, of greed and lust.

He presses a white rag with chloroform to my mouth.

My body tries to fight against it, but my limbs refuse to cooperate. As I choke on the chemical-soaked fabric, the world goes blurry, then black. Dimly, I'm aware of my struggles weakening, until my body finally succumbs to the darkness.

My mind is a fog.A mess. My consciousness feels like an eternity away from me, and I am being rocked in some endless sleep.

But I catch the drifting street lamps overhead like far away orbs, barely illuminating the blanket of night. I recognize the cold, night air. The sensation of heavy rain drops stinging my skin and the deafening wind.

I force my eyes open, but everything is blurry. My whole body aches, and I feel like I've been trapped in quicksand.

I’m in the back of a van?

“Mornin’ sweetheart,” Gunnar mutters. His dark eyes reflect in the rearview, studying me with a hunger I know too well. Another is beside him with a fat, nasty scar running down his cheek. One of the other members, but I never learned his name I don’t think. Thinking. I can’t do that right now. My head bobs slightly as I fight the sluggishness taking hold of me. “Glad you’re finally awake because we’ve just about arrived.”

A fat cigarette burns between his chapped lips.

The windows of the van are rolled down, whipping my hair around, sending in the rain in.

I’m alive.

That much I know. Barely coherent, but alive and kidnapped by one of the Hellfire Riders.

I feel the van engine slow down, and the gears engage as we turn onto a bumpy dirt road.

“Hey!” I slur, trying desperately to shake the fogginess of whatever; they both laugh at my attempt to speak. My voice is more like a croak than anything else.

“Dumb bitch,” the one in the passenger seat taunts. He turns to take in a long look at me. “You sure Reynolds would know if we took her for a run? See what’s got Hawk and his guys all worked up about.” In the haze, I make out the black devil horns tattooed over each of his eyes. He’s not from the Hellfire Riders. He’s a Dead Demon member.

“Don’t even think about it,” Gunnar hisses.

“Relax, brother. I was just joking,” the Dead Demon retorts.

They both share a look as the van comes to a stop, and the vehicle rocks me forward. My head slams against the hard, metal floor. The side door whips open, and Gunnar grabs my arm roughly, hauling me out onto the wet earth.

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