Page 12 of Biker's Conquest: Property of Rage

“Like BDSM?” Amanda asks bluntly. Heat rushes to my cheeks. I don’t want to answer the question except for the fact that my stupid ass brought it up. Blame the pain searing across my ass cheeks. It’s a permanent reminder of what happened to me in Rage’s playroom.

“I guess.”

“Oh that is some seriously messed up shit.”

I feel exposed. I have to remind myself that she can’t see me nervously biting on my nails through the phone. I want to tell my cousin the truth, but what will she make of the truth? That I’m crazy? Completely screwed up?

Chapter Seven

Rage

Iam stuck in Oklahoma, seething with impatience. She blocked my number, which means I'll need to go to great extremes to get her ass back over here. To my house. To my playroom where she belongs. She can't deny how perfect our night was.Fuck!How dare she block my number? The second I settle, my rage returns.

When I get my hands on her, I'll unleash a spanking so fucking brutalizing on her ass that she'll have to suffer for days with the painful knowledge that she is just as addicted to receiving pain as I am to giving it.

Does she have another explanation for the way she melted into my arms when I carried her to the bath? She looked up at me with such a soft, nervous gaze as I gently washed her body. I haven't been able to think straight since I dropped her off.

Southpaw found one of Oske's runaway brothers, so she's back on the rez with him "discussing the land issue". She ignores my demands for another appointment with Keyshawn and simply tells me that "she's gone out East".

East where? Where the FUCK could Keyshawn possibly be and why the hell would she block my number?

I need help -- urgently. The only Barbarians nearby right now are Owen Shaw and Ruger Blackwood. Either of them can run the casino while I'm gone, although Owen has so much business in Vegas, I doubt he'll want the trouble. So he'll have to call Ruger and make sure he doesn't murder Seneca or Moses. Or both of them.

I message both of them that I need them urgently at my establishment to help me count money from the week. It's not exactly a lie, but it gets both of their attention. I make more money than one person can count alone every week and the more I have, the more trouble it is to wash it through a legal establishment. I would rather get the cash all balled up and pay my closest friends in whatever they can carry.

Ruger has a baby on the way and Owen always needs money because of the gambling, so they both eagerly respond to my pleas for help. I drive to the club with seething awareness that I'm acting like a fucking lunatic. My rage spills out everywhere.

I want her so badly it hurts and it seems like I'll have to wait. I'll do exactly what I promised when I find her. I'll make Keyshawn pay for every painful day of separation. I'll do whatever I must to make sure I never have to endure this type of separation again.

I will make sure this woman never leaves me. Ruger arrives first, immediately perceiving my anger.

"Did I fucking do something?"

"No. Not this time."

"Good," Ruger says. "Zayna is driving me crazy."

I raise an eyebrow. I have never heard him complain about Zayna before.

Ruger shrugs and continues. I have no interest in beingthis man's psychiatrist, but I need his help so I have to listen without being a dick.

"I tattooed her about a week ago and now she keeps wanting me to... do stuff to her in front of a mirror. Like ten times a day. I need to sleep. I'm building a house from scratch and I need to get it done before the baby comes..."

I have only ever heard Ruger speak in this much detail about skinning animals. Seriously. I'm too dumbfounded to stay angry.

"Be patient," I offer. "She's pregnant. Enjoy all the fucking while you can because when the baby comes... you're fucked."

Ruger might be a lot of things, but patient is not one of them. His screwed up face reddens with his frustration.

"I don't care about that," Ruger says. "I just want her to be happy but... I'm so fucking tired I can't think straight."

I don't think sleep is the problem with that particular issue, but Owen's arrival causes me to bite my tongue. Life has been good for Owen Shaw ever since he moved to Las Vegas. His old lady has a head for business, and Owen has made a big fuss over her applying to get her MBA. It’s some fancy degree for running a company and he can’t stop yapping about “going legit”.

He has a big ass smile on his face, which causes me a queasy sort of guilt over the secret I’m keeping for his brother. I don’t know what excuse Ethan gave for his sudden move, but he couldn’t have told Owen the truth based on his calm demeanor. Those boys all love their mother more than life itself.

“I won,” Owen says with a gleam in his eye. I should have known a grin that big could only be connected to a gambling win.

“What’d you win?” Ruger asks. “I have some money I’d like to invest if it’s a sure thing.”

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