Page 3 of Flint

“How’d you get here?” Domino questions. Another tactic: keep her guessing on who’s in charge.

“I… I don’t know.”

“The truth will get you out of here alive, sweetheart,” Jumper draws out.

“That is the truth. I think I hit my head or something. I just woke up back there and started walking toward the lights I saw before they went out. If I had any idea I was walking into this, you can bet your sweet ass I would have taken my chances climbing the hill.”

“Still no one else on the property. Sweep is complete. Party’s over, and the place is locked up. Law wants them brought in,” Casper huffs in my ear, and I can hear his irritation about giving orders and not taking them.

Fucking snipers. Always want to be in the fucking middle of everything. I actually prefer the sidelines. Less messy.

“What’s your name?”

“I.…”

“I asked for your name.” I really hate repeating myself, especially to chicks.

She just shakes her head, and I sigh in frustration. Fucking great. This is probably just some chick wanting dick for the night and thought sneaking in was the way to get it. Now she’s going to play this dumb shit.

“Are you that stupid that you don’t even know your name?” The boys chuckle at my joke. I ain’t in the mood to play nice. “Obviously you ain’t that bright if you think coming down that cliff was a wise decision. So tell us your name so we can get you the fuck off our property and make sure you stay that way.”

“Well, I don’t need brains to know you’re a jackass. And before you get your tighty-whities in a twist any more than they already are, I’m not apologizing for calling you that. You obviously have no common decency when you see a woman in distress, but whatever. Your mom must be so proud of you.”

Okay, call me a sick bastard, but insults are kind of hot. I mean, not always, but coming from this chick, something has my dick starting to take notice. The mud is caked on, but she’s got boobs, and I do like those. And the fact that she isn’t cowering and crying on the ground earns her a point or two in her favor.

“Before you ask again, I can’t tell you my name because I don’t know it. I’m sure I got one, but I have no fucking clue what it is.”

Chapter 2 – Unknown

W

ell, isn’t this fucking great….

Fuck! I can’t even berate myself properly without knowing my name. I wonder if I wrote it on my underwear. That happens right? I swear I heard that once but got no idea where from. I would check, but from the way these guys keep pointing guns at me each time I slow my trek to wherever the hell I’m going, I doubt stopping to strip is a good idea.

Then again, they’re male. Maybe showing a bit of T&A might help. But am I the type to do that? I really have no clue. Maybe I’m a slut? Why else am I wearing such a tiny pair of shorts and this racerback shirt? And why is everything so tight? I mean, I can breathe, but I feel like I’m trying to make a show of myself and not cover up.

Okay, so I take it I’m no saint. And from the way I keep cursing, I’m not the type to shy away from things. Well, that should be a bit obvious; I mean, they keep pointing guns at me, and I don’t flinch. Wonder if this has happened to me before. Maybe I’m like a spy or some shit, and I’m used to it.

Probably shouldn’t tell anyone that.

Bet they already figured that out. Why else would I be here? Wherever here is. I’m assuming it’s not a place I would venture into willingly unless I’m also into shady stuff like these guys. They’re bikers. The little I can see, they have the typical leather cuts on. I must be into bikers if I know the lingo.

“Can we slow down?” I ask.

“No.”

Ugh, this one pisses me off. He must be in charge with the way he’s the only one talking to me anymore besides the big ox who felt me up. Okay, not really felt up in a vulgar way, but he was good-looking enough that I might not have minded if he did. Of course, the one who keeps being a dick has me also wanting to tell my lady bits to calm down.

From the unshaved jawline to the top-spiked hair that I’m dying to run my fingers through, it looks so thick, I’m quivering in places that I should not be quivering in right now. And his arms. Fuck, I must be into those, too, since I can’t seem to look away from them as I follow the alpha asshole. They’re fucking huge, and every now and again, when the lights show his sleeves rising, I see bits of a tattoo.

Yeah, I like tattoos too.

But he’s a complete dick. No doubt he has one, bet he even knows how to use it. But he’s being more of an asshole than I want. I kind of like it—well, I did at the beginning. But the last couple times I’ve asked for a break or at least to slow down, I get nothing. And I’m not asking ’cause I’m scared about where we’re going.

Okay, maybe a little.

But it’s more to do with the fact that my shoulder fucking hurts, my head is banging, and my ankle is starting to really bother me. When I woke up on the ground, I had no clue where I was, could barely see shit, but I didn’t feel this bad. Sure, my head hurt when I touched the back of it, and the sticky stuff on my fingers made me think it was bleeding. The light coming from the building up ahead gives me some way to scan my body, but I’m covered in mud and have no idea if more blood is under that.

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