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“Take it for whatever you think it is.” He turned abruptly and in two long strides was at the driver’s door, yanking it open. He didn’t look at her when he muttered, “I need to shower in goddamn bleach.”
He shrugged back out of his cut and tossed it into the car onto the passenger seat. Without another word, or even a damn thank you, he got in, slammed the door shut and drove off like his ass was on fire.
That was one way to avoid talking to her any further about what occured up there. If he ignored her, she’d go away, right? Simply forget everything that just happened.
Thank you or not, he now owed her for saving his ass.
And she planned on collecting.
The tires of the Honda squealed as he gunned it as fast as he could into the garage lot.
His heart was still hammering, but at least the pot had stopped the shake of his hands.
He was still pissed.
Pissed at himself for fucking up.
Pissed at those bitches for overpowering him. Pissed at himself for letting them.
Pissed that he couldn’t free himself.
Pissed that Jet had to be the one to fucking rescue him.
First time in his fucking life where a pig did something decent for him. Probably the last time, too.
She wanted him to walk into a fucking pig pen and make a damn report!
Right. He’d get right the fuck on that. Because that was what he wanted to share with others. The fact he’d been overpowered, restrained to a fucking bed and he’d had three hillbilly cunts trying to...
Trying to...
Use him as a breeding tool.
Use his seed to produce more of those fucked-in-the-head motherfuckers.
He parked the Honda in its spot, shoved the shifter into Park, shut the engine off and, once the cage was quiet, he dropped his forehead to the steering wheel.
Thank fuck for Jet.
Thank fuck.
Thank fucking fuck.
He’d spent all his years inside without getting raped. And, Christ to fuck, it almost happened by three inbred Shirley bitches.
He blew out a breath, lifted his head and blew out another less shaky one.
He had no fucking cell phone. His gun was gone. So was his knife.
He didn’t even have his fucking dignity after what Jet saw. He would rather his brothers had found him in that situation than her.
Any-fucking-body but her.
“God-fuckin-damnit!” His shout filled the interior of the Honda.
He heard a muffled barking in response.
Fucking stupid motherfucking dog.
Why hadn’t anything eaten that little piece of shit yet? Why hadn’t it run out into the road and gotten flattened? He would just stop putting out food and water for the fucker. It would have to leave or die.
Something.
He growled and shoved open the driver’s door, unfolding himself from the sedan.
It was once again using his sled as a barrier between them.
“You piss on my sled, I’ll skin you a-fuckin-live, asshole!”
He ignored the incessant yapping as he strode across the lot to return the Honda keys to the office. If Reilly found them missing in the morning, she’d relentlessly ride his ass about it. And he was really not in the mood to deal with her ass.
He dug into his front pocket to grab his key ring...
Nothing.
Fuck.
He dug in his other pocket. Nope.
He’d lost his fucking keys up on the mountain somewhere.
This just was the bitter fucking icing on the rotten cake.
He slammed the shop door with his palm, then spun around.
For fuck’s sake, that meant he lost his sled keys.
And the keys to the bunkhouse and his room.
He tipped his head back, closed his eyes and screamed to the sky. “Fuck you, you inbred hillbilly redneck goat-fucking motherfuckers!”
He spun around as the barking got louder and he lunged at the little four-legged shithead, sending the rat dog running away in a fit of more barking with its tail tucked.
“You stupid fuck!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, slammed his back against the garage bay door and slid down it until his ass hit the cold concrete.
He dug his elbows into his bent knees and dropped his head into his hands, roughly raking his fingers through his hair. Then he just breathed.
Breathe.
He was still alive. Those cunts didn’t get what they wanted from him.
And Jet saved his ass.
From both of those things. Because eventually he wouldn’t have been able to not respond to their touching him whether he wanted to or not.
He had to dig deep and relive some awful fucking memories to fight his body’s natural reaction to the stimulation. Eventually, they would have mentally worn him down enough he could no longer fight his body’s response. Even with as much as his mind was screaming no.
Once they were done using him, stealing his seed, he would’ve been killed, if not tortured.
So, yeah, Jet saved his goddamn ass.
Her being nosy and all up in his business had fucking saved him.
He should thank her, but he wasn’t sure if he could face her. Not until that memory of her expression, as she hovered over him while cutting him free, was forgotten. Unfortunately, it might never be forgotten because it had been seared into his brain.
