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We’d feed her sporadically to prevent her from starving, but that was the extent of our hospitality.
“Not my problem, honey.”
“Wow. You all really do live up to your reputation. You know that?”
Her words piqued my interest, and I strode forward, backing her up against the wall. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she spat. “Mean, arrogant assholes on wheels.”
My head tilted backward, and I belted out a laugh, highly amused by her description. “You don’t know the half of it.” I leaned down, slamming my palm on the wall beside her head. “Bet you’ve heard more than that. Am I right?”
“You don’t take prisoners,” she added, “but you took me.”
“Fuck yeah, we did.”
“Why?”
“I think that’s obvious, little ball buster.”
She made a face. “Amelia doesn’t have your package.”
“We’ll see,” I replied noncommittally, pushing off the wall. “You won’t be going anywhere until we get answers.”
“You can’t keep me here forever!”
The shrill, panicked tone of her voice betrayed her worry. She didn’t know shit about what we could do. The RVMC didn’t back down from anyone, certainly not two tiny women who stuck their hands in the wrong cookie jar. We’d find out their involvement, where the package was located, and how to retrieve it. And if either of them lied to us, they’d get what they deserved.
Strolling to the door, I spun around before I reached for the handle, staring Henny down. “I suggest you think real hardabout what we want and find a way to give it to us, or you’re going to suffer for Amelia’s bad decisions.”
Sliding down the wall, she buried her face in her hands. “I really don’t know.”
“Then you’re doomed,” I replied ominously, opening the door and entering the hall, locking her in before walking away, a light whistle folding across my tongue, bursting free as I headed to Devil’s office.
“HOW’S OUR PRETTY PRISONER?” Devil asked, putting his boots up on his desk as he lit a smoke, taking a long hit as he awaited my answer.
“Bored and frustrated,” I answered with a laugh. “She sure hates that room and being cooped up.”
“Good. That’s the fucking point.” He puffed hard on his cigarette, briefly holding the smoke in his lungs before releasing it. “I fucking hate this shit.”
“Waiting?” I asked, knowing he didn’t like delays or loose ends.
“Don’t fuck with me, Raiden. I’m too wound up.”
He punctuated that point by organizing all the shit on top of his desk in a straight row. His O.C.D. tendencies kicked in whenever he felt stressed. I almost fucked with him by knocking one of them out of order but decided against it.
Devil, or Draven as I’d known him most of my life, was my best friend. We met in the third grade when a bully dumped a bag of chips over my head. I shoved him as Draven showed upand punched him in the nose. After that, we grew inseparable. Where one went, the other followed. Stayed like that through high school until Draven and I discovered motorcycles. Pussy was the only thing we loved more than the open road and the freedom that beckoned.
We weren’t cut out for college or the military, so we decided to form a motorcycle club. Draven wanted me to be pres, but I didn’t have the natural leadership he possessed. Being his right-hand man made me happy. That was all I needed.
Draven’s grandmother passed away a short time later, leaving him the deed to fifty acres on a rich, bountiful, legendary stretch of land known as the Reaper’s Vale. Adopting the moniker for our new club seemed the right fit. We built the Twisted Throttle Bar and clubhouse on the land, cementing our ownership with the blood and sweat of its members. Complete construction took nearly two years because of the harsh winters that halted months of work.
Even now, I feel pride in what we accomplished.
“You’re always wound up,” I reminded him. “Just get some pussy. Release all that built-up tension.”
He lifted his middle finger, flipping me off. “Cherry sucked my dick this morning. That ain’t the problem.”
Cherry was one of the regular girls who hung around the clubhouse, always looking for a member to please, hoping to get her chance to become an ol’ lady. She wouldn’t ever get that title, but I heard she was a good fuck. I didn’t touch the club girls. Well-used pussy wasn’t my preference.
