Page 56 of Wild Ride

“Welcome back to us, Dakota.”

I search my brain for his name, knowing that he gave it to me at some point. He puts me out of my misery and introduces himself again as Grudge. No wonder I didn’t remember that. What a dumb name. I don’t say that to his face, but I really want to.

Instead of asking him the question that is begging to be asked, which is what he wants to do with me, I press my lips together and wait for him to speak. I’ve already heard enough about my legs being spread, so I have no desire to fuel that fire.

“We have plans for you, buttercup.”

Ew.

Gross.

I refuse.

He can shove his plans up his ass, but I don’t say that mainly because I don’t want to give him any ideas about my own ass. Which is a virgin ass, and I would like to keep it that way. I press my lips together as I wait for him to just get on with whatever the hell he’s brought me here for.

“We got a preacher here, and I think that you look decent enough,” he announces, slapping his palms on his thighs before rubbing them a few times.

“Excuse me?” I whisper.

“We’re getting married, you and me,” he announces.

Speechless is the only way I can describe how I’m feeling at this moment. I am without speech. The words have been sucked from my body. Because, oh hell no. I am not going to marry this man, not willingly and definitely not under duress.

He stands from his chair, and I swear I hear his knees crackle and pop as he does. I have nowhere to go. I’m stuck here. I watch as he moves toward the door, looking over his shoulder at me, then his lips curl up in disgust.

“I’ll have a couple of the prospects take you to the bathroom. You at least need to wash your cunt.”

Oh.

My.

God.

I’m going to throw up. My stomach turns, flips, and flops. He leaves me alone, and I hear the door lock into place behind him, but then I realize that someone is going to come and get me. They’re going to take me somewhere, giving me another opportunity to run.

And run is exactly what I’m going to do.

As fast as my legs will carry me.

And if it means my death or something close to it, then so fucking be it.

BULLET

Ralph’s sister is a student at UNC Wilmington, on the beach in North Carolina. Luckily, we have a nomad about thirty minutes from there, and he’s already at her apartment, staking the place out. He already has eyes on her and promises to take care of keeping her, and I quote, “sexy little ass” safe.

Ralph gives me the address for the clubhouse. It’s two and a half hours away from here. Grabbing the keys to the truck that brought Ralph here, I wrap my fingers around his bicep and tug him behind me.

“I gave you what you wanted,” Ralph cries out.

“Yeah,” I grunt. “But you’re going to finish this shit with us,” I say as I wrench the truck door open and toss his ass inside before I slam it closed.

Walking around the front of the truck, I climb into the driver’s seat and watch as the others straddle their bikes. I would much rather be on my bike than driving in this cage, but I am going to bring my woman back, and I don’t think she’s going to want to ride on the back of my bike for three hours. Plus, I’m not sure what kind of condition I’m going to find her in.

Gripping the steering wheel, I hear it crack beneath my grasp at the thought of anything happening to her. The Bloodhounds better not have touched a fucking hair on her gorgeous head.

Not that they aren’t going to die anyway for simply taking her. Hell, I would kill them for just thinking about taking her, let alone actually doing it like they did. However, the way I find her determines just how painful that death is going to be.

And right now, I’m thinking the worst, which means I’m thinking of all the worst ways a man can be murdered. The bikes begin to pull out, Viking being in the lead as the road captain. He’s already mapped out the best, fastest, and safest route to get to the clubhouse undetected—or rather, as undetected as possible.

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