Page 28 of Kick

“Did it hurt?”

“Little bit, yeah.”

“How’s the new girl coping?”

“Indie?” I ask, rolling my head on the sofa back to look at her. “She’s not. Tried to off herself in my room.”

“I heard.” She offers a sad smile, and fuck me, it’s one of the sweetest fucking things I’ve ever seen. “I’m sorry.”

“What the fuck is with you women? Why the hell are we talking about this shit?”

“Because I know what it’s like to be alone, Daniel. It’s a hard place to be.”

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, shaking my head, but she’s right; alone is the hardest place to be. Alone fuckin’ sucks, but what can any of us do about it?

I let her words sink in for a beat, and then I let out an exasperated breath. “Can’t even take a fucking nap in peace,” I say, and push up off the couch.

Raine chuckles. “You’re welcome,” she shouts after me, and I give her the finger as I continue down the hall to my room. To Indie. I’ve left her to sit and stew long enough. Now I need answers; now I need her to trust me. Though that shit didn’t work out so fucking well for the last woman who put her faith in me.

Iset my empty pack of smokes on the concrete floor beside me. My arse hurts. I don’t know how long we’ve been here but the girl has been dozing on and off for what feels like hours, sleeping fitfully. She wakes—expecting to be somewhere else, maybe—and startles when she sees me, and then after glowering at me for the longest time, she eventually slips back under.

The door opens and the girl jumps and then skitters back against the wall, instantly awake and huddling in the corner as Tank and Prez stalk into the room.

“Time for round fuckin’ two, bitch.” Prez throws his arms wide, looking gleeful at the panic he’s seeing in her. I wanna empty my clip into his dick but I glare at him instead, wishing I had the balls to do something to save her from him.

I’m not under any illusions; I’m no fuckin’ hero. I’m the antihero here because I didn’t fight harder, because I watched and I got off on it, but that doesn’t mean I wanna see him do it again. She’s so fucking strong, and he might hold her down and use up her body until she’s physically broken and bloody, but she still won’t break, not mentally. I know that as inherently as I know I deserve to burn in hell for the things I’ve done, and the things I’ll no doubt do before I’m dead. I know that as well as I know that my prez won’t give up. And I know that she’ll die screaming because of it.

I rise to my feet and glance at Tank as Prez advances on the girl. Tank’s face is stoic—no surprise there—but he won’t meet my eyes, an action so at odds with everything I know about the man. I dart my eyes back to the girl just as Prez backhands her across the cheek. She’s corralled into a corner, trying to fend off Prez’s greedy fuckin’ hands. He pokes at her, the way you’d poke a stick at a dead animal.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” he says, lunging for her. He wraps his hand around her throat, lifting her from the floor as she struggles against him, her face contorted in pain, the wall at her back. “That sweet little pussy ready for me, yet?”

“Fuck you.” She grits out the words around the fingers clasping her throat.

“No, sweet thing.” I can’t see his face but I know he’s grinning like a homicidal maniac. “Fuck you.”

Her eyes meet mine over his shoulder. They’re not pleading for me to make him stop, but challenging. The bitch is fucking daring me to watch as he breaks her body. I can’t do this again. I bend double and glare a hole into the floor. “Kick, get over here.”

I take a deep, shuddering breath, my chest squeezing tight. My head doesn’t want any part of this, but my cock is already straining against my jeans. I straighten. Do I see a way out of raping this girl? Yeah. I could stab my prez in the kidneys, the way I would have done if Tank hadn’t been here to stop me yesterday. I could beat the shit out of Prez, take the girl and run, but would Tank let me? Not fuckin’ likely. If any brother but Ethan ever had my back it’s Tank, but even he’s not dumb enough to let me get away with that shit.

Prez turns to face me. “Sometime to-fuckin’-day, son.”

Hatred burns my gaze as it bores into him. I take a step forward, my body going through the motions, but my mind is flailing around like a fish out of water, not knowing what to do. If I kill Prez and take the girl, I betray the brotherhood—assuming I can get past Tank, that is. If I go through with Prez’s orders, then I’m as fucked up as him. I want this girl, but I want her on my terms, not his. If it were any other bitch, I might not bat an eyelid. I’d do what I had to, because it meant I didn’t wind up with a bullet in my skull.

I stalk forward, knowing without having to make the decision what I will do because there’s only one option here … to follow orders.

Prez smiles. He pats me on the back as I stand next to him. The girl begins thrashing; he has her pinned to the wall with one hand. He laughs as she strikes him. “Fuckin’ feral bitch, this one. Wanna watch your cock doesn’t get chewed up by that vicious little cooter of hers.”

I step between them, forcing Prez’s arm away, and I trap her against the wall with my lower body. She throws out her fist and strikes me across the side of the face with it. It isn’t some half-arsed girly attempt; this bitch knows how to hit, and she’s not pulling punches. The blow hurts like a motherfucker, my cheek throbs, and pain radiates through my skull. I catch her wrists up in mine before she can deal another blow and force them up above her head, slamming her into the wall.

I lean in and whisper close to her ear, “This will go much better for you if you stop struggling.”

I hate that I’m forced to take her like this. If I could just tell her that I have every intention of making this as pleasurable as it can be for her, she may be less inclined to fight, resulting in less damage. But rape is still rape and admitting that I don’t want to hurt her, that I’m forced to follow orders, in front of my prez is as good as a bullet to the brain. Gripping her wrists with one hand and undoing her pants with the other, I slip my hand inside, cringing inwardly when I feel the crusted blood over her swollen pussy. She bucks her hips, pressing herself further into the wall to escape my touch. That only aids me though, giving me a better grasp on her cunt, and the second she realises this, she begins twisting and writhing against me—no, not writhing against me, trying to get away from me. Though both my mind and body want her, I have to see this for what it is: rape. That’s all it can be, because as much as I might want to slide my fingers, and my cock inside her, she doesn’t want that, and this is the decision I made. This is the choice that keeps me alive—albeit a shitty one—but it is what it is, and I am who I am. I don’t make any excuses for that.

“Stop. Fucking. Struggling,” I whisper.

“Fuck you.” She rears her head back in an attempt to head-butt me but I snap my head back out of reach. My fingers shift inside her pants, spreading swollen lips and searching for that sweet spot. I know the second I find it because she quits struggling, at least for a beat, and then she’s back to bucking like a wild animal. I rub furiously at her clit until I feel her body jerk involuntarily. Her legs tremble, her flat stomach quivers against the heel of my hand, as her muscles war with her head. She lets out a whimpering cry, half torment, half pleasure. I slow my tempo, stroking in long, sure caresses, soothing her, coaxing her pleasure from her slowly, despite the anguish she feels, despite the fact that I’m the one forcing her to feel it.

Her eyes lock onto mine, and in that moment everything slips away. Prez, Tank, her pain, the room she’s held captive in—all of it. There’s only her eyes on mine, and her body succumbing to pleasure under my deft hands. Tears stream down her face and her eyelids fall closed as her body jerks with orgasm. I continue stroking, petting, playing, even as she tries to squeeze me from between her legs by clamping them shut. I stroke until I feel the violence of another release rip through her, and then I pull my hand free and lick my fingers clean, savouring the taste of her arousal tinged with the tang of blood that dances across my tongue as she slides down the wall and curls into herself, her eyes synched tightly closed and her mouth open with a silent, sobbing scream.

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