Page 10 of Ryder
“We don’t torture women,” I pointed out.
“First time for everything,” he shrugged as he spoke, “some people just deserve to fucking die.”
Reacher and I looked at each other, before we turned to look at him again.
“Anything you want to tell us?” He asked his VP, who just shrugged.
“Got no time for rapists, that’s all.”
I was up and out of my seat in a heartbeat.
“That’s not what this was. Just… just fucking leave it, okay? It… it was a fucked up night, but it’s over. We have more important shit to worry about. We have shipments coming in, and I need to get back on track.” I tried to leave, but Reacher caught my arm.
“You’re on house arrest until you’re straight, brother. Forget the shipments. They’re dealt with.”
“That’s my job.”
“Not right now, it isn’t.”
Fucking hell.
Four
Idrove past hisclubhouse. I just couldn’t help myself. Was I hoping for a glimpse of him? A chance to see him again? I’d stolen a different car this time, so they couldn’t possibly know it was me. I’d sweet-talked the prospect at the gate that night, telling him I was bringing my lover back. He took one look at the biker beside me and snorted, nodding at me to go through the already open gates.
I wore the wig; the one nobody looked past. Nobody noticed a damn thing. They saw long flowing blonde hair, and they looked no further. They never saw my flaws, and imperfections. They saw blonde hair first. Next they saw tits. Did anything else matter to men like them?
I didn’t want to give him up. That had become so clear to me since I’d left that place. I wanted to go back. I wanted to drag his bulky deadweight back into my car, as if I’d even have the strength. It took everything I had to get him into the car originally after our night together. The wheelchair had helped, but I didn’t have that now. Everything was throwaway. Cast off.Never revisited. It was how I’d been getting away with this for so long.
The men didn’t talk about what had happened to them. Women have a hard enough time with police and courts and media. Men declaring they’d been forced into sex? By a woman, no less? They’d be laughed out of the police station. Mocked. Teased. Slurred in the media. What kind of man can’t stop a woman? A weak one. A loser. Less than a man.
And they weren’t, or at leasthewasn’t. He was pure man. Intense. Powerful. Strong. Sexy as hell, with a cock that reached my deepest places, and teased the best orgasm out of me that I’d ever experienced.
So I passed the clubhouse, on its normally secure grounds, with men on watch, their leather cuts showing the word ‘prospect’ on the back. They were probably easy to manipulate, or fool, but it wasn’t the time. I’d keep watching, and when he least expected me to show up, I’d be there. I’d take him again.And this time, I’d keep him.
Five
Iwent outside afterthat frustrating discussion, because it occurred to me that I’d dropped my damn phone out there somewhere. It hadn’t been in my room, or down between the cushions of the sofa they’d dumped me on. Doc didn’t have it. So outside was the only option. It was a warm afternoon, and when I realised my phone wasn’t outside either, I had to accept the truth. I’d lost it last night.
It could be anywhere. At that bar. At the bitch’s lair. Anywhere in between. Maybe even in the car she’d driven me in. Who knew? I crouched against the wall, breathing in the warm summer air, and wondering what the fuck I should do next.
“What’s up, brother?”
It was Torch. He’d apparently been with me the night before, which wasn’t a surprise, since we normally hung out together. We’d been at the same school, and even though we hadn’t moved in the same circles then, we’d latched onto each other when we ended up at the same club. I’d known him twelve years now. As a brother.Family.
“I lost my phone,” I finally muttered, glancing at him. He’d crouched beside me, scratching at his shaved head. He kept it shaved, so the tattoos were visible. In my opinion, you’d have to be insane to let someone tattoo your scalp, but it suited him. The fact that it was an intricately detailed skull design, making it look like you were seeing under his skin, but with his face on the back of his head, just made him look more deadly. And that’s without knowing exactly why he’s called Torch.I know, and it scares the hell out of me.
“Want me to help look for it?” He asked, pushing up from his crouch to start mooching around.
“It’s not here, and it’s not inside either.”
He stared down at me. “So I’ll look for it at the bar when I go. They open soon.”
“I’m coming with,” I hissed, pushing up from the ground to glare at him.
“Brother… I wish you could, but, you know, Pres’s orders and all.”
I lunged at him, grabbing the front of his cut.
