Page 116 of Marcus: Sins of the Father

Everything inside me urges me to fight, but I know resisting only pisses these men off. As badly as I want to, I can’t afford to give them trouble, because if Harley and I are too much trouble, they’ll have no reason to keep us alive. But I find him so revolting, my skin crawls.

It’s almost involuntary when I knee him straight in the balls. He roars in pain, and I quickly try to move out of his reach. Before I get two steps, he yanks me around and slaps me across the face. The rings he wears cut my tender skin. He rears back to hit me again, but the door bursts open and a middle-aged plump redhead stands in the doorway.

“Trigger! What the hell is going on in here? You’re going to have to keep your hands off this one tonight.”

“The fuck I will,” he spits.

Her hands slam to her hips. “You’re scaring away half my paying customers. Half the Death Heads’ paying customers.” She emphasizes the word to remind him. “You want to explain that to Snake? Explain how your need for pussy is costing him money?”

He glares at her and then turns his attention to me, considering her words. A second later, he shoves me away, and I stumble. “I’ll be back, and I’ll be sure to bring something that’ll make you a little more docile.”

He shoves past the woman and down the stairs.

I study her, wondering if she could be an ally. “Thank you.”

“I didn’t do that for you, sweetheart.” She uses the endearment, but nothing about the way she says it is endearing. “Tomorrow you’ll start earning me money or the club can take you with them and do what they want. Understand?” She smiles a cruel smile, as if she’s enjoying the suffering she plans to impart.

“Understand.”

She walks through the door, turning back right before she shuts it. “Don’t get any ideas. They’ve got men stationed all around the place.” Not waiting for a response, she closes the door, locking it from the outside.

Pressing my ear to it, I listen intently, hoping Harley is okay. I never hear any screams. I can only hope they left her alone, too. Slumping against the door, I finally let my emotions out, and sob quietly, letting the tears come. Please find us, Marcus.

After realizing no one is going to bother us, at least not tonight, I finally doze off on the bed, knowing I’m going to need all my energy for tomorrow.

I don’t know how much time has passed when the rumble of motorcycles startles me awake.

Morning light filters through the window, and fear creeps in again as the events of the last twenty-four hours flash through my head. What if one of those bikes is Trigger coming back to finish what he started?

Marcus—

True to his word, Cole took ten minutes to review the aerial photos of the property online and plan out how we’ll surround it and clear room by room to ensure no one sneaks the girls out.

He also has Shane call in the Nevada chapter for assistance. Daytona, the president, was pissed to find out the Death Heads were fucking with the Dead in their state. He informed us he’d bring his full crew. It’ll take them about six hours to get to the area. They won’t be help at the cathouse, but they should be here by the time we ride to the Death Heads’ holding.

***

The cathouse comes into view as the sun rises over the mountains. It’s a sand-colored two-story stucco house. We roar up on it, knowing there’s no time to sneak up; we’ve only got speed on our side. Skidding to a stop with guns drawn, we immediately disarm the man guarding the door, who seems too shell-shocked to even pull his weapon. Once he’s down, we dash inside. The Dead Souls hang back to surround the house in case anyone gets the bright idea to sneak out the rear.

Being a prospect, I’m through the door last. A red-headed woman is raising hell, but two of the brothers get her restrained, while another holds a gun on a Death Head’s prospect.

I immediately head to the stairs. Crash has the same idea, and I trail behind him as we take the steps two at a time. Crash takes the door on the left, and I move to the one on the right. It’s unlocked, but the room is empty.

Crash’s door is locked. He steps back and lands a kick next to the doorknob where the shitty lock immediately gives way, busting open. A young blonde kneels between the spread legs of an old white man, giving him head.

“Hey, what is this? Get outta here,” he yells.

Crash scans the room and then moves down the hall to the next door. I stand back as he busts through it as well, but we only find two women on a bed pleasing a graying man. Neither are our girls.

The next door I come to has a key lock from the outside. My heart pounds. This is exactly the kind of room they’d use to keep someone prisoner inside. I jiggle the handle, but it’s locked.

Crash moves next to me. We lift our legs together and kick. The door bangs against the wall. A split second later, a wooden drawer comes flying across the room, smashing on the doorframe, causing us to both jump back to avoid being hit.

“Brandy! It’s me.” I call into the room as she gets ready to hurl another one.

At the sound of my voice, she drops the drawer and runs to me.

I grab her in my arms, holding her tight, breathing in her scent and thanking God. “Are you okay?”

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