Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75592 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
One of the windows was boarded up.
It didn’t occur to me that anything might be weird about that window at first.
I would be beating myself up about that in no time, though.
As it was, I took the bags of groceries out of the passenger seat, thinking about nothing but getting home. And avoiding the swarming hornets coming from an alarmingly large nest hanging under the eave a few feet from the front door.
I was having a flashback to stepping on one of the damn things when I was a little kid and how my foot had swelled up so badly that I couldn’t walk on it for two days. And since my mother was on the outs with her dealer, she’d been too busy detoxing to do anything for me. I’d needed to crawl to the bathroom and the kitchen to get myself anything to eat.
Even if I had Rook to take care of me now—and I knew down to my bones that he would—I really didn’t want a repeat of that pain.
I was so distracted by trying not to get stung by the notoriously ornery flying beasts that I didn’t realize I’d forgotten my phone until I’d put the bags down on the front step and reached for it to take the proof of delivery photo.
“Damnit,” I grumbled, annoyed that I would have to pass the hornets not just one, but two, more times before I could leave.
I didn’t even hear the door.
Nor the footsteps on the steps.
I didn’t have time to try to run.
Or even scream.
A hand wrapped around my waist as another slapped down on my mouth.
I was lifted up off my feet, leaving me to do nothing but pedal my legs in the air helplessly.
“Did you really think I’d let you leave me?”
That voice.
God, that voice.
I’d prayed I would never hear it again, that he would never find me.
I should have known better.
No one knew this man as well as I did. The woman whom he’d claimed as his own.
Randy “Rubble” Jones.
President of the Iron Wolves bike club.
A man who made me so miserable that I’d packed a few things while he’d been asleep one night, stole all the money in his wallet, then snuck out of the club in the wee hours of the morning.
My heart had been pounding so fast, my stomach sloshing so hard, that I only got about a block away before I had to stop to throw up.
That same feeling rose up my throat as I felt the hot breath in my ear as Randy dragged me backward.
The old me never would have fought, would have tried to cower and beg and placate.
The new me didn’t even know that woman anymore.
I dug my nails in as hard as I could, raking them across his hands and forearms, getting a sick sort of satisfaction in the way he yowled in pain.
“Just giving me more reasons to bring you to heel, T,” he snarled as his arm tightened so hard around my middle that my ribs screamed and it felt impossible to draw a proper breath.
My gaze whipped around wildly, praying someone would see. But those damn trees blocked the whole view of this trailer from the rest of the park.
A pathetic little sound rose up in my throat, but I tamped it back down, refusing to give him the satisfaction.
My body jostled as I was pulled up the stairs and into the home. I was met immediately with the scent of a long-closed-up house: old dust, mold, and musty carpets.
The screen door slapped against the frame, and Randy’s leg rose to kick the door shut.
“Got her, boys!” he declared, getting a chorus of hoots and whistles that made my blood run cold.
Enduring Randy had been horrific enough. But because he was the president, and I was his property, he’d kept me to himself. As a show of dominance, I guess.
There wasn’t much comfort in my old life. But not being groped or abused by the other bikers had been the only positive.
But now that I’d run, that I’d forced Randy to come get me, I didn’t know if the same rules applied. Would he let everyone abuse and use me as punishment? Would he laugh as I screamed and cried?
No.
No, I couldn’t let my mind go there.
He’d said he wanted to bring me to heel. And from what I’d seen about how he treated other women who displeased him, I really didn’t think he’d bother to try to break me again if he didn’t intend to keep me as his.
Not that I intended to let that happen.
I mean, this was a mobile home, not a fortress. It was an ancient one, at that. And had clearly been abandoned for years. Hell, I could probably kick through a wall of the damn thing if I was left alone long enough.