Justice: Night Horses MC (6 page)

She couldn’t stop shaking, but Daniel didn’t seem to care any more.

He’d continued to torment and worship her breasts, he’d covered her body with his own and whispered the most horrible things in her ear, he’d touched almost every inch of her body.

The blows came frequently and unexpectedly, in no pattern she could see, and the pleasure almost as randomly.

He’d cut her bonds and let her free, but that didn’t seem to matter.

Now, he was sitting on her legs and carefully putting one bullet into a six-chambered gun, showing her what he was doing.

He spun it, and pointed it at her face.

“Suck it like you suck your biker boyfriend’s cock, whore,” he said.

Allie swallowed, but didn’t open her mouth.

She couldn’t.

She couldn’t suck a loaded gun.

“Either you suck it, or I’ll shove it up your cunt and fire five times,” he said. His eyes were cold and hard. He meant it.

The cold metal had just slipped through her lips when the door handle shook and then the door burst open.

“Get the fuck off of her, you creep,” Jesse said.

The tears that Allie had tried to repress finally came. She needed it. She’d needed him, she’d needed rescuing, and they hadn’t come. She had been afraid that they never would, that she’d live the rest of her life as Daniel’s whore, unable to escape, unable to do anything but let her body be used.

Daniel spun around, jerking the gun out of her mouth and pointing it at Jesse.

He managed to fire once before Jesse was on him, tackling him, pinning him to the floor, jerking the gun out of his grasp and tossing it onto the bed away from the redhead.

Allie grabbed the sheet up over her naked body and fled to the far edge of the bed, putting her back against the wall and staring at the two men.

Jesse was younger and angry, but Daniel was larger and more experienced.

Daniel was winning.

She could tell that easily.

Jesse was too angry, too busy swearing and threatening to counter Daniel’s cold, logical assault.

The rescue wasn’t going to mean a damn thing if Jesse just got himself killed.

She watched Daniel reach up onto the bed, patting around for something, and she kicked his hand.

The gun,
she thought.
I’ve got to get to the gun before he does.

She started tearing through the sheets, searching desperately.

When she shook one of the pillows, it skidded across the bed like some sort of live thing, the cold metal moving easily across the smooth satin of the sheet.

They both reached for the gun.

Allie got there first.

The metal was hard, almost alien under her fingers, but she’d fired one before, and it was hardly rocket science.

She looked Daniel in the eyes as she aimed for his chest and squeezed the trigger.

The recoil shook her hand, but her aim was steady. Center of mass wasn’t exactly a small target, and Jesse had flung himself away when he saw the gun.

Daniel didn’t flee, didn’t try it grab it from her. He just grinned that cocky grin and spread his arms.

“Guess it’s my lucky day,” he said.

He reached out for the gun, and she squared her shoulders and fired it again, and again.

Even after the shot went off and the bullet hit home, he didn’t look away from her eyes.

When she crawled to the edge of the bed and peered over, he was still looking at her. His hands twitched slowly towards the bloody wound on his side.

“Liver,” Jesse said. “You’re fucked, asshole.”

The pimp didn’t even look at the biker.

He stared at Allie, watching her with his final breaths.

“Fuck you,” she whispered. “I’m not your good girl.”

The blond man flipped her off - and died.

“I killed him,” Allie said, looking up at Jesse.

“Yeah,” he said, more serious now. “Yeah, you did. Okay. Come on. Put the gun down, okay?”

Allie nodded.

She put the gun down, safety on.

Jesse nodded.

“Can I give you a hug?” he asked, simply.

Allie nodded.

Jesse sat down on the edge of the bed and held his arms out to her, waiting for her to cross the bed and fling herself into them.

He smelled good. Not like pomade and cologne, like Daniel. Jesse smelled manly - soap, and a hint of body odor. It wasn’t unpleasant.

She loved the way he smelled.

She loved him, she realized.

The worst moment of her brief captivity was when she thought that she might never see him again.

That would just make life not worth living.

She hadn’t even realized that she was crying until Jesse was shushing her and stroking her back, trying to be comforting.

“You killed the fucker?” she heard a familiar voice ask.

Merle.

“No, she did,” Jesse said.

Allie didn’t look up. She focused on Jesse, on the comforting warmth of him, on the way that he had come to mean
safety
and
home
to her.

“We’ve gotta book it, someone had to have heard that shot,” Merle said.

Allie could feel Jesse nod.

“Lemme up,” he whispered to her, patting her back, and she nodded, leaning away from him.

He stripped off his jacket and shirt, putting his jacket back on and handing her his thick white cotton t-shirt.

She put it on with numb fingers.

It smelled like him. Her jeans hadn’t been cut up like her shirt, so she pulled them back on, but she couldn’t have managed to put on something of Daniel’s to get out of the building.

Jesse had known that.

She hadn’t even had to say anything.

He knew her so well.

Halfway to the front door, in the middle of a flight of steps, she stopped.

“I love you, Jesse,” she said.

“I love you too,” he told her with a grin.

“That’s very sweet, now let’s get the fuck out of here and get that piece dropped,” Merle said, turning around to shoo them on.

The rest of the day was a blur, especially compared to the endless stretch of time-crawling misery she’d suffered at Daniel’s hands.

Before she quite knew how it happened, Merle had taken the gun from Jesse and said that it wouldn’t turn up, Carlos had changed the security tapes so it looked like she’d been at the tattoo shop all day, and a few hard-eyed men in black leather had been posted near the door of her apartment.

“Do you want to come to our place in the woods?” Merle had asked. “You’d be perfectly safe there.”

Allie had shaken her head and told him that she wanted to be
home.

So, in practically no time at all, she was sitting on Carlos’s couch, with Jesse on one side and Carlos himself on the other, watching a stupid cartoon.

“You gonna be okay, chica?” Carlos asked.

He turned his head and looked at her, nestled in Jesse’s arms.

“Yeah,” he said. “You’re gonna be okay.”

THE END.

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