Ryker (Kings of Korruption MC Book 1) (8 page)

His chuckle is evil and vicious as he gives my body a shake.
 
“Shut the fuck up, bitch!”
 
He shakes me again and uses his hand to cover my nose and my mouth at the same time, cutting off my air supply.
 
Panicking, I struggle harder, managing to kick his shin with my heel.
 
“Fuck!
 
Fucking cunt!
 
Calm the fuck down.”
 

Taking a couple steps forward, he presses my front into the wall, his body pinning me from behind.
 
The hand over my mouth and nose changes position, allowing me to breathe again but still muffling my screams.
 
He reaches down in front of me and grabs onto my crotch roughly, digging his fingers painfully into my most private place.
 
I squeeze my eyes closed, crying out into his hand.
 
He grinds his hips into my ass, his erection rubbing me through his jeans and my tiny shorts.
 
Bile rises in my throat.
 
“Keep struggling, honey.
 
It turns me right the fuck on.”
 

My body stills, fear causing my muscles to stay tense and my mind alert.
 
His breath comes out rapidly, puffing across my cheek with each exhale.
 
The stench is unbearable and I hold my breath to avoid taking it in.
 
“That’s a good girl.
 
I ain’t gonna hurt ya, but you and me need to have a little chat.”
 
He continues to cover my mouth and wraps his other arm around my chest, pinning my back to his front as he turns and walks us right into my bedroom.

“Now, I’m gonna remove my hand.
 
We’re gonna talk, and if you scream, I’ll shut you up by cramming my cock down your fuckin throat.
 
Got me?”

Fear and despair courses through me, and tears stream down my cheeks as I nod frantically, letting him know that I did indeed “get him.”
 
There’s not a doubt in my mind he’ll do exactly as he threatened.
 
Slowly, he removes his hands and spins me around to face him before pushing me down into a sitting position on my bed.
 
My whole body trembles violently, my mind racing to come up with some way to escape him.
 
He says he just wants to talk, but I don’t believe him for a second.
 
The Devil’s Rejects are known for being violent and vicious, and I know that no matter what he says, I may not survive this conversation.

He stands in front of me, leering with a cocky smirk on his face.
 
I’d only met him a couple of times before, when I’d gone to the Devil’s clubhouse to pick up Anna. Krueger had shown an interest in me both times.
 
The problem with that was, his interest came out as crude come-ons and openly groping at me whenever he got close enough to touch.
 
He made my skin crawl.

His hair is short and greasy, dandruff showing at his temples, proving his hygiene habits to be severely lacking.
 
His eyes are beady and dark, his nose hooked and narrow like a beak.
 
His nose and cheeks are covered in pockmarks and his lips are so thin they’re virtually invisible.
 
He only stands about three inches taller than my five and a half feet, his body thin and sinewy like a snake.
 
It takes everything I have not to show my disgust.
 
I’m in no position to piss him off.

“Fuck, you are one gorgeous bitch.”
 
He lifts his hand, rubbing the heel of it up and down over his erection.
 
I stifle a gag, desperately trying to keep down the bile that keeps rising higher and higher in my throat.
 
“I can see your nipples through that thin little shirt of yours.”

His words cause my trembling to increase, and I quickly raise my arms, crossing them over my chest.
 
He chuckles again and drops his hand.
 
“Where’s your fuckin sister?
 
That bitch owes me money, and we had an arrangement.
 
She didn’t pay up, so I’m here to collect.”

My mind races.
 
Anna hasn’t told me much about what went on with the Devils, but I know it was bad, and I know that she’s completely terrified of them – Krueger especially.
 
I need to tell him something to get him to leave, but there’s no way in hell I’m giving up my sister.
 
“I … I … I don’t know.
 
I haven’t seen Anna in months.”
 
My fear causes my voice to stutter, and I pray he believes me and moves on.

His backhand knocks me back on the bed, clutching my busted lip, my nose dripping blood down the front of my shirt.
 
The pain is excruciating and unexpected – I’ve never been hit before.
 

“Fucking LIES!
 
I know that bitch lives here with you.
 
I saw her shit in the other room when I was here a couple weeks ago.
 
Now where. The. Fuck. IS SHE?”
 
He roars, bending down to get directly in my face.

It makes sense now.
 
It had been Krueger here that night.
 
Krueger that had lain in my bed, doing God knows what.
 
Revulsion, anger and fear battle for first place in my mind, while I try to keep the tears at bay.
 
Fuck him.
 
He isn’t getting his hands on Anna.
 
Removing my hand from my bloody lip, an eerie calm washes over me.
 
Anger courses through my veins.

“Fuck you!
 
I won’t tell you where she is.
 
I don’t care what you do.
 
Leave my sister alone, you fucking psycho.”
 
The words rip from my throat before I can stop them, but I don’t care.
 
I meant every word – no way am I telling this bastard where my sister is.
 
I brace myself, knowing that he’s going to hurt me; I can take anything he does to me, if it means keeping my sister safe.
 
I hope
.

His face twists into a sinister sneer as he leans even farther into my space.
 
“Oh honey.
 
I love your filthy mouth.
 
You really should have just told me where the bitch was, because now I’m gonna take my time with you.
 
Your sister gave you to me fair and square, and if she isn’t gonna pay up, I’m takin what’s owed to me.”

He lunges at me so fast, I don’t have time to roll out of the way.
 
His body pins me to the bed, the smell of cigarettes and body odor filling my nostrils.
 
His infamous knife in his hand, the light glinting off the steel blade.
 
I know he’s not going to let me live through this, so I fight.
 
I fight with everything I have.
 
I scream and claw and kick and bite at any part of him I can connect with.
 

“Fuckin BITCH!”
 
Krueger rears his arm back, punching his fist right into my temple.
 
The room spins, my vision blurring.
 
Nausea roils through my belly.
 
My body stills as I try to keep from throwing up.
 
His hands are all over me, squeezing my breasts and pulling on my shorts, yanking at them in a terrifying attempt to get them off.
 
He presses his dry, chapped lips to mine and I break out of the daze his punch had caused.
 
Opening my mouth, I bite down on his lip, drawing blood.

He screams. “FUCKIN CUNT!”
 
He delivers another blow, to my cheek this time, and claws at my shirt.
 
I buck and scream and flail my arms and legs, doing anything I can to get him off me.
 
My heart is pounding and my breathing comes out fast and labored.
 
Light headed, I feel like I’m going to pass out.
 

Krueger grinds his cock down onto my pubic bone, one hand squeezing my breast like a vice while the other embeds itself in my hair, effectively holding my head still.
 
Flailing wildly, my hand catches the vase on the nightstand.
 
It’s still filled with the flowers I’d bought myself the other day.
 
Reaching a little farther, my fingers catch the mouth, scrabbling to get a grip on it.
 
The second I do, I lift it from the stand.
 
Krueger is so caught up trying get my shorts off, he doesn’t notice when I lift it as high as I can, above our heads.
 
This vase is an heirloom; it’s ceramic and heavy.
 
If I hit him just right, I may just be able to get away.

Using every ounce of strength I have, I slam the vase down onto the side of his head.
 
I know it won’t knock him out, but it should knock him off me.
 
Flowers and water spray us both as it shatters against his temple.
 
He goes flying off me, landing on his back beside the bed, clutching his head and screaming obscenities at me.
 
I scramble to my feet and turn to run, but I see him struggling to get up.
 
Turning back to him, I use every ounce of strength I have and kick him right between the legs.
 
I hope I knocked his balls right up into his nostrils.
 
Fucker.

Turning again, I run from the room, getting the hell out of there.

***

Ryker

I don’t know what the fuck is wrong, but this bitch just isn’t doing it for me.
 
It’s been three days since we laid Smoke to rest, and seven days since I’d walked away from Charlie.
 
My head is all kinds of fucked up, and I don’t know what to do.
 
I miss Smokey; it kills me inside that I won’t ever see the crazy bastard again.
 
There’s some comfort in knowing that he went peacefully, and that he was prepared for his death.
 
As for Charlie … fuck.
 
I feel empty; like I made the wrong choice turning away from her.
 
That girl stars in almost every thought I have lately, and I want nothing more than to just show up at the nursing home, throw her over my shoulder like a caveman and claim her.
 
But I can’t do that.
 
Not if I don’t want her to end up like my mother.

I’m at The Pig’s Ear tavern with a bunch of my brothers, knocking back a few pints to unwind after a shit week.
 
The waitress had been rubbing her tits all over me, offering herself up on a silver platter.
 
Normally, I would just fuck her and be done with it.
 
I’ve had several offers this past week to get laid, but I can’t get Charlie out of my mind.
 

This bitch though ... at first, she’d had potential.
 
With her long, dark curly hair and big brown eyes, she looks enough like Charlie to make my dick stir in my pants.
 
My thought was, I could fuck her, pretend she was Charlie and work that damn woman out of my system once and for all.
 
It’s not working though.
 
She smells like cigarettes and cheap perfume, and she’s moaning into my mouth like a porn star.
 
It’s not sexy at all.
 
It’s fucking annoying.

Earlier, when she’d called out that she was taking a break, grabbed my hand and dragged me back here to the staff room, I went willingly.
 
Now, I’m just trying to ignore the stupid bitch, and imagine Charlie in her place – it’s not working.
 
Her hand’s in my pants, jerking my cock and I’m not even hard.
 
My hand’s up her shirt, but it’s doing nothing for me.
 
Her tits are too small.
 
Charlie’s are bigger, fuller ... perfect.
 
Just as I’m about to push her away and go back out to my beer, the door to the staff room flies open, slamming against the wall.

Our heads whip in that direction and I freeze when I see her.
 
What. The. Actual. Fuck?
 
Charlie is standing in the doorway, tearstains on her cheeks.
 
Her nose is obviously broken, her eyes already starting to bruise.
 
Her lip’s busted and looks like it needs a couple of stitches.
 
There’s a large bruise at her temple and her hair’s wild and falling from the ponytail that it’d once been in.
 
She’s wearing pajamas – tiny ones that would usually turn me right the fuck on, if it weren’t for the fact that the strap on her tank top is torn and there’s blood all over her shirt.
 
I can see scratch marks on her chest and shoulders, and more bruises appearing on her upper arms.
 
Her feet are bare and I can see scrapes on her toes from walking outside without shoes.

She stands there staring at us, her expression shocked and likely mirroring my own.
 
That’s when I realize that the waitress I was trying to lay the nuts too still has her hand down my pants, and I still have my palm wrapped around her tiny little tit.
 
I jerk away like I’ve been burned, hurriedly fastening my pants.

The waitress recovers from her shock quickly and rushes over to Charlie, placing her hands on her upper arms.
 
“Oh my God!
 
Charlotte?
 
What the hell happened to you?
 
Are you ok?”