Unholy: The Unholys MC (20 page)

Specter nodded in agreement, and I left. Worm trundled along behind me after a moment. I thought about the body in the woods and the still-warm one in my shot. Maybe it should have bothered me that they were dead, that I’d killed them—but it didn’t. In fact, I didn’t give a damn about any Berserker.

I made a silent promise to myself as I straddled my bike and revved it up. I’d make it out of this and take Charlotte, too, even if I had to do it by riding a wave in an ocean of blood.

Chapter Twenty Three

I was on edge. It was hard not to be. There had been some comfort to be found when Specter showed up and revealed what was really going on. On the other hand, knowing someone was on my side but still couldn’t help me didn’t do me a lot of favors. It wouldn't save me when things got bad. And I knew they were going to get bad soon.

Stitches had promised me that much.

I hadn’t received a meal in a while, not since breakfast, and I hadn’t eaten that. When the guard who replaced Specter came down, he took my tray away and gave me nothing but another juice box. I thought about protesting, but didn’t really see the point in knocking a sleeping bee hive with a stick.

I sat on my lumpy cot and stared at the door at the top of the stairs. My only way out. I had to assume that Johnny would come for me that way, though I imagined all kinds of alternate scenarios that were completely impossible.

An explosion would sound off next to my head, a crackling boom of concrete, twisted metal, and then the smoke would pour in. Billowing clouds rising through the room, eating up the oxygen. I’d cough and hack, trying to get a breath in as my eyes watered against the smoke. And then out of that smoke I would see the silhouette of a man. Tall and fit with strong muscles and a trim waist.

He’d come towards me and I’d back away, unable to see his features. I’d hit the other side of the wall, the one that hadn’t been blown to bits by dynamite or artillery or a pipe bomb. Once I’d hit that wall, his features would become clear.

It would be Johnny. I’d cry and wail and call out his name, so desperate and so relieved that he’d come for me, that he’d rescued me. I’d throw my arms around his neck, clinging to him with all my might, and then he’d scoop me up into his arms. He would carry me away through the opening and Stitches would yell and seethe against it. He’d rage at me, yell profanities until finally, Johnny would have enough of it. He’d pull his gun and—

I shook myself free of the daydream. It was strange to long for something so violent. Stranger still to long for the death of someone. Not so long ago I had tried to imagine a world without any violence in it, where I wouldn’t be scared. I hadn’t been able to do it. At the time, I’d blamed it on the lifestyle of being a biker’s bitch, his “old lady.” Now, I was beginning to wonder if maybe it wasn’t just me to begin with.

Biting my lip, I decided that I was being ridiculous. I wanted Stitches dead because he was going to do terrible things to me. That didn’t make me a bad or violent person. That made me human.

I was stuck on these thoughts when the door at the top of the steps popped open. I surged to my feet, hope springing eternal, and searched the boots that were coming down the stairs. That same hope fizzled out almost instantly and my shoulders slumped. I realized it immediately that those were Stitches’ boots. But it wasn’t just him this time. A second pair and then a third followed him down the stairs.

Stepping back away from the bars of the cage, I folded my arms across my chest, putting as much between myself and these awful men as possible.

Stitches grinned at me. He was holding something in his hands, something that looked out of place. It was red and black, but lacy… I frowned, trying to figure out what it was. Stitches must have noticed my gaze, because his grin widened. He unfolded the scrap of fabric in his hands and held it out for me to see.

I realized what it was and my body went cold.

He held up what looked to be a cross between a lingerie teddy and a swimsuit. The material was all made of black lace, but trimmed in red ribbon. There was obviously a bra portion of it that looked like it was probably designed to give lift, but the bra was attached to the rest of it. Lines of red traveled down over what must have been the torso leading to a pair of tiny, lacy black panties. They were attached, but I saw where there was a tiny flap that could be lifted up, probably to release them from the rest.

I shivered as I thought,
Easy access
.

“Do you like it?” Stitches asked eagerly, though there was a hint of malice in his voice that always seemed to linger there. The two men behind him chuckled in amusement, both of them huge men with bulging biceps. I don’t know if under normal circumstances they might be attractive, because I was so terrified that they simply looked like grotesque caricatures of mercenaries.

I shook my head in answer, but said nothing. I knew if I did, my voice would come out as a terrible, trembling mess.

Stitches fake pouted, then threw it between the bars towards me. It landed near my feet and I actually took a step back from it, as though the piece of lacy lingerie might burn me.

“Too bad,” Stitches told me, not seeming to care one way or the other. “Put it on.”

I stood frozen, arms still crossed over my chest, unwilling to even look at that damn thing again. I shook my head once more.

Stitches stepped forward, leaning against the bars. I imagined that I could smell his breath, though he was really too far away for that. When he spoke, I shuddered. “Put it on,” he repeated, quietly, calmly, “Or I’ll come in there and put it on for you.”

My heart pounded in my chest. I imagined him coming in here. If it weren’t for the two men behind him, maybe that would have been an opportunity. I could find a way to incapacitate him and make a run for it, but those two bodyguards of his
were
there and if Stitches came in here… I knew that I’d struggle against him, but he’d be too strong for me. His hands would grab at my clothes. He’d tear them off of me. Would he fondle me, too? Would he touch my most intimate of areas? Defile me? Would he put his hands between my legs and—

The thoughts were too much. The images made me feel like I wanted to hurl, like he’d already done those things to me instead of only promising to do them, and I knew as I sank down to the floor of the cage I would have to do as he asked. I would have to.

With trembling hands, I reached out for the garment lying on the floor. I picked it up and brought it to me, then looked up at Stitches. He was grinning maliciously at me, the movement pulling at the awful scars across his face, making him look as grotesque on the outside as I knew he was on the inside.

“That’s a good girl.”

I clutched the fabric to me, and waited for the men to leave. Except they didn’t. No one moved. They all just stood there—staring at me, leering at me. I began to shake harder as I realized that this was as much a strip tease as a means of making me feel… violated.

“Go on,” Stitches prompted me, and I clutched my eyes tightly shut against his words and his gaze.

I turned away from the men, so at least I couldn’t see them, then I did the unthinkable. I began to undress. My shirt, my pants, my underwear… It all dropped to the floor. I tried to hide as much of my body as I could from the awful gazes of the men, but there was only so much I could do.

They wolf whistled at me the entire time. They said terrible things:

“Nice ass, honey. Can’t want to get my dick in it.”

“When’re you gonna show me those tits, baby?

“Gonna wait until we come all over them before you show ‘em off?”

I did my best to ignore their taunts, telling myself that it wouldn’t come to that. This was about torture, not sex, and I would be saved before… before it came to that. Johnny would come. I would find a way out of this. Everything would be okay.

I had to believe that, had to tell myself that.

Slipping on the negligée as quickly as I could, I felt better that I was at least
partially
covered, though the little scrap of fabric did little to hide my assets. My breasts were barely restrained, the fabric stopping just shy of exposing my nipples, and my cleavage was so prominent that I almost felt that it might have been better to be naked. The material covering my midsection was mesh, see-through save for the red lines of ribbon that started at my tits and went down to attach to my panties. Tiny black panties with little red lace edging the holes of it.

I didn’t turn when I was finished, just knelt down on the floor, curling in on myself, trying to be as small as I could.

Even so, I heard Stitches mutter, “You look very fuckable. I think we should do it now.”

I pulled in tighter on myself, like that might be enough to protect me, but it wasn’t. The cage door opened and I heard footsteps shuffling in towards me. It wasn’t Stitches himself who picked me up, but one of the other men. He grabbed me around the middle and threw me over his shoulder.

His touch finally threw me into defense mode. I screamed and I wailed. I pounded my tiny fists against the man’s huge back and kicked at his front, but it did nothing. Nothing at all. He didn’t even seem to notice it.

They took me upstairs. I screamed myself hoarse, but Stitches just laughed, saying no one was around. I didn’t quit trying.

He said to the other guy, the one who wasn’t holding me, “You know, I kinda like the way she screams. I was going to drug her before, but maybe I should just let her be awake for it. What do you think?”

The other man looked over at me. I caught sight of him as I struggled to get myself down, saw that he was staring at my barely covered ass. He finally said, “I don’t know. I like it when they’re just lying there when you do them, you know?”

I felt sick. They couldn’t be doing this. They couldn’t be talking about this. They couldn’t be so casual about… about
raping me!

I struggled as hard as I could until my throat was sore and I was exhausted, but to no avail. When I was finally put down, it was thanks to absolutely nothing on my part. The man carrying me just threw me down once we’d gotten into a room. He’d at least thrown me down onto a bed, though the mattress was dirty and stained. I looked up, scrambling away across the mattress to put some distance between the large, burly man and myself. As I did, I realized what sort of room we were in.

A studio.

The bed I was on was a prop. It was slid up against a wall that looked like it was completely unnecessary, just a prop made specifically for use with the bed and nothing more. There were probably support beams behind it, since it didn’t look to be attached to anything.

In front of the bed was a large, expensive-looking camera. It was old and a little beat up, but definitely better quality than any I'd seen before. There were a bunch of lights set up around it, too, most of them pointed directly at me so that I was completely illuminated in an otherwise mostly dark room.

Behind the camera was a group of three or four men. Some were big and burly, others leaner, looking every bit like drug addicts.

One stepped forward. He was a large man, taller than me by a foot or better with bulging muscles that seemed to be everywhere. He stripped off his shirt as he approached me and my heart dropped low into my stomach. I realized it before he said anything that this man… this would be the one to actually do the deed. He would be the one to force himself upon me against my will.

I dared to look at the camera and realized that we’d be doing this on film. I was about to be violated and these sick bastards wanted it on
film
.

I felt sick and for a moment I really thought I might through up. If I’d thought maybe they would be stop—out of disgust, not concern—I would have tried to force myself, but I was pretty sure it wouldn’t matter one way or the other. This was going to happen.

The man grinned at me, not as malicious as Stitches, but just as eager. His expression was a mask of lust, but not that delightful, edible lust that I saw shine in Johnny’s eyes before he took me until I screamed. No, this was different. This lust was as much for the violence as it was for my body.

I couldn’t let this happen.

I watched as the man began to undo his belt buckle. I realized that beneath his jeans there was already a bulge, telling me that he wouldn’t need any time to get
ready
for me.

Bile rose in my throat, but I pushed it down forcibly this time. I needed to try and find a way out of here. I had to get out of here before—