CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"It wasn't over; her closure didn't come with murder. She was simply changing the channel." – Zara

 

 

 

      It took another hour for the prisoners to wake. Broken dicks would render any man unconscious wishing for death was Rider's way of thinking, and still, he didn't feel an ounce of male solidarity for the dicks.

       One by one he asked each Rebel the same question and got the same reply along with pleas to let them go. Pathetic. They didn’t know anything about their president, as Rider suspected, Hades had taken off in the middle of a bloodbath assassination and didn’t worry to lift a finger to help his guys.

      He’d hoped they had enough self-preservation to spill their guts, but when faced with death they still weren’t selling out Hades, they either didn’t know or like the fucking village idiots were willing to die for a man who took off running not paying them a care by even looking back.

      Either way, this show was about to start.

      Rider cocked a subtle brow towards Hawk who smirked sinisterly and guided himself forward, already in the process of tying a black bandana around his hair, next out of his pocket came a white surgical mask a doctor would wear if he was gonna do open heart surgery. In a way, it was just the same. No anaesthesia, though. So there was that small difference.             

      They were going to feel every second until death took them.

      This was not gonna be pretty.

      It was going to get a lot messy.

      From behind the mask, Hawk spoke to no one in particular, but all of those suspended got the message loud and clear it was for him.

     "Don't want to get blood in my beard. Hate cleaning blood out of my beard." The other two Souls members chuckled as the Rebel enemies began to struggle, pulling at the chains, the length of chain straining their arms so far Rider knew they were in excruciating agony now.

      It was about to get so much worse.

     "L’Oréal. Because the crazy-fuck is worth it." Laughed Grinder digging in his pocket for his phone, he'd have the music to go ready when Hawk was about to start his work.

     "All this for that skinny fucking gash who ain’t even worth a decent screw!" There was a nastiness in T-bone's voice as if he suddenly realizes his ticket was about to get punched for the very last time. His eyes rampant with fear glared at Rider, spittle gathered in the corners of his mouth giving Rider the thought of a rabid dog right before you put it down.

      Rider’s whole body spun around. What the fuck had he said?

      What. The. Fuck. Did. He. Just. Say.

     A hush came like no other, every man silent.

     Waiting for Rider's reaction.

     "You think we don't know you's had our fuck toy 'ere, Rider? Saw the slut di'n't we. If we know, Hades knows as well. Hope he kills that cock guzzling bitch with his dick rammed down her greedy throat!" he spat on the floor. "Fuck you's all. She ain't all that. We broke her in for ya though di'n't we, boys. Stretched her niiiiiiiiiice, she was a tight cunt when we got our hands on her. Did she tell ya of the times we passed her around like she was a Christmas present? HoHoWHORE. She’s a lousy lay but we filled her overflowing."

      He barked a laugh viciously knowing his taunt had landed perfectly.

      The small barn was sucked of all air. The tension became thick as tar.

      T-bone had just made the second biggest mistake of his miserable ugly life.

      The hard planes of Rider's face changed.

      Violence whipped through him, hot and hard. His angled jaw, the sharp bridge of his nose all morphed into something evil. His feet rooted to the floor, staring at what he was hearing from the mouth of a disgusting animal talking of his Zara. It would be the last fucking thing he said about her, ever again.

      Rage rose up.

     It swelled inside Rider's chest until his ribs ached from the hard inhale of breath. His face turned nasty, his hand outstretched for Hawk to slap the wrench pipe into his palm in a familiar move almost as if his VP had been ready to pass the baton of ineffable violence to his friend. He didn't go for any other body part, zeroed in on the most important one to feel the damage. Swinging the wrench so hard into T-bone's face his arm ricocheted like a boomerang from the force so he could do it again and again and again. Blood and bones burst all over the place, those tiny facial bones crumbling to dust, giving the most unimaginable pain.

      Grinder swiped his iTunes to some loud decibel of Papa Roach's 'Between Angels and Insects' drowned out the excruciating harrowing screams as Rider beat the ever-loving fucking fuck out of the cunt that had damaged his old lady.

     T-bone was left hanging, a dead weight from his ropey arms, sweat pouring out of him, soaking his already BO stained torso, blood from Lawless’ handwork oozing down his side, his body had given out from the pain and shock dropping him into unconsciousness.

      Not yet, asshole. Death was coming, but not yet. He'd tell Hawk to make this one feel the most, to drag him back to consciousness and start all over again. His boys needed their torturous fun first before Rider would finish them off for good.

     Beside the unconscious bastard, two other men looked terrified, one began to plead, that he'd tell Rider anything, just let him go.

      This was another who had violated his woman, performed unimaginable things with her, not just for days and weeks, but months, years, treating her like she was less than nothing, something to be used until they’d ruined his sweet girl.

      His gait was dangerous, two steps and he was in front of the man begging for his life. Rider took hold of his head in his palms, squeezed him like a melon, reared back and cracked his forehead to his nose, blood spurting like a fountain, covering the front of Rider's shirt.

      The man howled his agony.

     "Clean up this pile of shit. Get to work boys. And make it hurt a lot." And with that hiss, Rider turned his back, permitted Lawless and Hawk to advance forward to do what they did best. He’d give then an hour. They could do a lot with a man in that time, take him right to the edge of death, watch his blood ooze out of him, and still he wouldn’t die.

      “Do your worst, you cocksucking pieces-a-shit!” spat one of them, fear in his eyes as piss ran down his legs stinking up the barn.

      And whaddya know, Hawk grinned.

      You don’t tell a man like him to do his worst and not expect it.

      Rider stood back with tension dogging his shoulder blades, wanting this over for his Zara, and watched Hawk dig into the bag of tools coming out with a cordless drill, it whirred it as he advanced.

     Tormenting screams were muffled by the soundproof room, thank god.

 

 

******

 

 

      Down the mountainside, away from the corrugated barn with the loud music tempering out the sound of death, Zara walked aimlessly around inside the compound’s main room. Feet carrying her undirected along the bar, the length of the wall of windows and back again, gazing out in hopes of seeing Rider’s return.

     Artificial lights blazed from almost every bulb on the ceiling, except for two that had flickered out last night and the hangaround's had yet to change them.

      Zara stared at the broken lamps for a long time, making them her focus while she tried to rein in her emotions. The noise came from the tv, the few boys still here watching a game, throwing back beers and laughing together, placing bets. All normal shit. How could they be so normal when Rider was out there doing god knows what.

      Murder. He was doing murder. She knew that.

      Her belly rolled over. Was he okay?

      She paced some more, unable to keep still, catching curious glances from several eyes, for once she didn't care who was looking at her, she had no desire to hide out in Rider's room, not until she saw him, worrying her fingers together until her skin was pink and sore, she walked some more.

      Maybe she should go out there, though he'd warned her to stay inside, not to go anywhere. He'd been gone nearly two hours.

      Did it take that long to kill people? Having never done it herself she concerned something had gone wrong.

     Perhaps T-bone had gotten loose somehow and had--- no, she warned herself of that route of thinking or she'd go mad with anxiety.

      Rider was fine.

      She repeated it several hundred times.

      And then there he was striding in through the door, a blast of frigid air wafted over before the door slammed shut behind him, Hawk, Grinder and lastly Lawless.

      Four grim reapers.

      Holy shit. They looked like a bloodbath.

      Two were smiling like sinister demons. She shivered, but not from fear because her eyes were already searching out the one who wasn’t smiling. So grave. His blue eyes hit her and didn’t move away. Before Zara realized it, she was making her way over to him. Moving faster with each hurried step, and then she was throwing herself into his arms, she didn’t care the state of his shirt.

      He had come back.

      He was okay.

      He was okay.

      If she’d thought for a second he wouldn’t catch her, she wrapped her legs around Rider’s waist just in case, but she shouldn’t have doubted when not even a moment later his long-muscled arms came around Zara’s body tightly as if he could draw her even deeper into him. She felt him sigh and say her name.

      What he’d done for her, given her, she could never thank him enough, something cracked free within her chest, she wanted to deliriously giggle, she was light as air.

      More than likely high on adrenaline streaking through her bloodstream making her blink back tears. Worry was an immense motivator to override any fear she had.

      Without considering, she drew back far enough to see his face, unfathomable things in his eyes searching her face. She dipped in and kissed his mouth, just lips touched.

      The feel of his mouth was heaven.

      It pulsed fire tracking over her skin. The kind of tremble that started low in her spine and ended up buried in the pit of her belly. It was slick, fast and hot, a streak of something she didn’t know but it pulsed as a living thing, urging her.

      No reaction from him.

      None.

      This was the same man who had pushed his tongue deep into her mouth just a few hours ago.

      Oh. So, he’s changed his mind about her then, she thought, drawing back a small degree.

      Two large hands clamped her head, tugging her back in. Harsh ragged breaths ghosted over her lips, so close. “Jesus. Fuck. God, Zara.”

     “Rider. Kiss me. Kiss me now.” she implored in a small whisper.

      This time he kissed her, gently crushing her mouth, urging her to open with slow licks to her lower lip. She did, immediately and his tongue slipped in. Zara was incapable of moaning as he slanted his head, changing angles, giving her a deeper kiss, a deeper taste of him, all air left her lungs, she was soundless, enthralled in the sweep of his precision, using teeth, tongue lips to melt her.

      Aware she’d been pressed against the edge of the bar, her legs tightened, his hands moved into her hair, his kiss turning savage. Her hands stroked up his chest, feeling his sternum furiously expanding.

      Her heart matched the same tempo galloping wildly.

      The contact of her hands seemed to spark a fresh groan from within him because his kiss deepened.

      Drunk on him, her blood sizzled, intoxicated for more.

      Please. Please. Please.

      It was all so much more compelling and reckless than she’d remembered this kind of kiss could be.

      Different. Drugging. But Zara wasn’t disappointed with the reality.

      This was amazing. This was…Rider.

      He wasn't gentle, or careful with her. He kissed the same way he commanded his motorcycle club; with fervency. She wriggled, felt something digging into the core of her. Sensation swam inside her head, panting to his lips. His cock was hard, straining for more.

      It might have been the violence of earlier or the quiet way Rider had taken charge of her mouth, but it was too much to her system and she never wanted it to stop.

      Even now he was sucking on her lower, lip, teasing her tongue into playing with his, hands leaving her hair he got hold of her ass, rubbing himself on her.

     Somewhere far away she heard a throat clear.

      And again, louder this time.

     "Rider..." she moaned, swept up in his savage burst of passion. Trying to detangle them, his mouth only chased after hers. Sucking her down some more.

      They groaned together. 

      She pulled at his hair, fingers scraping against his scalp, said his name again into his mouth before she successfully wrenched away.

     Preacher was stood right there, not even a foot away, looking anywhere but at the pair going at it grinding like two dogs.

      Well, this was a little bit mortifying was her assessment as she cleared her throat and looked anywhere but at Rider, she couldn’t handle the lust in his eyes as well as her own feelings at the same time. Zara's face fused to a deep red, she could feel the heat crawling onto her cheekbones. Embarrassed, she'd forgotten where they were, in the heart of the club with everyone around looking on. Oops.

      They all probably got a good eyefuck of Zara and Rider eating each other's faces off. Oh, Jesus. She slid herself down his body, and he kept her trapped there, between the bar and his harder body, his eyes boring into her.

     "Church is ready, Prez," Preacher announced, the smile in his voice, amused at what he'd witnessed. Zara avoided looking at him, sure she'd blush redder than her mother's home-grown tomatoes.

     "Be a minute." Rider told him huskily, eyes never leaving Zara's face.

      When they were alone, he cupped her hip, she felt the heat of it through her jeans.

      She felt marked.

      Well. So, that was how she showed him she was relieved he was okay by shoving her tongue down his throat as far as she could go. It was unconventional, she supposed.

      She should feel shame. Something along those lines. Instead, that light sensation continued.

     Embarrassed, for sure. Shame, not a bit.

     "I gotta go see to some club stuff, Icy. This isn't over." His deep timber issued, the noise incredibly sexy rattled his chest, and finally she looked up, his fingers under her chin tipping her head back, his thumb brushed her lower lip. His voice rougher this time. He repeated. "This isn't over."

     "Rider. Listen." Swept up in the momentum and the adrenaline, she'd been so glad to see him unscathed, that she'd launched herself into his arms before logic could reason her not to. That didn't mean anything between them had changed.

      “No. Icy. I mean it.”

      She pressed hands to his chest asking him silently to back up, to give her that breathing space where she didn't smell his skin. Thankfully he gave her that.

     "I'm not sorry I kissed you, don't think I am." she'd be lying out her ass if she told him it was a thank you, so she didn't. "This,” she motioned a finger between them. “isn’t a thing. Go to your meeting, your boys will be waiting." she smiled up at him.

      He scowled. His head cranked down. Deep set eyes. Beautiful eyes.

      She wanted to kiss him again.

      His scent was too masculine. His mouth tempting. This was crazy. She shouldn't be feeling anything like this not after… men just died.

     "Zara..." her name was a warning.

     Slipping out from under him, she could finally breathe, the equilibrium returning to her brain.

      Boy, Rider packed such a punch, almost taking her feet from under her. The man could kiss. The anxious feeling in her stomach fled, replaced with sharp longing.

     "Go." she urged with a smile. Funny how she could smile when the most atrocious crimes were committed tonight.

      Those same crimes had brought a peace to Zara's heart. It should make her no better than those monsters. She didn’t care.

     "I'm going to grab some sleep. And Rider? Thank you." Her pulse was rapping harder with his intense stare, but it went into free-fall when she watched his tongue snake out and lick his lower lip.

      Wet. Heat. Pulse.

     "No thanks, baby. Unless you wanna shove your tongue into my mouth when I get back to my room, then go for it, " he smirked a naughty twitch of his lips. She swallowed.  Watching his gait stride away from her in the direction of his meeting room, or church as they called it, that sacred private room god only knows what was discussed there, she thought it wouldn't be anything good.

     Outlaws were notorious law breakers. Outlaws who had broken several laws for her tonight.

      They were now her favorite outlaws.

      She smiled at his back, calling out. "Don't forget we're friends now, Rider."

      That stopped him, he twisted around so slowly, she could practically see the play of muscles and bones that aided the move. Lithe slick movement, he stood with his hands placed on his lean hips, his head canted to the side.

      He'd freed his hair between the barn and now, it hung thickly around his shoulders, parted down the middle. She'd never noticed while she'd been sucking his face off that he still wore a pair of black leather gloves. With arms bare, the contrast of colorful ink crawling up his left one and the leather gave him a roguish quality she found appealing. The same warmth bounced between her legs, pooled there, making her wet. Rider had such a way of looking at her with a thousand words in his eyes without having to speak them. The man breathed sensuality.

      His eyes were saying; absolutely not, Zara. No way, no how, we are not friends.

      But the man had committed murder for her. if that was not friendship she didn't know what was! She simply smiled, waved her fingers at him, and let him walk away cursing the air blue.

      Her friend was so silly.