Kelso

“Fucking hell!” Hitting the steering wheel hard, I maneuver the car to the side of the road as the police cruiser lights still flash behind me. I’m not surprised when it’s Parks who steps out of the cruiser. Arrogant fucker scans the area, taking his time before he walks to my window.

Parks says nothing as he stands leaning on my side mirror. His expression is blank as he stares down at me through his aviator glasses.

“For fuck’s sake. Do you assholes honestly have nothing else to do than each other’s dirty work?” I’m pissed off. Fucking furious. Not because my time is being wasted, but because if this is Ivy’s father’s doing, it will hurt my girl, again. I’m so sick and tired of seeing Ivy hurt. 

“Out,” he barks. 

Gritting my teeth, I step out of the Dodge and slam the door. I lift my chin and narrow my eyes. “You’re wasting your time. You’ll never get the girl, because the girl is mine. My cock still smells of her.” 

At my words, Park comes alive. His lips curl up into a sneer as he reaches for me, slamming me down on the car. My chest hits cold metal, and he holds my head hard against the hood. 

I laugh aloud. I know this routine. I’ve been pulled over and cuffed enough times to know I’ve done nothing for Parks to keep me. I’ll be free and back in my car in ten minutes.

Except I don’t feel cold metal against my flesh. A type of plastic material pushes my wrists together, cutting into my skin. Zip tie.

“What the fuck?” I breathe out in shock and push back on Parks. 

He stumbles back but rights himself quickly. With both hands he grabs hold of my shirt at my neck, attempting to control me. He’s not strong enough though, I’m still able to thrash around, and I can hear Parks grunting, his chest heaving as he attempts to overpower me.

My shirt tears and Parks grips one of my biceps and flings me around. I fall to the ground, my left side scraping against the gravel. 

Grunting, I quickly search the road, left and right. Cars drive by, but no one is gonna pull over and help a heavily tattooed man fight off a police officer. I’m screwed. I yank at the tie on my bound wrists; my skin rips from the plastic biting into my flesh, but the tie doesn’t loosen. 

Parks rolls me to my back and raises his right fist. His clenched knuckles slam into my face, and pain explodes along my jaw as a metallic taste fills my mouth. 

Spitting out the blood, I push the pain aside as rage simmers through my veins. I narrow my eyes on Parks, imagining what I’ll do to him when I get free, how I’ll enjoy his cries of pain as I break and twist his bones. I promised myself a long time ago I would never be powerless again. If someone ever tried, I’d show them what agony truly feels like.

Parks stares at me with cold eyes, his face twisting into a sadistic grin. He lowers his mouth to my ear and says, “Your filthy hands will never touch Ivy again. You’re a throwaway toy that has been used a little too much. You have old-man pedophile smell all over you.” He ends on a snarl. “I’m gonna do you a favor and end your miserable life.” Park leans back, his knees pressing down harder on my abs. “No more bad memories and nightmares,” he states in a mocking tone. 

My body goes motionless. Time stands still.

No. No. No. No. She wouldn’t. Ivy would never betray me this way. She promised me. 

Nausea fills my stomach and my body feels as if it’s burning from the inside out. Parks knows somehow. He knows my weakness. My shame. He’s told God knows who else. My mind races with how I can contain this; how do I stop people from talking and knowing my humiliation? My family’s disgrace.

Parks barks out a laugh and stands. Bending, he pulls me up and walks me to his car. My legs aren’t fluid; my steps wobble. I don’t fight. Without my arms free I don’t stand a chance. 

As I sit in the back of his cruiser, my mind rebels against the idea of Ivy breaking my trust, my heart. She wouldn’t. My breathing quickens and I use every muscle in my body to stifle the hurt thumping through my chest. 

I should have been watching Parks instead, because if I had I may have been able to block the hit from his baton against my temple. Light flashes behind my eyes as my body goes into shock, stunned by the sudden attack. Falling unconscious, all I see is Ivy’s face, her reassuring smile. Out of the two of us, all this time, it was me who should have been afraid of her. Ivy’s sweet smile turns ruthless, and the beautiful redhead I’ve fallen in love with becomes my worst nightmare.

* * *

As my eyes open, I’m met with a throbbing pain in my skull and rough carpet against my cheek. Groaning, I cup my head with my tied-up hands. They’re now tied in front and not behind. What the fuck happened? 

Pushing my body up with my arms, a sharp pain in my neck causes me to clench my eyes closed. Grunting, I rub my temple, attempting to silence the thumping behind my eyes. I take in a deep breath, expel it, and open my eyes all the way. 

Warmth from the sun flows in through a bedroom window that has pink curtains hanging on either side. Scanning the room, I find a small bed covered in dolls and purple sheets, flowers decorating the coverlet. 

Still holding my head, I stand. Looking to the other side of the room, I see a dresser and mirror with a fluffy white chair. Spinning slowly, taking small steps, I see varying shades of pink, red, and purple. Clothes and toys are scattered carelessly around the room. What the fuck am I doing in a kid’s bedroom? 

The door to the room opens and a man I don’t recognize comes into view. I examine him quickly: burly looking and probably ten years my senior. He’s dressed in dark jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black vest. His hair is tied back into a ponytail and he has a short beard. 

He smirks and yells, “We got a live one.” 

I brace, ready for a fight, but my eyes stop on a patch sewn to his vest. Anamosa Original. My eyes slide to the left. Lifetime Member. 

Fuck. 

Bikers.

Relaxing my body, I stand straight, lifting my chin and dropping my zip-tied wrists in front of me in a nonthreatening gesture. Bikers pack guns and have little care for the lives of those they don’t know. This is not the time for me to fight; it’s time for a chat. These assholes are working for Parks and most likely Sheriff Johnson, which means they can be bought. I need to offer them more than what fuckface has.

 Heavy footsteps in the hallway grab my attention. A man, similar in age to me and wearing the same vest and patches, steps in front of his friend. A Cheshire cat grin spreads over his face, and he rubs his hands together. “About time, now for the fun.”  

His friend crosses his arms against his chest. “Take him to the shed. Krazy will kill us if we mess up the girl’s room.”  

“Whatever the sheriff and Parks are paying you, I’ll double it,” I announce quickly, swallowing roughly and shifting on my feet, preparing to fight my way out of here.

The biker closest to me laughs aloud as he strides toward me and grasps my already ripped shirt. He drags me forward. The other biker doesn’t even blink; he shows no interest in my offer. “Boy, unless you got pull in the Marion County Sheriff’s Office, you got nothing we want.”

A heavy feeling hits my gut. A dirty deed for a favor from the deputy and his sheriff.   

The man at my back pushes me through the doorway. I plant my feet hard and spin, turning only to speak to the bearded biker. “What is it you need? My brothers and I can get it done. Let me go, give me Parks, and we’ll owe you the favor.”

The bearded biker shakes his head. “I’m a man of my word. I don’t go back on deals, but I will leave clues for your brothers to look at Parks for your murder. I’ll give them the revenge I know they’ll crave. The fucking cunt annoys the shit out of me, anyway.” 

He looks around me and in a gruff, irritated voice says, “Get him down the back, Grease. Now!”

I’m not fucking going anywhere. 

Pushing with all my strength, I shove Grease with my shoulder, into the bearded biker. They’re big men, so when Grease loses his footing he takes down the other biker with a loud bang and thud against the wall. 

I race down the hall, listening to the grunts and curses behind me. I take a quick right, hoping it leads me to a door. Any goddamn door. 

I end up in the middle of a living room. I halt for only a moment as I spot a raven-haired woman sitting on a couch. Her legs bounce as she bites her nails. Her eyes widen when she sees me, and then suddenly and secretly she points to her left. 

Without giving a moment’s thought to whether I can trust her, I sprint where she directed, finding a large wooden door. I grasp the knob with my tied hands and twist. It’s unlocked. 

Fuck yes. 

Swinging open the door, ready to bolt, I’m surprised by a man standing in my way. His eyes narrow and then darken. Quickly I take in his stocky build and his dark hair tied back into a man-bun, and an almost black beard that covers his lips. His leathers tell me he’s another biker, but the patch on the left says Road Captain. 

Tensing my shoulders, I barge right into him, using my right shoulder to push past him. 

“Fucking Jesus Christ.” The man grunts as he wraps his arms around my body, attempting to keep me in the doorway. I push with everything I have, and the man slides backwards on the gravel. My throat closes up, each breath hurting more than the last as I use all my body weight and every last bit of strength I have left. 

Grunting, the fucker pulls at my shirt, and then suddenly it’s ripped off my body as I continue to plow through the asshole. He curses when he realizes the shirt isn’t attached to me anymore, and quickly grabs hold of my short hair with a tight fist. I ignore the screaming pain in my scalp and twist my head around, grunting, my chest heaving. 

Then I’m thrown to the ground by two heavy bodies on top of mine. Powerless. I exhale, dizziness hitting me hard. Hands. Touching. Skin to Skin. Pinned down. My chest tightens. Air. There’s no air.  

Attempting to shake off the agony and keep the bile down, I close my eyes, steadying my mind and breathing in and out as smoothly as I can.

I’m pulled up to stand. My head bobs as my eyesight attempts to adjust through my clouded mind. I blink once, then twice to clear my vision. 

“You fucking dipshits. There’s two of you and one of him, and you can’t keep him in a fucking house?” 

“He caught us off guard,” Grease states in a taut voice as his grip on my arm contracts.

The road captain steps up to Grease and spits, “Don’t fucking give me excuses, just get the job done.” 

“Yes, Krazy.” Grease lowers his chin and eyes.

Krazy swings his eyes to the other biker. “I expected better from you, Brick.” 

Brick blows out a breath. “I’m too fucking old for this shit.”

Krazy laughs. “Not long now, brother, and we’ll have everything we want.” He pats Brick on the shoulder as he passes us. “Where’s my woman?” he bellows into the house as he disappears. 

Jolting my shoulders and gritting my teeth, I test their hold on me. 

Both men grasp my arms with two hands. Grease’s hot breath sears across my cheek. “Before, this was just a job. Now I'm going to enjoy hurting you, slowly.”

The two bikers drag me back into the house, through the living room, and to the kitchen. Both men still for a moment as we pass the road captain holding the woman against the fridge, her face swinging left and right to avoid his kiss. The woman's eyes are filled with rage and defiance. On the outside she appears weak, but the look on her face…. If she could manifest it, we’d all be burned to ashes.

I’m dragged kicking and thrashing to the shed. By the time the door is thrown open my chest is thick with heaviness and a sharp pain pinches with each breath I take. 

The shed looks like any other, two walls covered in gardening tools, and another has a counter filled with what looks to be motorcycle parts. His woman. Little girl’s room. This must be Krazy’s house. Fuck, the man has a family.

Pain explodes through my back as I’m forced forward, falling to the cold cement floor. Stars burst behind my eyes as the air in my lungs causes me to wheeze. Glancing up, I see Grease holding a shovel over his shoulder, a sick grin plastered on his face. Panic builds in my chest. Fuck.

Grease throws the shovel down and picks up a steel pipe. He slaps it in his hand, his eyes bright and feral. “I heard you like it up the ass.”

My heart chills and my limbs shake. 

They know. 

My torment. 

My weakness. 

They know exactly how to hurt me. How to destroy me. Has this always been my fate? My first memory of this world is one of anguish. Is this how it was always meant to end? Am I to endure the same as I take my final breath?

Out of nowhere a fist slams into my cheek. My head jolts and a sharp explosion bursts through my jaw. A hiss escapes from between my lips. Another blow, and my mouth fills with a coppery taste. Nausea builds, rising through my chest as the pain becomes overwhelming. 

Abruptly my hands are yanked forward, and I blink through the water in my eyes; not tears, liquid pain. 

By the time I realize what they’re doing, it’s too late. I have another zip tie attached to the one around my wrists, caging me to the metal bench.

Swallowing is a struggle; my throat is bone dry. Pushing the pain in my back and face away, I flail around, unsteadily standing and attempting to lift the table, but it doesn’t budge. Bolted to the fucking floor. I push my binds down, as if like a magic trick they will go straight through the steel of the counter. 

Laughter from behind causes me to still. 

Falling to my ass, I realize I can’t get out of this. I peer down at my wrists, and see blood covering the translucent plastic ties.

“I don’t have the stomach for your sick games, Grease. Tell me when it’s done,” Brick announces, and leaves the shed. 

 Grease grins, reminding me of the Joker, his eyes cold and feral with ill intent. 

Slapping the pipe in his hand again, he says, “Time to hear you scream.” 

Kneeling, Grease places the pipe on the ground and unbuckles my jeans. I kick and thrash, but it’s no use. He easily pins my legs under his calves, and in no time he’s pulling my jeans off, throwing them across the garage. He stares down at me, at the bulge in my black underwear, my vulnerable, sacred place. The glint in his eyes reveals everything I need to know. He’s sick, a motherfucking monster like Phillip was.

Ivy. How could you do this to me? How could you lay my secrets bare to these animals? 

I loved you. 

Adored you. 

My heart twists in ways I never imagined it could. Not breaking; demolishing until not a speck of emotion is left.  

As Grease takes the last piece of my clothing, I stare at the ceiling. Darkness and thorns wind their way inside my chest and around the dead organ. Ice seeps into my blood and veins, hardening anything that once was soft. Expelling a ragged breath, I promise myself, demand of myself to never trust again.