Chapter 6
Harley
For the past two days, I’d been hearing murmurs and talk about this man who had been kidnapped and was being held in the clubhouse somewhere. As usual, I tried to keep my head down and work. The last thing I needed was to overhear anything grotesque.
I was aware of the nature of work that was carried out by the MC. The kind of violence they were involved in, especially Caesar. But I never asked for details. I just didn’t want to know or get involved.
So, when Caesar came up to me while I was scrubbing one of the floors and said he had a job for me; the last thing I expected was this.
I’d already cooked for the other guys and the food was in the little makeshift kitchen in the back. Caesar took me back there and I was hesitant, afraid of what he was going to do to me there.
“Put some food on a tray,” he commanded, folding his arms over his chest. I did as I was told again. I arranged some food on a metal tray, a little bit of everything.
“You’re going to take this to the cellar. There’s a man there. Leave the food in there,” he said and without any further instructions, he walked away from me. I stood there in the kitchen for a few moments, twisting my hands together with nervousness.
I’d never come face to face with any of their other prisoners before. I didn’t know what to expect. But if I didn’t get this done on time, Caesar was going to find me later and punish me for it.
And if there was one thing Caesar loved to do in his spare time, it was to find ways to punish me. Usually it was always accompanied with threats of what he was going to do to me and how he was going to take Amanda away from me. How I would never see her again if I didn’t do exactly what he wanted me to do.
So, I carried the tray with me to the cellar. There was a guy waiting there at the door, talking on the phone. It seemed like he was expecting me because he said nothing and just unlocked the door and held it open. He continued to talk on the phone. I couldn’t even ask him what else I was supposed to do.
Breathing in deeply to settle myself, I stepped into the dingy cold room.
This was no way for a human being to survive, was my first thought. There was a musty damp smell in the air, and there was water dripping somewhere on the cold floor. One singular bright bulb shone overhead the man who was crouched by one corner of the wall.
I walked towards him, and when I came closer and saw him more clearly, my feet nearly froze to the ground.
This was not the kind of prisoner I was expecting to come face to face with. For some reason, I was expecting a monster, but instead what I saw was a handsome young man who was badly bruised and beaten.
I gulped, too shocked to say anything or move. I couldn’t look at him, in fear that he’d know what I was thinking. But he was looking at me. He was watching me closely, and his dark eyes seemed to pierce me. I felt like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Like he could look into my soul and see just how afraid I was…of everything.
I tried to keep my eyes turned away from him, but it was impossible because of the startling way he was looking at me. He had rich dark hair and a square jaw. He was battered and bruised, but his shoulders were big and wide. He was wearing a shirt that appeared to be torn, but it stretched over his muscles. I could see the tattoo sleeve on his right arm.
He was sitting down on the floor, but I could sense he was tall. Much taller than me. Without those bruises and cuts or the blood caked on his face, he would make heads turn everywhere he went. He was big and muscular, just the kind of man every woman would want wrapped around her in bed at night.
I couldn’t believe I was even having these thoughts right now. Feeling ashamed, I rushed to leave the tray on the chair and walk away—but he spoke to me. He said he wanted my help.
Once again, I froze to the spot. There was something about his voice that calmed me. I didn’t know what it was, but it made me feel safe. Even though he hadn’t really done anything.
He wanted my help?
He clarified. He needed my help with the food.
I stared at him, then noticed his hands cuffed to the pipe on the wall. I hadn’t seen it before, and neither had the other guys informed me that he was going to be chained.
He was right. He was definitely going to need help in order to eat. He didn’t have the use of either of his hands! How did they expect him to eat?
For a moment or two, I didn’t move or say anything and he continued to stare at me. It looked like there was something he wanted to say, but he had changed his mind. He was studying me.
“Will you stay?” he asked again and I gulped. Thoughts were racing through my head. Caesar hadn’t given me any instruction on what to do next. He hadn’t been specific. What if I was punished for even speaking to him? Caesar was capable of anything.
But I couldn’t let him starve! Not when I’d brought him food here and it was just going to lie there.
“Yes, I’ll stay,” I told him.