***Faya***
I swallow against the tightness of my throat. Moving my head, I can feel the wind slapping my face. Where the hell am I? What’s happening? There’s rumbling beneath me, the heat of something that’s plastered against the front of my body. Wait. My eyes fly open. What the? I’m strapped against someone’s back. No, not someone, it’s the guy with the beard from the alley. My whole body freezes.
“Don’t do anything crazy, Pickles,” the man shouts over the roaring bike. “Not that there’s much you can do, but you catch my drift, yeah? We’ll be at my cabin in a few minutes. Then I’ll cut you…loose.” His chuckle rumbles straight through his muscled body.
Asshole. I’m dead either way. I saw this guy kill someone right in front of me. Not to mention the fact that this guy came for me, he said so himself.
Why the hell not make jokes, poke the bear, or what the ever-loving. “You’re a dick. Pick up speed and get it over with, instead of blabbering bullshit to stroke your own ego.” I make sure my lips touch his earlobe.
Okay, I admit…I sound like I have a death wish, but in reality…I don’t have a chance either way. So what if I let my tongue trail a path right after I told him off? He fucks with my head, I return the favor with the only language dicks understand. Sex, lust, release. And I’m hoping on my release…as in escape from everyone in this fucked up world. Maybe he’ll crash the bike and kill us both in the process…one can hope, right?
Sadly, he keeps the bike steady and doesn’t respond at all. I squint and try to take in the surroundings as it flashes by. It’s only sand, rocks, and darkness all around. I have no clue where I am or how long I’ve been out. We make a sharp turn to the right and slide through some kind of crack in a rock, or so it seems. Like we are driving straight through a cave.
It’s damn cold and I feel like a popsicle. The only heat I’m getting is from this muscled guy in front of me. I’m wearing black yoga pants, a dark gray sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big, and my pink comfy moccasins. Don’t judge. I was dressed that way when my roommate asked me for a ride.
She needed to swing by a guy she met a week earlier. No, that’s not completely the way to put it. She had a client, a job. She works as a high class call girl on the side. Or worked, seeing that fucker killed her. Right before my eyes I might add. Although at the time, he didn’t realize I was there. He thought she’d come alone. So when he shot her through the head, it took me four deep breaths before I hit the gas and hightailed out of there.
I went straight to the police station. Went through the roll of things and three days later, I’m still wearing the same clothes and on the run. Why? Because when they guided me out of the room where I gave my statement, I bumped right into Tico Borgio. Nice, right? Classic fuck-up. He gave me a smile that promised me my head would roll. Or maybe it was his thumb scratching an itch along his neck that pointed it out for me.
I never wanted this, any of this. I’ve been in the system ever since my parents died in a car accident when I was eight. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones. I had a shitty childhood where I learned to only trust myself. Why can’t I just live my life enjoying the little things? I don’t need a lot. Shit, what am I talking about, I never had a lot, so what do I know?
My piece of shit car that’s probably still parked at the end of the alley this asshole grabbed me from earlier…the tiny apartment I managed to pay for with busing tables, my wardrobe, the secondhand couch in the living room, hell…all of it isn’t much, but it was mine. I worked hard from the time I was sixteen up to the twenty-three year old I am now. Shit, with my fucked-up life I thought I’d seen everything.
Hell, even the shit with my roommate, Brianna, makes me realize everything can be gone in a blink of an eye. I didn’t really know her at all except for the fact that we worked at the same bar. About a year ago, Brianna was looking for a place to crash and I said she could stay with me. She paid rent and left me alone, we had a good thing going…well, until she got killed in front of me, and here I am, strapped to a biker’s back.
Not for long though, because he just stopped in front of a…brick and concrete thing? “Is that supposed to be a cabin?” I mutter.
I feel him rumble a growl and it makes me smile on the inside.
“Shut your pothole. I built the thing myself. There’s a tight crawl space underneath, wanna see? Or are you gonna play nice so you can sit on a fucking chair?” He barks out his words.
“As if I have a choice in whatever is left of my life,” I mumble.
A glimpse of steel flashes before my eyes as I feel something cold pressing into the skin of my neck.
“I said shut your pothole, cunt. I will end you here. You are dead on about not having a choice. You belong to me now.”
I feel his muscles tighten right before the knife swings. My eyes close and I brace for the pain. Except it doesn’t come. It always comes. Wait for it my mind tells me, making me brace some more. I hate waiting for it, when that happens it’s always so much worse.
“Open your goddamned eyes.” His voice is a growl.
I peek through one of my lashes. How did he manage to cut me lose? I’m still sitting on the bike and he’s standing beside it, arms crossed in front of his chest, angry as hell.
“Why the hell are you angry at me?” I can’t help but glare at him.
His fingers wrap around my jaw. “Who the hell hurt you in your past that makes you shut down like that?”
I rip my jaw away from his hand, my head drops and I swallow. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just get it over with, okay?”
He mutters some curses and before I know what’s happening, I’m being thrown over his shoulder while he’s stalking toward the cabin. That’s kind of impressive because my ass is huge and heavy.
My wrists are still tied and clearly, I’m no match to fight this guy. He’s an all muscled, tall, bearded, with dark hair hanging in long strings around his face, rough biker kind of man. With one hell of a nice ass. Well, from the angle I’m looking at it anyway. Shit. Where did my mind go? Oh, well...time is up, so I might as well enjoy the view, right?
I’m robbed from doing so when he steps inside and lets me slide down the front of his body. Evil asshole. The smirk on his face is telling me he did that on purpose. I’m not wearing a bra because I was going for comfort...three days ago. Ugh, that little fact makes me uncomfortable because...
“Can I shower before you kill me?” Did I really just ask that? Jeeeeezzz, Faya. Talk about getting your priorities straight. Personal hygiene before death. Uh, huh. Sounds logical, right?
“Your freckles light up when you blush. Fucking adorable,” he mutters while he spins me around and guides me toward a large window.
No, not a window, sliding doors that lead to a deck. And a...wow. “Is that a hot tub?”
“Yeah, I turned on the heat before I left. Should be perfect temperature.” He spins me around again as if I weigh nothing. His voice hardens when he adds, “Strip and get in.”
Asshole. If he thinks I’ll get embarrassed by getting naked in front of him, he’s got another thing coming. I hold out my hands. “Untie me and I will.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “Can’t break something that’s already broken, huh?” His voice is gentle as he palms his knife and cuts the rope from my wrists.
“You have no idea,” I mumble back and glare at him.
He gives me a tight nod. “Fair enough.” Again with that twitchy corner of his mouth. He lifts his chin. “Now strip and get in.”