CHAPTER FIVE

– HAYDEN –

Aggravation and frustration have soured my mood. When the fuck did my life get so damn complicated? I can totally pinpoint the exact moment, when Deanna entered my life. I went from not overthinking, uncaring, fucking random women without concern, to what feels like getting my cock slammed between a damn door every time I make a move.

I cringe at my own train of thought. Okay, that visual is too much, and I’m exaggerating, but feelings and emotions entering my life–and caring about a woman’s feelings and emotions–is a foreign thing for me.

“Drive a fucking cage,” I mutter in a grumble to no one in particular and stomp to my bike.

Swinging my leg over my bike I point at the SUV and snap, “Keys are in the ignition if you don’t trust–”

“Oh, would you swallow your tongue and choke on your ego while you’re at it,” Deanna snaps, grabs the hem of my leather cut and hops on behind me.

Normally, I wouldn’t have anyone talk to me the way Deanna just did. Especially not when others are around, but since we’re alone in the garage, and I claimed her as my old lady, I find it refreshing to have her speak her mind.

Yeah, I know, it makes me sound like a twisted fuck, but the woman drives me nuts. We simply collide if it’s with attitude, opinions, heated chemistry, and incidentally some damn fine discussions or easy chitchat. There’s no fluffy shit between us. We’re both direct and don’t give a shit about what the other might think; we keep it real and are completely ourselves without regrets.

The feel of her arms wrapped around my waist, her pussy and tits snug against me as she leans with me through a turn I take is an overwhelming feeling. Something that sure as fuck doesn’t need an explanation because I know damn well what that means; she’s the one. My person. My counterpart even if it seems as if we can’t stand one another.

Hell, we’re on our way to torture someone together, it doesn’t get any more fucked-up than that. A smile slides across my face and somehow the ride to the place we stashed the Tar Lines’ biker lightens my mood. By the time I park my bike around back I’m feeling damn near perfect and am itching to get inside information about Tar Lines.

“Do we need to stick to any rules?” Deanna asks when I let her inside the building. “Oh, hey, Beck. Everything okay? Did they make you babysit?”

Deanna and Bran spent days on lockdown at the clubhouse and know all the members of this MC, including the prospects.

Beck grins. “You know it.”

I lift my chin in greeting at Beck, who has been here all night. “No need to be nice to the prospect, wifey. He’ll do whatever you ask him to do ’cause it’s his job, and you’re my old lady.” Catching the glint in her eyes I add, “After consulting with me first, of course.”

“Of course,” she grumbles, making me chuckle.

“What rules were you asking about?” I wonder, turning our discussion back to the question she threw at me when we entered, while I point in the direction of the basement.

She bounces her head, making her ponytail move to the beat. “Yeah, you know, don’t make him bleed too much due to spatter and messy shit, don’t break bones, don’t kill him. No eye poking, obviously don’t cut off his tongue because then he can’t spill the beans.”

I snort out a laugh. “Maybe just stick to no cutting off the fucker’s tongue, or killing him just yet, okay?”

“Okey dokey, no massive injuries, gotcha,” she quips, way too fucking cheerfully for a sane person, if you ask me.

Her smile is full-blown when she glances around the basement. “I should be creeped out by all the precaution and how professional it looks. Makes me wonder if this is a regular thing for you guys based on how easy and fast everything is set up. All the while you guys also have a room behind the clubhouse to do this in. Damn. All of it is giving me a rush of excitement.”

I take in the large space where the biker is strapped to a chair with a hood covering his head, and try to picture it from her point of view. The plastic sheets make a perfect square box to keep blood spatter to a minimum and allows an easy cleanup. In front of the plastic square is a metal box, the lid is open and shows different kind of tools and weapons.

The grin I shoot her comes naturally. “Wanna put on a white jumpsuit to keep your clothes clean?”

“Oh, come on, now you’re just shitting me.” Chuckling she adds, “Yeah, gimme one of those crime scene thingies. It has a hood, doesn’t it? I hate to have blood and chunks of flesh in my hair.”

Stalking to the small closet in the corner, I take out a jumpsuit along with a few boot covers and hand her the items. All I do is protect my boots in case if I have to step into the plastic cube. For now, I decide to leave the torturing to her and see what kind of information Deanna can squeeze out of this fucker.

“How do I look?” she questions.

There’s a smile in my voice when I tell her, “You look sexy in anything, darlin’, ’cause I know what’s hiding underneath.”

She rolls her eyes. “We’re not going to free willy-wiener during this bloodbath, hubs. So, keep him in your pants.”

A bark of laughter escapes me, and I barely manage to grunt, “Noted.”

Her lush ass is thrown back when she bends over to roam through the variety of weapons and tools in the metal box.

I’m still staring when I hear her voice, “Really? There’s not much ass to check out in this white sheet covering it.”

I shrug. “And I mentioned knowing what’s hiding underneath.”

Deanna shakes her head while stepping into the plastic square. I wasn’t paying any attention, other than watching her ass, and it doesn’t seem like she has any weapon in her hands, other than the roll of duct tape shoved around her wrist. Shit. I really need to pay more attention.

She rips the hood off the biker’s head and her voice carries a hint of a nice undertone when she says, “Okay, do you feel chatty or should I motivate you first before you’ll start telling me everything I want to hear.”

“You,” the biker sneers. His gaze slides over her shoulder in my direction. “Is Areion Fury letting women handle business? Must be a real pussy club if a cunt is handling business.”

If I would have blinked, I wouldn’t have seen Deanna punch the fucker in the gut, that’s how fucking fast she is.

The biker coughs and groans, making me chuckle. “No pussy club, we just have old ladies who are just as tough as us and have inventive ways to torture, especially my old lady.”

“I’m not a rat,” the biker snaps and looks at Deanna. “I don’t betray, and I sure as fuck won’t kill my own family or blood.”

“We’ll see,” Deanna states and rips off a piece of duct tape to cover the idiot’s mouth.

I take a few steps to the side to get a good view. Deanna throws the roll of duct tape out of the plastic square and I now notice the razor blade she’s holding between her fingers. Intrigued, I watch her slice through the black t-shirt. He was already stripped from his leather cut when he was tied to the chair.

The biker is now bare chested and I watch, intrigued how Deanna’s other hand is holding tweezers. She’s…oh, fuck. I cringe and barely manage not to cover my pecs with my hands when the woman snatches the biker’s nipple with the tweezers and pulls so she can cut it straight off with the razor.

With a splat it lands on the plastic. The fucker’s muffled grunts and curses come from behind the duct tape, more following as she cuts off the other one. She lets the razor and tweezers fall from her gloved fingers.

Her gaze connects with mine. “Be a doll and grab me the salt I noticed in the trunk.”

“Sure, babe,” I kindly tell her and stroll over to do my woman’s bidding.

As expected, she throws some salt into the bleeding wounds where his nipples once were, making the fucker groan and squirm some more. I watch, intrigued, as she picks up the duct tape and rips off a piece. She covers the wound and rubs it hard to make it stick to the skin before she rips it off in one go.

The fucker screams louder. Deanna giggles. I swear to fuck, she giggles like a schoolgirl having fun with her friend. I haven’t heard her giggle in all the time I’ve been near her. She repeats it a few times with each nipple and when the fucker squirms too much? She throws some salt in the guy’s eyes.

Without a word she turns and stalks to the metal box, takes something out and states, “I’m ready for the next round, but I’ll give you a chance to give me something that’ll give both of us a break, if you know what I mean.”

The duct tape is ripped from his mouth and the fucker starts to curse her out. Bad fucking move, and he realizes the error of his ways when she punches him one in the eye.

“Didn’t your momma teach you to watch your mouth?” Deanna snaps.

“No,” the biker grits. “All she did was take cock, that’s a cunt’s job and all they’re good for. You’re a pathetic version of your mother, at least in the end she knew her place. No wonder you turned out to be a ball-busting bitch, you were raised wrong.”

I take a step closer. Part of this fucker’s rambling snagged my attention.

She hits him again and snarls, “What the fuck do you know about raising people right, asshole? Trying to shoot people off the road, being a part of a club that kills someone’s father. Yeah, you’re one to talk. And for your information, my mother left when I was barely a year old. Talk about my mother some more if you want the torture to continue.”

“Deanna, a word,” I rumble.

She doesn’t turn when she states, “Can’t you see I’m a little busy here?”

Dammit. I guess it doesn’t matter anyway ’cause in the end we’ll question him about it anyway.

Stepping closer to both of them I address the asshole. “You knew her mother, didn’t you?”

The fucker grins, showing bloody teeth. “The whore only lasted six years, but I guess it was enough for Prez, ’cause by then Loco didn’t need a tit or a female to soften him.”

Fuck.

“No,” Deanna whispers. Her voice comes out stronger when she snarls, “You’re lying.”

“Am I?” the fucker taunts.

Deanna’s suddenly holding the razor blade again and is repeatedly slicing the fucker’s skin. Tiny nicks by the looks of it. Now it looks like she’s fileting his hands. Hell, I have no clue what she’s doing until she discards the razor blade and digs her fingers into the…is she? Damn. The fucker screams while Deanna is pulling strings. Well, not strings, but she managed to expose nerves.

“Ulnar nerve, Median nerve,” Deanna casually states. “Let me tell you a little story. I didn’t give two shits other kids in my class had a mom and dad when I was growing up. You know why? Because I had a father who was both all rolled into one. Parenthood isn’t about having a mother and a father; it’s about providing for the needs of a child. A solid family and support can have many forms. At the end of the line, it all comes down to making sure a child grows up to become the kind of person they want to be. Take me for example, you know, because you decided to lie.”

“I didn’t fucking lie,” the biker snarls.

Deanna sidesteps and snatches the duct tape from the floor, rips off a piece and covers the biker’s mouth. “I’m talking, you’re going to be on a time-out until you give me a reason to fucking believe you are telling the truth.”

“Now, where was I?” she muses and picks up the tweezers.

She’s definitely the one who’s pulling the strings around here, totally pun intended.

“Ah, yes, me growing up with a father who taught me everything. How to cook, clean, wipe my ass, get dressed, take care of the garden, drive a car, bike, motorcycle, handle a gun, a knife, whatever weapon out there, and gave me all the information and abilities to turn my own body into one. I spent hours learning about the human body to use the information for training specific muscle groups.” She looks back at me and grins. “Knowing where nerves are comes in handy, don’t you think?”

“Fucking perfect, love,” I croon with a load of lust in my voice.

She throws the tweezers in the fucker’s lap and stalks to me. My own desire is mirrored in her dilated pupils. Fisting the fabric of my shirt, she pulls me down for a kiss and I go willingly. Desire heats my veins and I groan into her mouth.

Sliding one hand to her ass, the other at the back of her neck so I can guide her head, I pull her flush against me. Our tongues collide and I take my time to explore her mouth, enjoying every moan I can draw from her.

Everything else in the room disappears from our mind. It’s just us and the heated chemistry we create. This connection between us is unique. Hell, I only know a handful of women who can hold their own in a bloody mess, and even less who can take lead during a torture session.

This woman gets me rock hard just looking at her and ready to blow whenever she puts her hands on me. I ignore the muffled sounds, not caring one single bit ’cause the woman I’m holding in my arms is what matters, anything else can be put on hold.

Until I hear a muffled sneer. “You fucking dirty whore.”

Anger flushes some of the lust out of my body and I rip my mouth away to snarl, “No one calls my old lady a whore and gets to breathe to form another word.”

I try to move toward the dead man when I’m being held back. “No, no, no. Remember the rules, Hayden. No killing.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” I grit. “He needs to die. Now. I don’t care if he has any information, he disrespected you and that’s the last thing he’ll ever do.”

“You’re so stinkin’ cute,” she huskily says.

I rip my gaze away from the piece of shit tied to the chair and stare down at Deanna. “Cute? For fucking real?”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “Yeah, hubs, cute.” Raising herself on her tiptoes, she brushes her lips against mine and instantly steps away. “You’re very hard to resist once we put our hands on one another. Go stand in the corner while I wrap up here. Then we can go back to your house and have sex. We do need to get some condoms, though. No more fucking bare.”

“I’m not gonna put anything between us,” I grit. “My cum is still inside you, there’s no need to wrap up.”

She shakes her head and huffs. “Don’t annoy me when I’m still horny.”

“We haven’t done any hate fucking yet.” I grin.

Her husky chuckle fills the basement. “Bound to happen sooner rather than later.”

She gives me a view of her ass when she turns and rips away the duct tape that was already hanging half loose on the fucker’s face.

“I wasn’t lying. Prez brought his woman back to the clubhouse when he found her again. He didn’t know you existed until he saw you fight at Whispering Oaks Valley. We wouldn’t be here today if it wasn’t for the cops showing up after the fight.” He shakes his head with a load of disgust on his face. “The bitch didn’t tell him she was pregnant when she ran from him all those years ago after he raped her.”

Deanna stumbles back while I move forward. I’ve read Deanna’s file and know the details of that night. There was an anonymous tip about a man found beaten and dying at Whispering Oaks Valley. Broken Deeds was on a case involving underground fighting and were close by.

They were the first on the scene and it was Deanna who was giving the injured man CPR. She was dressed as a fighter and kept her mouth shut, just like her father who was also there. The report was kept under wraps because those two saved a man that day and Broken Deeds wanted to bring down the underground fighting ring.

I grab the fucker by the throat. “So, you’re saying my woman was born because Figo raped her mother? If what you’re saying is true, then killing off the man she grew up thinking it was her father was murdered because Figo wanted his daughter back.”

Deanna sucks in a sharp breath behind me while I stare the man down in front of me.

“Yes,” he croaks and I can feel him swallow against the palm of my hand. “I’ve got nothing to lose here. I’m a dead man either way. By now my brothers will know I’m missing, that you guys took me. It won’t matter if I gave you the address we were staying at because they won’t be there. Your woman killed our president. Her own father. Loco will step up and he’s more twisted than his father ever was.” His eyes go over my shoulder. “He wants her, and not for the same reasons Prez wanted her.”

“And what reasons would that be?” I grit, deep down a wave of disgust flares up, already knowing the answer before I hear the actual words.

“He wants her as his whore.”