Chapter 17

CHAPTER

SEVENTEEN

CLINK

Everything fuckin hurts, but I suck it up as I watch Atomic limp across the parking lot to the hotel room. I need to get the fuck out of Knoxville, but I’m not sure if I’m going to be able to ride all the way back to Texas.

Pineville seems like a whole fucking lifetime away at this point. I don’t think I could fucking make it there and live. I’d probably die along the way. But then I think about Dillion and all the fucking shit that entails.

I have to get back to her. I’m not concerned with her safety, and nobody even knows that I’ve claimed her yet, so she’s not a target. Still, I should call her and make sure she’s okay, but the thought of telling her that I was stabbed over the phone doesn’t appeal to me.

“What the fuck is this shit?” Atomic asks as he grunts and moans into the room.

I almost laugh, but it would hurt too goddamn bad. “This is us getting fucked over by the Demon Guns,” I point out.

“Shawn and the girls are safe,” King announces. “My dad is going to take care of Vixen’s sister,” he adds.

Atomic nods his head, hissing as he sinks down in the chair in the corner of the room. He’s hurting just as much as King and I are. I open my mouth to ask him what we’re going to do next when there is a knock on the door.

Turning my head, I watch as King lets Gnaw and Guts into the room. After some small talk, it’s time to get down to business, which I’m glad for because fuck me, we need to figure something out.

“We cannot sit around much longer. We need to make a plan,” Gnaw growls.

I don’t blame him. He probably wants to go home to his woman, too. I would fucking love to get my dick sucked right about now. And if I’m being completely honest, I want to feel Dillion’s cunt around me.

I want to hold her and kiss her—as pussified as that shit sounds. And I know it does, but I don’t give much of a fuck because she’s mine.

“What happens now?” Guts asks. “We need to get back home, but none of you are fit for traveling.”

He’s not wrong about that shit at all. I am not fit for fucking much right now. Sitting up hurts. I can’t imagine riding my bike. The thought of going over even a single pothole makes me want to cry out in pain. I’ve been in plenty of fights, had bruised and broken ribs, black eyes, swollen everything, and even suffered gunshot wounds, but this is different.

“Have you heard from the clubhouse?” I ask.

Gnaw nods once, then clears his throat before he continues. “Talked with Rim. The girls are all accounted for except…” His words trail off, and for whatever fucking reason, my stomach twists. His gaze flicks to me, and that’s when I know something is really fucking wrong.

“What?” I demand. “Who?”

I can guess what he’s going to say, or rather, who, but I want to hear it from his mouth. I want to know what the fuck is going on immediately.

“They can’t get ahold of Dillion. She hasn’t been to work, she hasn’t been at her place?—”

“Work?” I ask, interrupting him.

“Work,” he says with a single nod.

I’m not sure what the fuck he’s talking about. When I left Pineville, Dillion didn’t have a job, but now she’s working? I don’t understand what the fuck is going on. I’m so goddamn confused. I need him to clarify this shit and do it now.

“Where?” I demand.

He shifts his gaze to the side, then slowly lifts his eyes to meet mine. “Sal’s.”

I can’t control the way my body starts to tremble. I can’t control myself because the thought of my woman working at Sal’s sends me into an absolute fucking rage. Kyle runs the bar, and that’s fine, but I highly doubt Sal needs another waitress in that section.

The only thing I can imagine she’s doing is stripping. And I will be goddamned if my woman takes off her clothes for money.

God. Fucking. Damned.

Not my woman.

I didn’t have the time to tell her what it meant to be mine, to talk to her about the rules, mine and the club’s because as much as we live in a free-flowing type of society within the MC, we also have basic rules.

As much as I can’t blame her for getting a job to pay her bills, at the same time, I want to wring her fucking neck. I’d pay her bills, but I didn’t have the time. So basically, that’s what the issue is here. I haven’t had the time to tell her what is expected. I was too fucking busy playing games and having fun with her.

It bit me right in the ass.

Right in the goddamn ass.

Fuck.

“We need to get the fuck home,” I grind out. “Where the fuck is she? Has anyone looked?”

Guts and Piston share a glance, but I don’t like the look they share one little fucking bit. My body is vibrating with anger. There’s nothing I can do about it, either. It does not instill confidence in this situation at all whatsoever. I open my mouth to ask what the fuck, when Piston chimes in.

My body is vibrating, on edge. As the adrenaline fills me, I can’t help but wonder if I could make it back to Pineville. The pain is ebbing, and now I’m just anxious to get home to my woman—to find her.

“Me and Guts were thinking about heading home and grabbing an SUV along with a trailer to haul your shit back and transport you all. There’s no way you can fucking ride back to Pineville, none of you.”

He’s right. As much as I would hope that my adrenaline could carry me home, I have a feeling I would fall off my bike in pain before I even reached the Tennessee border.

The conversation shifts. They start to discuss the Demon Guns, Vixen leaving, and the Southern Mafia, but all I can do is think about Dillion and the fact that she’s been working at Sal’s and can’t be found. There’s something really fucking wrong with this.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I send her a text to check on her. I stare at the phone, waiting for a response as the men chat around me, but there is nothing. It doesn’t even say Delivered at the bottom.

What the actual fuck?

“I need to get home,” I announce. Slowly, I lift my head, my gaze searching around the room.

“Right fucking now.”

DILLION

I’ve never really thought about hurting someone, but I do now. I want to hurt Conrad. I want him to go away and never come back. I won’t go as far as to say that I want to see the life drain from his eyes, but I’m almost there.

He walks over to me, no, he slithers. His body moving like the snake he his. Then his knees bend, and he slowly crouches down in front of me. He reaches out. His fingertips lightly slide across my cheek.

He’s treating me like a wild animal he wishes to tame.

I’m not his to touch.

I’m not his to tame.

I’m simply not his.

And if Humble showed up right this second, I would tell him I’m not his either. As much as I wanted to be yesterday, I do not feel that way any longer. He lied to me. Lied about who he was, and not just the fact that he’s my secret lover, but everything else.

He doesn’t like me for me. He isn’t falling for me. He isn’t worshiping my body, my mind, or feeding my soul.

I’m just a thing to him.

A possession.

I’m not even a person.

“But that’s where you’re wrong, Dillion. I took your innocence, you bled for me, so you will always be mine.”

His words cause me to gag. The bile rises in my throat, and I’m seconds away from spewing all over him. I probably would, too, if I had any food in my body to actually throw up.

“That doesn’t make me yours. All that means is that I made a huge mistake when I was a teenager. I would have fucked anyone. You just happened to be around.”

And that is no lie. None at all. Because I would have had sex with just about anyone. I was desperate, and he gave me some attention. I planned to never see him again, and it would have come true had he not taken me—the ass.

Conrad rips his gentle hand from mine, and before I realize what’s happening, I feel hot pain radiate against my cheek, then a sting. He slapped me. Lifting my hand to cover my cheek, I can feel the heat of my skin almost instantly.

I’m not surprised that he hit me. These are the kind of men I grew up with, and he’s part of them. I’m more surprised at the fact that it took him this long to do it. My gaze finds his, and I arch a brow, giving him nothing, even though my eyes are burning with unshed tears.

I don’t care.

I would never give this man the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

“You are mine, Dillion. It’s not love because I don’t even fucking like you. It’s the simple fact that he cannot have you. I won’t allow it. I’d rather kill you.”

Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I decide not to say anything to him in response. There’s a lot I could tell him about his little speech, like the fact that I would rather kill myself than allow him anywhere near me again, but I doubt it will get to that.

“What are you trying to accomplish here?” I ask. “Because this isn’t really about me.”

I’m trying my hardest to ignore the pain in my cheek. It throbs, though, as I attempt to focus on Conrad. “It comes down to this, and I’ll tell you because you’ll never have the opportunity to repeat it to another soul.”

Closing my eyes, I roll them to the back of my head before I open them and refocus on him. I push the pain, the aches, and the fear out of me and focus on this situation. There is a lot more going on than what he’s saying.

“The Demon Guns came to me with an offer I couldn’t resist. They want the Dark Horse MC gone, and before I realized they had you, I didn’t care either way. Now, I won’t be sad to see them go.”

“What’s the offer you can’t refuse?” I ask. He’s talking, so I’m going to keep that going for as long as possible.

He arches a brow, and if he’s on to me, he doesn’t say anything. Conrad isn’t dumb, though. He knows I’m getting information out of him, and if he didn’t want to tell me, he wouldn’t. He’s indulging me in an effort for me to drop my walls.

I won’t.

Not ever.

I will always hate this man.

“They will not only transport women for sale. They’ll also procure them, and they are willing to take a lot less. Like nothing, as long as I supply them with drugs and women.”

“Wouldn’t that be taking profit away from you?” I ask.

I’m completely disgusted by this whole conversation. I do not understand what’s happening here. I mean, I do because I know what the Southern Mafia is, but I had always thought they only accepted willing women.

Now I’m wondering if that’s not quite the case, and my skin feels itchy at the thought. I want to claw myself. I want to scream. Cry. Throw up. Everything. My stomach twists at the thought of what his words mean.

“They’ll be taking the women we can’t sell, and they’ll be giving us girls we can’t necessarily sign up to agree.”

Now, that makes sense.

The assholes. All of them.

“But the Dark Horse wouldn’t do this?” I ask, hoping and praying that his answer is no.

“They have a line that they’ve drawn in the sand. Our agreement already tiptoes that line. It’s better that they’re gone, but the Demon Guns won’t just let us end the contract. They want them obliterated. So I agreed. And now you’re here with me. And that’s that.”

I’m not an idiot. I wasn’t born yesterday, and I know without a doubt that this man is going to do whatever he does with women. He’ll sell me, somehow. Even if I’m hurt and angry with Humble right now, I know he’s my best bet in getting the hell out of here. I just hope he can find me before it’s too late.