Hawk's Property: Insurgents Motorcycle Club (Insurgents MC Romance Book 1) (12 page)

Sighing, Hawk slipped off his pants and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

H
annah Jackson trembled
as tears rolled down her sun-kissed cheeks, their wetness bringing some comfort to her dry lips. The man’s back was to her, and she knew he was going to do horrible things to her. Already, he’d burned her with his cigarettes, the round, angry marks spotting her body. The pain had been excruciating, so she’d screamed. The louder she shrieked, the more he burned her, so she had bit her lips and tried to muffle her cries.

Hannah wished she hadn’t decided to walk home after working at Della’s Sandwich Shop. She should have waited for her brother to come pick her up, but Ricky, the guy she’d had a crush on since high school, said he’d come by, so she wanted to get home sooner to shower and change. Since she didn’t want him to see her in her uniform, she didn’t wait for her brother to pick her up, and then this guy drove up asking for directions. He had a map, and his overhead light was on. She couldn’t see the map so well, and when he’d asked her to get in the car to show him where he was, she jumped in. She wasn’t afraid of him at all—he had a nice face.

After showing him his destination, she reached to open the door when he stopped her. Before she reacted, he took out a gun, saying in a low, cruel voice, “Scream and your brains will be in your lap.” Hannah looked at him, and his kind features had contorted into something evil. Shivers ran up the back of her neck, and as they drove away from her town, Hannah wondered if she’d ever see her parents again.

At that moment, Hannah’s abductor moved toward her with a stun gun and two oversized dildos. Her eyes widened in fear as he knelt next to her prone form. Her arms were tied above her head and her legs fastened spread-eagle. He wiped away the tears on her cheeks and ran his fingers through her long, blonde hair.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said in a low, soft voice. Touching her, he placed a soft kiss on the base of her throat and she cringed. Sucking in his breath, his eyes misted with lust, he caressed her right breast then brought his mouth down over her burnt nipple, biting down hard. Hannah gasped from the pain.

When her torturer’s smooth hand found her genitals, he rubbed his finger up and down, tugging at the light hair on her dry lips. Lifting his head, he stared into her watery blue eyes. With a cruel smile, he brought the stun gun up to her breast and zapped her. Unbearable pain ripped through her body, and she screamed. Laughing without humor, he zapped her again. Her delicate body convulsed, her mouth went dry, all her muscles tightened, and as she was reeling from the pain, the monster grasped one of the dildos and shoved it into her private parts. Searing pain shot straight through to her head as her hymen broke. As she cried out, he jammed the dildo in her even harder and deeper.

“I’m going to fuck every hole you have, slut!”

When he forced the dildo higher, Hannah realized she was going to die. She knew her last moments on Earth were going to be agonizing, and all the things she wanted to do—fall in love, finish college, have a family—would never happen. She was going to die on that dirty mat in a cold warehouse, and her damaged and bruised body would be the last image anyone would see. Terror’s icy fingers seized her; she didn’t want to die. The agony came in torrents, and she longed for the torture to stop. The pain numbed her brain, and darkness took over as Hannah slipped away.

*     *     *

“What do they
mean, they lost the pre-raid photos?” Cara said.

“That’s what they told me. I quote, ‘The pre-raid photos have been misplaced,’ end of quote,” Asher answered.

“That’s a crock of shit! Maybe these photos were ‘misplaced’ because they don’t show any ammo on the table pre-raid? Dammit!”

“I know, boss. It sucks.”

“It more than sucks. I need to get those pictures. Neither of us believes this bullshit story, right?”

Asher nodded. Cara threw her legal pad across her desk. All of her suspicions of a frame job were confirmed. This was bogus. She had to get a hold of those photos.

“I think I’ll give Josh a call.”

Asher raised his eyebrows. “Do you think you should start that up again?”

“Josh and I are friends. We haven’t been romantic since before law school, like, seven years ago.”

“He still carries a torch for you.”

“Even better, because I need his help. Anyway, I’m hooking him up with Sherrie. She goes for guys in uniforms.” Cara picked up the phone.

“I thought she liked the bartender at the biker bar.”

“She’s moved on. He was too busy gawking at all the girls. I’ve got to call her. Ugh, I’m too busy.”

“With the biker boys.”

Cara rolled her eyes. “Make yourself useful and follow-up on the DNA testing in the Osman case. He goes to preliminary hearing in three days.”

Laughing, Asher left Cara’s office to start his work. Cara smiled to herself, thinking how she’d lucked out with Asher as her legal assistant. He was a perfect match for her personality.

Cara dialed Josh’s number. “Josh, hiya, this is Cara. It’s been a while, but I have a huge favor to ask you.”

*     *     *

Hawk, rubbing his
pulsing temples, cursed under his breath when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Opening the door with a towel around his waist, he motioned for Banger to come in. The president entered the small room, sat on a cushioned chair by the window, and looked out at the hints of yellow dotting the mountains. “Fall’s comin’ early this year.”

Hawk grunted. “I don’t think you came here to take in the view. What’s on your mind?”

“I thought I’d be interrupting a pussy session.” Hawk stared, stone-faced, so Banger continued, “I guess I should be wonderin’ why you ain’t eatin’ pussy right now. Shit, there’re ’bout four whores downstairs who are dyin’ to be ridin’ your cock. What the fuck?”

“You came all the way up here to find out if I was fuckin’ a slut? Why aren’t you fuckin’ one of them?”

“Already did.”

“I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Is it? The lawyer bitch did a good job. I didn’t think she could do it.”

“Why not? She’s smart and she knows her stuff. She’s way better than that crook, Les.”

“Why you callin’ Les a crook? He got us the licenses for the dispensaries and we’re making a shit load of money, legally.” Banger laughed aloud. “Remember what a pain in the ass it was when the club was dealing in illegal drugs? The badges were always snooping around, especially in Denver when the brothers would do pick-ups or deliveries. Now, the club’s making a ton of money by growing and selling weed. We live in a great state! Fuck, it’s too sweet. We’re pulling in millions, and it’s all legal. No more dealing crack and smack. It’s fuckin’ ironic.”

“Yeah, but Les wants a big piece of it. He’s taking almost fifty percent,” Hawk said.

“What? When did this happen? I gotta talk with him. No way are we paying him fifty percent. Fuck that greedy bastard!”

“Agreed. We should replace him with Cara. I know she wouldn’t cheat us.”

“How do you know she’d want to come in?”

“I can talk to her. Feel her out, you know?”

“Is this suggestion a hundred percent for the club, or you got personal reasons, too?”

Hawk narrowed his eyes. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“Don’t get your ass in a hitch. As prez, I need to know. I’ve noticed that you’ve taken an interest in her.”

“It’s for the club. My personal life is my business.”

“It is, but when it clouds your decisions, then it becomes
my
business. You have it bad for her. I ain’t ever seen you like this before. Hell, we’ve known each other for over eleven years, and you never let a bitch get to you. I see it’s different with this lawyer lady. Why don’t you just claim her? You want in her pussy and she wants you in it, so do the grown-up thing and claim her. Make her your ol’ lady, if you want.”

“My reason isn’t clouded by any bitch, okay? Again, this isn’t your fuckin’ business. I know you mean well, but stay the fuck outta my personal life. I don’t want an old lady.”

“Just sayin’, brother. I know what it’s like falling hard for a bitch. It grabs you. When I met Grace, shit, I knew I’d never look at another woman again. She was the best ol’ lady a poor sonofabitch could have. I lost her too soon.”

“Yeah, Grace was the best. You were lucky.”

“Ain’t that the truth. All I’m sayin’ is that you should either claim the woman, or move on. Although, why you’d want a smart-mouthed woman like her is beside me. She also comes from a different background, so she’s not used to the lifestyle. My Grace was born into it. This lawyer won’t give you a smooth life.”

“I don’t like smooth. I’ll figure it out.”

“I’m just sayin’, ’cause if she comes ’round here, she’s open game if she ain’t claimed. You know that.”

“No one’s gonna touch her. I’ll make sure of that.”

“Then claim her. No reason to have trouble over a bitch, right?”

Hawk’s jaw tightened as he nodded. “Good talkin’ to you, Banger.”

He opened his door and stepped aside. Banger shook his head and walked out before Hawk slammed it behind him. It took all of his strength to stay steady while Banger butted his fucking nose into his business. Hawk almost punched his president’s face in when he started his shit about Cara, and he seethed because he knew Banger was right—this woman was in his system. All his decisions revolved around her, and she was always in his head. He knew she was cautious because of their client relationship, but he didn’t think he could wait until his case was done. Just thinking about her made his cock spring to life.
Fuck.

*     *     *

Yellow tape roped
off the core area. The CSI tech arrived, blocking off an area larger than the core as deputies huddled, heads down, murmuring about the atrocious way the victim died. From their position, they could see the ligature marks around her small throat. The CSI began his systematic search for incriminating evidence, standing over the body of Hannah Jackson while performing a visual examination. He noted that she had been strangled. The cuts to her ankles and wrists indicated she had been tied up, as well as beaten and tortured, which he could tell from the other marks on her body. The blood between her thighs and at her anus pointed toward a strong possibility of rape and sodomy.

After hours of bagging evidence, combing the nearby woods, and sifting through the dirt for any clues, the battered and bruised body of Hannah Jackson was laid on the gurney. A white sheet covered her corpse. The ambulance doors closed. The lifeless form began its journey to the town morgue.

*     *     *