Never Kiss an Outlaw: Deadly Pistols MC Romance (Outlaw Love) (34 page)

Richard was weird and needy, but he'd kept me company, and he didn't seem like a total creeper. Besides, I was getting more tired by the second, and what harm would there be in one more ride home?

If he was really going to ambush me, he'd have done it in the mountains.

I'd let him drop me off in my neighborhood so I could stumble home. He didn't need to see my parents' huge house and get his hopes up about doing favors for a woman who was richer and prettier than he'd ever be.

Total bitch? Yeah, sure. And also a
very
tired one.

Jesus, I was drained. It must've been the mountain walk. By the time I got back to the table, I could barely make my knees work, and I covered a brutal yawn with my hand.

I wanted to go to sleep right there. Luckily, he settled our bill with a waitress who was probably bored out of her skull. She didn't even stop to laugh at his wise cracks.

Closing my eyes for a second took what felt like five minutes. When I opened them again, Richard stood over me, pushing his hand into mine.

“Damn, girl. You're crashing on me, ain't you? We'd better get you home. Come on.”

“I can stand,” I moaned weakly.

No, no, I couldn't.

The instant I tried, my knees buckled, and I slumped into his arms. He scooped me up like a sleepy kitten and carried me outside, pushing me into the passenger seat, complete with a ratty old pillow he'd fished out of the back.

“Hold up, I need to give you my address,” I said, struggling to remember the numbers in my own head as another jaw-popping yawn conquered me. “It's...uh...it's...”

“Don't think too hard, baby,” he growled, starting up his truck. “I already know where you live. Just go to sleep. You'll need that energy for tomorrow.”

What the fuck was this man talking about? Tomorrow? How did he know anything about me?

“Tomorrow? Huh?”

It felt like an entire hour slipped by before he answered me.

“That's the day you find out you fucked up bad tonight. I haven't picked up a new girl since Loretta left me when I was still a sad, broken little man, trying to make an honest living. That shit I told you at the diner tonight was true, but you didn't care. Nobody ever gives a fucking shit about some asshole hauling loads across the country. Whatever, baby, it's not your fault. You're a stuck up, rich little cunt, and I'm gonna give you something to care about.”

I tried to jerk up, tried to scream, but I couldn't seem to move anything except my eyes. What happened to me? I hadn't been alone with him in the diner at all, except when I used the bathroom twice.

Twice.
Goddamn it.

The first time, I'd come back, and our food was waiting for us. That had to be when he did it, slipped something into my food or drink, springing the trap he'd set from the very beginning.

The one I'd been too stupid and drunk to see.

“You...you lied.”

His high, shrill laughter split the night, and everything in my head started spinning. “What? Were you expecting hugs and kisses and free meals from strange men in the woods? I don't know what kind of stupid bitch you are, but you're
mine
now. Sleep tight, little girl. And by the way, the name's Ricky. It fits me now. You ever heard of a pimp named Richard?”

Ricky.
The last coherent thought before the blackness swallowed me up was knowing that I'd probably hate that name forever.

* * * *

O
h, how right I'd been. I knew it the next day, when he splashed ice cold water in my face, and I realized I was completely naked.

He had my driver's license in his hand, twirling it around like a wild card in some poker game he'd just won.

“Jeeesus H. Christ, woman! I think you've just made me the happiest man in the world.”

I glared at him, saying nothing. If it wasn't for the fear constantly churning in my stomach, I would've spit in his face. I hated his arrogance, his treachery, and my own stupidity, but I hated his cruel joy more than anything else.

“Let me go, Richard. It's not too late to pull back. You can drop me off with the cops, my family, I don't care. I just want to go home. I won't even press charges.”

Yeah, right.
He saw right through my hollow promises. Next thing I knew, his palm slapped me across the face, so sharp and sudden my whole head spun.

“It's Ricky, bitch. Get used to it. I'll let you off light because you're something else.” He paused and sniffed, staring excitedly at my license again. “You know, I really thought I'd hit the jackpot when I got myself a pretty mountain girl, all doped up and goddamned beautiful. But shit, you should've told me you were a Wilder girl sooner. Your pussy might make me retire early!”

Bastard.
I swallowed the hard, hateful lump in my throat and forced myself to look at him, ignoring the fiery sting on my cheek.

“You're going to ransom me, then? Let me talk to Daddy. I can get you the money faster than if you do it alone, I swear, he'll –“

Ricky cut me off with his nasty, shrill laughter again. “Oh, please. You really think I'd give you up for a few bags of cash, only to have a SWAT team storm in here and tear this place apart? I've got better plans for you, little princess. You're gonna make some rich, twisted motherfucker
very
fucking happy. I just gotta spread the news through the grapevine and find myself a buyer.”

My heart started pounding. I stood up, only to feel him throw me back down against the shitty bed, the flimsy mattress snapping against my spine.

“Don't do this, asshole! You have no idea who you're dealing with. You
will
pay, one way or another. My family won't let me go. My friends know where I disappeared. We can't be that far from town, somebody'll come looking and then you'll regret the night you saw me in that forest.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you're not the first bitch to say that, trust me. You're just the richest little cunt I've ever had in here.”

The richest?
For the first time I lifted my head up and took a good look around.

The door to the small room was cracked. Ricky sensed my hesitation, and he marched over, flinging it open. Across the hall, there was another room, also with its door wide open.

A dead-eyed, gray-faced woman sat on a bed, wearing nothing but cheap heels and torn stockings. She took a long look at me, pushing her long greasy hair behind one ear, and then turned back to her arm as if seeing a beautiful young woman with hot tears running down her face was completely normal here.

That passive, defeated look told me everything about the hellhole I'd fallen into. So did the rubber band around her arm. And so did the syringe she stabbed into her vein a second later, pushing it deep, until the junk hit her system and she let out a loud, heavenly moan.

“You starting to understand? A girl like you must have a fancy education. You're not stupid. Take a good, long look, bitch. That's your future. Only I ain't letting you have none of that junk. Gotta keep you happy and healthy for top dollar.”

I lost it. I couldn't bear to take another look at the miserable woman, holed up just like me, and I couldn't stand for the pimp to see me cry either. I buried my face in my hands, letting the hot tears come, until he pinched my shoulder so hard I looked up.

“Stop crying, beautiful. I won't let you get hooked on shit. You're too valuable to me. Shit, I'm gonna make every boy who comes in here use rubbers too. I'm not letting anybody fuck you up with damage, drugs, or disease while you're working off your rent. You'll be treated like a queen compared to these other junkie whores.”

I shook my head again. His cruel words blurred together, becoming incomprehensible. What the
fuck
was he getting at?

“What is this place?” My heart dropped another inch as I said it.

Deep down, I already knew.

Ricky stepped forward, wearing the same serpent smile I'd come to know too well, the one that strangled me, poisoned me, killed the woman named Megan.

“You kidding? Haven't you ever seen our billboards? Or are you one of those bitches who pays more attention to texting on her phone than the damned road when she's going down the highway?”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. He slammed it against the wall, smoothing it out before he pressed it into my shaking hands.

It took everything not to retch when I saw the outrageous, neon letters and overdone whore with her lips pursed on the cover.

LONG HAUL? COME UNWIND AT THE BIGGEST, BADDEST, HOTTEST TRUCKER SPA IN EAST TENNESSEE!

A trucker spa. A dirty, ditzy fucking whorehouse. And now that I was on the inside, it was even more miserable and soul crushing than I'd ever imagined.

“Jesus...help me.” It was the last thing I whispered before I took off running, flying into the cramped little bathroom attached to the beat up room.

Ricky held me like he actually cared while I spat out my guts. He reached over me when I was finished, flushing the bile down, a loud, harsh sound like the end of my life.

“There, there, baby girl. Be good for me. Get it all out of your system. Your first clients are coming this afternoon. I need those pretty lips clean and healthy for their dicks. I'll bet you suck a mean cock.”

I wanted to vomit again, but there was nothing left in my system. “Don't do this.
Please.
I'm a virgin.”

That got his attention. Ricky's eyes flickered, and the nasty smile he wore disappeared. He crouched next to me on one knee, grabbed my head, and pulled me close, until I was only inches from his evil face.

“You gotta be shitting me. A rich party cunt like you?”

I nodded, feeling my whole body shake. I didn't know if I was making another huge mistake, or telling him the only thing that might save me, but I was way past caring.

I had to get out of this. I didn't belong here. Megan Willow Wilder wasn't ever supposed to be reduced to sucking off strangers in a creepy fucking trucker's spa.

If only I could delay him, trigger some mercy deep inside him...

But when I opened my eyes again and looked at him, his eyes were small and black. Cold, cruel, lifeless as coal.

“If I find out you're lying to me, bitch, I'll fuck you myself. I swear it.” He reached for my chin, digging his fingers in so hard I could feel him on bone. “Last chance. You telling me the truth, or are you just fucking around?”

“It's true,” I muttered, my voice cracking as more hot tears came.

“Fuck. I never believed in miracles before, but I'm starting to think somebody up there loves me.” His sick smile reappeared, and he looked right through the ceiling, before turning back to me with the same vacant expression as before.

“Okay, Meg, here's what we're gonna do – you'll put those lips to work like a good little girl and earn me some money to keep you fed, clothed, and sheltered. In the meantime, I'll do my damnedest to land you a permanent home. It's out of my control the day I've got a buyer, but as long as you're here, I promise it'll be sane, sweet, and easy.”

Sane, sweet, and easy.
It wouldn't be the first time he used that phrase.

I'd hear it over and over again, almost every fucking day, whenever I was washing my mouth out with baking soda and water, trying to forget the foul taste of latex and cherry flavored lube.

“Take a couple minutes to yourself, baby. I'll bring you some breakfast, leave you alone to get your head straight. You haven't figured out why you're here yet, and that's okay. Give it a few more weeks, a month or two, and you'll understand.” His rough palm patted my cheek, and I slumped down, holding myself in a fetal position until I heard the door close behind him.

Alone. Defeated. Confused.

I didn't believe him then. It didn't seem like it was possible for me to ever understand anything again.

* * * *

S
ix months showed me how wrong I was. They showed me I didn't even know who or what I was. I'd been stripped down, rebuilt, recreated in sorrow and shame and dozens of anonymous cocks.

My ego, my self, my mind disappeared in a haze of sweat and smoke. My pimp gave me food, shelter, and weed. I'd never been much of a pot head before, but I smoked up without hesitation.

I used the stuff to take the edge off, to take me away from this hell for a few blissful hours. I took the only escape he offered.

Ricky kept his word. Greed held the bastard to his promises, the only thing that saved me from the wretched existence of the other girls I shared a brothel with.

He carefully controlled the men who used me, and he even went so far to test me each week, steering the roughest, dirtiest truckers and thugs to his other girls – all of them except the Deadhands he feared. I became the golden girl again, the same thing I'd always been, but this time there was no glamor or pride.

I was still a whore, a prisoner, and completely broken.

Every day I stumbled awake and rubbed my sore eyes, I wondered if I was dreaming this demented fairy tale. Ricky wasn't the only demon here.

The bigger ones showed up just a few weeks in, the first time the bikers came to the whorehouse. I learned not to stick my head out of my room and stare at the men from the Deadhands MC too long. Whenever I did, they started to ask Ricky uncomfortable questions about his 'hot, new piece of ass.'

The first time Big Vic came after me, the brute shoved his gun in Ricky's face, told him he wouldn't hesitate to kill everybody here if he tried to get in the way. The pimp caved, pleading for his life, and begging them not to ruin his pet project – me.

I realized I wasn't the only one here forced into prostitution. Ricky groveled to the bikers. He feared them.

One day, he warned me point-blank, told me that if they ever wanted more, he couldn't protect me anymore. They'd take my virginity and whatever else they wanted, and he'd let them, since the alternative was ending up in a shallow grave.

These were the monsters in my story, my life, an endless parade of them. Some days, they were all I saw. I wondered about the yin to my yang, all the joy bled from my life.