REIGN: A Motorcycle Club Romance Novel (26 page)

…but what if he
didn’t care if I was alive or not?

~
4
~

I must have fallen
into a deep sleep at some point after Gunner left; when I woke up, I was lying
on the mattress, my head was bandaged, and there was a sandwich and a bottle of
water on the ground next to me. I wondered how they expected me to eat the
sandwich with my hands tied.

I sat up and
squirmed slightly in my ties; to my surprise, I found I had much more room to
move my hands about. My wrists were tied to each other with a long piece of
rope, instead of crossed over each other like they’d been earlier. It was easy
to untangle myself at that point; I just pulled my legs through my arms so that
my hands were in front of me instead of behind. I picked at the top slice of
bread; peanut butter and jelly. I scoffed; they expected me to eat kids’ food?

The moment after I
had that thought, I realized just how silly it was. They could expect me to do
whatever they wanted me to. They were in charge now. The thought chilled me to
the bone. I couldn’t eat, even though I was hungry. I simply sat, staring at
the plate. Then, suddenly, I heard the door open.

“Have a good sleep,
doll?” It was Gunner, again. He entered loudly, making it clear that he meant
to wake me. I didn’t say anything, just stared at him. Even though I hated him
for keeping me caged up like an animal, I couldn’t deny the powerful attraction
I felt to him. Which was strange, for me, since I rarely felt that way towards
men; I’d had boyfriends, of course, and I wasn’t a virgin, but I almost never
saw a man who made me feel the way Gunner made me feel.

There was something
about his face, his build, the raw smell of him, that burrowed past all my
rational thought and ignited something inside me. I pushed the thoughts away,
determined to be angry and defiant. Gunner had brought a plastic folding chair
in with him, and he set it up not too far from the mattress. He sat down in it
and stared at me.

“Let’s have a
chat,” he said. What in the world could he want to chat with me about? “We’ll
be notifying your father soon. That we have you. It’s been a day and a half,
you know, that you’ve been in here. Sleeping. That knock on the head left you
with quite a bump. Sorry about that,” he said cheerfully.

“I’m sure you are,”
I said back, scowling. I considered, briefly, trying to use my newfound
semi-freedom to rush him, somehow hit him with my still-tied hands, but I
realized instantly how foolish that would be. There was no way I could fight
him off.

“Oh, come now. I’m
not such a bad guy. I’m just doing what’s best for my boys. They look to me,
you know, I
gotta
take care of them. But I’m not so
bad. Your Dad thought that, anyway, when he hired us to take care of a little
work problem he was having. Your Dad…now there’s a cold-hearted man for you. If
I told you what he asked us to do…well, you wouldn’t want to hear such a thing
about your dear old Daddy. I’ll spare you the details, sugar,” he was smiling
again.

“I don’t care what
my Dad did or didn’t do. It’s got nothing to do with me,” I said, almost
spitting the words out. Gunner kept grinning, but I saw his eyes flick over my
body. His expression changed slightly as he did so, and I could see his gaze
lingering on my chest and my exposed thighs; I was still wearing the short,
thin dress I’d had on when he kidnapped me, and I suddenly felt very exposed.

“I’m sure. But that
doesn’t change the fact that your Daddy owes us a pretty penny, and we need you
to help us get it. Which is why I’m in here having this chat with you today. I
need some of that pretty hair of yours. And I need you to do something else for
me,” he said, his eyes returning to mine.

“Like I’d do a
goddam thing for you,” I said with disdain.

“Well, I’ll take
the hair no matter what. And if you do what I ask of you, I promise to remove
those binds. You are
gonna
be the star of a little
video. We want you to tell your Daddy how much you love him and how much you
need him to save you. Holding today’s paper. Say a few nice words to your old
man, in exchange for full use of your arms and legs. If you
wanna
refuse, well, I guess we’ll just have to make do with a video of you screaming
while we mark up your pretty little body. The choice is yours,” he said coolly.

I stared at him, my
heart heavy with fear. This was all too real; but it was obvious I didn’t have
much of a say in the matter. I nodded, eyes filling with tears.

“That’s a good
girl,” Gunner said, smiling at me and standing up. “I’ll be back real soon and
we’ll get started.”

As he left the
room, I returned to staring at the plate with the sandwich on it. I knew I’d
made the right choice, that was obvious, but it felt weird to have been given a
choice at all. Moments later, the door swung open again and Gunner entered,
holding a pair of scissors, a newspaper, and a camera on a tripod. He silently
set the tripod up so that it was staring at me. I squirmed, suddenly very
uncomfortable.

Gunner walked up
the mattress and handed me the newspaper.

“Showtime, doll.
Hold this up and say some nice things about how you love your Dad and need him
to rescue you. Then I’ll cut you loose, okay?” Gunner said matter-of-factly, as
though it were the most normal thing in the world to film your hostage. I
nodded. He walked back to the camera and pushed a button; a red light came on.
“Action!”

I held the
newspaper out in front of me and racked my brain, trying to think of what to
say. Nothing came to me. It was like my mind was a blank slate. I opened my
mouth and began to speak, but I couldn’t say anything more than “Hi, Dad.”

“You’re
gonna
have to say more than that, doll,” Gunner said from
behind the camera. I shot him a glance and then looked back to the camera.

“Hi, Dad. It’s, uh,
it’s me, Serena. I’ve been kidnapped and, uh, I guess they need money, so,
like, can you, uh, pay them?” Gunner looked at me from behind the camera, one
eyebrow raised. He pushed a button on the camera again and the red light
disappeared.

“You
gotta
do better than that, honey. Come on, say something
nice to your father,” he said. I tried to think of the last time my father and
I had said something nice to each other. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d
told him I loved him, or the last time he told me he loved me.

“I don’t know if I
can,” I admitted, looking down at my lap.

“You better find a
way, doll,” Gunner said. I looked up at him and was surprised to see sympathy
on his face.

“My dad and I…we
don’t uh…we don’t really get along too well,” I said shyly. I was amazed at
myself for opening up to him so candidly; I’d never really spoken to anyone
about my relationship with my father before. His face softened as he looked at
me.

“You’re not the
only one, doll. But we think your Daddy will warm up to the situation if he
could hear you…”

“But I don’t love
him, and I don’t care about him!” I said, interrupting him. I bit my lip after
the outburst, surprised to hear myself speak the words, and even more surprised
that this would be the situation that caused me to speak them. Here, in this
dingy, dirty, tiny little room where I was being held captive, I was finally
faced with something I’d tried to avoid all my life.

“You don’t mean
that. I thought that too, one time. But you
gotta
understand, you feel that way now, but it’s different when they’re gone. You
love him. He’s your father,” Gunner said. He looked slightly pained as he
spoke, as though he were remembering something. It made me curious. He looked
down for a moment, then back up at me.

“Besides, you
ain’t
got no reason to hate him. He’s given you damn near
everything you wanted, hasn’t he, princess?” Gunner’s tone was different now,
colder, and his eyes looked hard and angry.

“So what? Having
stuff doesn’t make you happy, you know,” I said back, my own anger rising.

“You just don’t
know how bad you have it. So Daddy didn’t give you enough hugs as a kid? Some
of us wish our Daddy’s never touched us at all,” he retorted, and I could see
the rage in his eyes. He suddenly pulled up at the bottom of his shirt; I saw a
thick, red scar across his lean, muscled torso. I stared at it for a moment
until he pulled his shirt down.

“Did…what
happened?” I asked, unable to keep the question from my lips. I wasn’t sure
what was going on; was this some kind of weird therapy session? I could tell
that Gunner was just as taken aback as I was by his actions; he looked down at
the camera, a puzzled look on his face.

“I don’t…I don’t
know why I did that. Forget it. Just look at the camera. And try to say
something nice,” he said, not meeting my eyes. The red light came on again and
I pulled my eyes away from Gunner towards the lens. Gathering my wits, I tried
to think of what to say that would please him.

“Hi, Daddy, I’m
really afraid and I want to come home. I’m sorry about everything. Please help
me. I…I need your help,” I said, quickly. I couldn’t bring myself to say that I
loved him, and I needed to get it over with fast, before I lost my nerve and
clammed up again. I looked to Gunner, who was still looking down.

“Is that okay?” I
asked. Gunner shot me a brief glance before turning off the camera.

“It’ll have to do,”
he said roughly. He strode over to me, scissors in hand. Before I could even
process what was happened, I felt the ties on my wrists and ankles released. I
flexed my limbs, more grateful than I’d ever been to have control over my body
again. I was keenly aware, though, of how close Gunner was standing to me.

Looking up at him,
I could feel his eyes travelling over my body before falling on my face. He had
a strange, confused look. He reached out, gingerly, and pushed some of my hair
away from my face. His touch felt surprisingly warm and gentle, and it made my
heart pound a little faster. I was aware, again, of the nagging feeling of
attraction that I’d been burying underneath my anger. I knew nothing about him,
and in fact, I had every reason to squirm away from his touch, but something
inside me wanted…more.

Then, Gunner
grabbed a section of my hair and quickly snipped it off. I broke away from him
at that point, jarred out of my daze by the snipping sound. Gunner stood up
straight, looking down on me.

“Seeing how things
go, we might have you make another little video tomorrow. Until then, eat up.
You’ll get breakfast in the morning, but nothing else tonight. Sorry, just that
no one will be around to feed you,” he said, an apologetic tint to his voice.

Then he turned
around quickly; I noticed the insignia on the back of his vest for the first
time then. It was a picture of a snake’s hissing face surrounded by thorns;
above the face were the words “Rattlesnake MC.” I noticed, too, the same
insignia was tattooed on Gunner’s forearm, above the wrist. He picked up the
tripod and vanished out the door without another word spoken between us.

~
5
~

What the hell just happened? Why in God’s name
did I show her that scar, say those things? This is just a job – a very, very,
fucking good-paying job – what the hell is wrong with me? I keep looking at her
and seeing…Jesus, what am I even thinking? She’s just a dumb little rich girl.
She could never…stop it. Just stop it. In a few days we’ll get the call to
bring her home and that’ll be done with. I’ll never see her again. Out of
sight, out of mind. Stop thinking about her legs. Stop thinking about her eyes.
Stop thinking about her lips. Stop…thinking…about…her.

~
6
~

The next day, I was
awoken by someone new. A tall, fat, older man was holding a plate of eggs and
toast in the doorway; he entered the room and set them down in front of the
mattress, where I was just getting my bearings.

“Eat up,
buttercup,” the man said with a dirty grin. I scowled up at him and didn’t
touch the food. The peanut butter and jelly sandwich lay untouched on the plate
from the night before. “Aww, you
gotta
keep your
energy up somehow, darling. And going on hunger strike
ain’t
gonna
do nothing for
ya
anyway. Not here.”

“My name is
Serena,” I spat back at him. I contemplated, for a split second, making a run
for it. But looking at the gigantic man, I knew I’d make it about two steps off
the mattress before I was caught and tied up again. My limbs were still sore
from being tied. I didn’t want to go through that again. And, I thought, this couldn’t
last much longer. No matter how much I pissed Dad off, he’d never leave me in
here.

“Suit yourself,
Serena,” the man said. I recognized his voice, then, as the other man who had
been in the car. Ace. He turned and walked towards the door.

“Have you…have you
heard from my Dad?” I asked, realizing that this might be my only time to get
information. Ace didn’t stop walking, but called back to me over his shoulder.

“Nope,” was all he
said before letting the door slam shut behind him. I stared at the two plates
of food. My stomach hurt from hunger, but I couldn’t imagine actually eating
anything these monsters gave me.

One of the worst
things was the boredom. There was nothing to watch. Nothing to read. No way to
tell time. Just…total nothing. I counted sheep, trying to sleep away the hours.
I tried to recite song lyrics to myself. I tried to remember the plots of
movies. I tried lots of things. But I was still bored.

Which probably
explains why I was actually happy to see Gunner come in with the camera again
that day. It was, at least, something to do. He set the camera up in silence,
then moved towards me, throwing me a newspaper.

“We’re doing
another one. Don’t worry about making a speech. Just…don’t worry about it,” he
said. He was acting very distant, much less friendly than he’d been before. I
wondered if he was upset about the day before, then realized I didn’t need to
wonder about the motivations of a lunatic biker dude who’d kidnapped me. The
red light came on the camera and I held the newspaper up, looking straight at
the lens. The red light turned off.

“That’s good
enough,” he said, walking towards me to retrieve the paper.

“Wait, please, can
you leave it? I’m so bored in here,” I said, looking up at him. He hesitated
for a moment.

“Yeah, well, I
guess it could get dull. I don’t see why not.” His eyes flicked down towards
the plates of food. “You’re not eating.”

“Do you really
expect me to?” My response made Gunner smirk slightly.

“I guess you’re
right. You might get hungry though. You never know,” he said. He lingered, not
saying anything, just looking at me.

“So…what is this
anyway? You guys are like a gang?” Gunner scratched at his short hair, studying
me. I was making conversation simply because I knew once he left, it would be
just me and the newspaper for the next however many hours.

“You could say
that. We provide certain…services. We stick together. We’re a family,” he said
candidly.

“I…I wish I had
more of a family,” I said, blindly trying to keep the conversation going.

“Yeah, well, you
got money, don’t you? Just buy yourself a family,” Gunner replied with a smirk.

“That’s not really
how it works,” I said, looking down.

“Well, I guess I
know that. Where’s your Ma at?” I was thankful that Gunner seemed interested in
talking, but curious about his intentions.

“She did when I was
really young. Dad never remarried. All I’ve got…all I’ve got is Juliana…do you
know how she is?” I’d been trying not to think about what could have happened
to her – looking at Gunner’s tough exterior, it wasn’t beyond belief that he
would have done something…unspeakable to her.

“Don’t worry. Your
little maid is just fine. We didn’t rough her up no more than a cut on her
head. In fact, Juliana is probably with your Dad right now. We told her, in no
uncertain terms, to go straight to him – no police, no nothing. She seemed
pretty willing to follow orders, once we told her what we’d do to you. For a
maid, she cares a lot about you.”

“She’s my only
friend,” I admitted, looking up at Gunner shyly.

“Poor little rich
girl,” he said, picking up the tripod. “Eat something. It’s not
gonna
make it any better for you being hungry.” He shot me
a final glance before turning to leave.

“What you said
yesterday, about your father,” I said quickly, not even thinking, just
desperate for him to stay a little while longer, “I’m sorry. That sounds
rough.” Gunner stopped but didn’t look back.

“It made me who I
am today. I’m grateful,” he said roughly before opening the door and
disappearing into the blinding light of the summer day outside.

The next day, the
same things happened. Ace came, bearing breakfast, followed by Gunner with the
camera. A newspaper, the red light. We talked again. Longer, this time. I told
him about growing up in Manhattan and how lonely it could be. He said that
being part of his group was what gave him strength and purpose. It wouldn’t
matter what they did, as long as they were together. I told him about Juliana.
He told me a story about crashing his motorcycle on the highway. Then he left,
and I was alone again, trying to sleep and reading the paper, waiting for
another day.

That’s how it was
every day for the next three days. Every day, Gunner came in, filmed me holding
the paper, and we’d talk. He’d taken to sitting on the chair he’d brought his
first day. We’d talk about nothing, mostly, but I savored every moment, because
it meant I wasn’t alone.

And as much as I
hated Gunner for keeping me locked up, I was also starting to enjoy his
company. He was funny, and smarter than his poor vocabulary would have you
believe. And he listened – he listened very well. The third day, he brought in
a bucket of water and a sponge and said I should wash up after he left.

“Haven’t you…don’t
you know when this will all be over?” I asked him that day as the conversation
came to an end. I felt comfortable asking at that point; we’d shared a
surprising amount with each other. But as soon as I asked, his eyes grew cold.
Staring at me, he shook his head.

“It’s over when I
tell you it’s over,” he said. His voice was harsh. I felt myself shrinking
inside, more hurt from his tone of voice than what he’d actually said. It
wasn’t until after he’d left that I started asking myself questions: had Dad
not sent the money? What was everyone waiting for? When would this be over?

I started to wash
myself with the water he’d brought in; it felt amazing to clean myself off
after five days in a dirty room in the full heat of summer. The questions
dissolved as I cleaned myself up, feeling like a real person again for the
first time in days.