My mind went to stupid places. I couldn't stop thinking that maybe somehow, someway, he'd find me again. The ring would draw him like something out of a fairy tale, and I'd never be alone forever, just as long as I held onto this precious thing he'd given me for comfort. I'd give it back to him one day, just like I promised, and he'd give me a second chance.
I slipped it onto my finger. Way too big. But it didn't matter, I clasped it to my chest anyway, remembering the unmistakable touch of the only man who'd treated me kindly since I'd shown up here.
With a sigh, I pulled it off and stuffed it into my purse, shoving it in a little side compartment where I hoped nobody would find it.
Maybe my new owner would be as sloppy as Ricky, especially when he let his lust or rage take over. I'd learned a thing or two about working men over when I could, but I hadn't figured out how to use my charms to buy my freedom.
Someday, I promised myself. I zoned out for what must've been a half hour, clutching my purse when the door burst open.
Ricky walked in with three huge men behind him. I'd seen them before, a trio of dark-eyed, evil-looking bastards who'd visited the whorehouse before, all of them wearing Deadhands MC cuts.
Big Vic wasn't with them, the only saving grace.
“Careful now, boys,” Ricky said nervously. “Please don't rough her up. Big Vic doesn't get his cut if you hand her over bruised, and the guy on the other end notices. He was very specific about wanting undamaged goods, if ya'll know what I mean. I told her not to get smart with you.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever, pimp.” An older man with a salt and pepper handlebar mustache motioned to the others. “Chaps, get this bitch on your bike and find her a helmet. Spiny, let's make sure this cocksucker shows us the money. Up front. All of it.”
A nasty, muscular man wearing a PROSPECT patch stepped forward and grabbed my arm. “Let's go, girly. I'll make sure you're all taken care of.”
I gasped on the way out, feeling his hand run up my skirt. It was looking extremely unlikely these brutes were going to treat me nicely while they did their job.
The worst part? There was absolutely nothing I could do about it. Not even Ricky could object now, not when he had his eyes totally focused on the money, and bikers of any sort seemed to be his personal nightmare.
We'd be roaring over the mountains toward North Carolina nonstop. If I tried to run, tried to wave to anyone in traffic and show them what was happening, I'd be a dead girl in a matter of minutes. Jesus, I'd probably get other people killed.
I had to play along. I had to numb all my feelings and just get through this.
If I could survive the trip, see what I was dealing with on the other side, I could plan my next move. Everyone had a weakness, even this new buyer. If I could find it, exploit it, and use it to get in touch with Skin, then I still had hope.
I wouldn't give up. I promised myself I'd stay true, stay strong, stay –
“Fuck me raw.” Chaps put his hand on my shoulder as he pushed me onto his bike. “It's gonna be pure hell having your hands inches from my dick on this long haul. Sure hope the Prez gives the okay for a little fun before we drop you off with your new daddy.”
I looked away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. His eyes clung to me for a few more seconds, and then snorted and turned away, lighting up a smelly, cheap cigarette.
I had to take myself away from all this. My mind turned over, working to find that numb, vacant space I'd gone to before to survive this nightmare.
Peace never came easy. I was still searching for it, trying to put myself in that rare zen space I'd found a few times before, when the other men came storming out.
Ricky hovered behind the door, looking out the dirty back window, his eyes on me. I wouldn't look at him, too busy eyeballing the harsh, nasty men who got on their bikes. Mustache Man signaled the younger ones, and we took off with a roar.
I hated having to hold onto the bastard driving. My eyes focused on his pal in the mirror, the one called Spiny. He drove strangely, kissed the back of our bike with his front wheel several times on the highway. I saw something smoking in his hand, too fat to be a cigarette.
“Oh my God. Is he stoned?” The fear raging in my chest made me want another one of Ricky's joints, the only thing I'd ever had at the whorehouse to temporarily put me out of my misery.
“Shut your pretty mouth and relax, princess, or I'll fucking make you,” the biker in front of me growled. “You're safe. Just trust us. Now, squeeze me tighter. I'm looking for an excuse to shove both those little hands on my cock, and you'll give me a good one if you don't close your mouth.”
I did. I bit my tongue for several more miles, watching as the other Prospect drove like he was drunk. My heart filled with hope and terror when I saw a squad car about to pass us on the other side.
This could be it.
If the policeman noticed Spiny's crappy driving, maybe he'd pull them over, and then I'd find my way out of this. Assuming it didn't end in a shootout...