My whole body lifted into the air as he belted out another ferocious kick, sending me spiraling down the hill I was perched on.
Erratic breaths huffed out of me as I struggled to get to my feet, but he was on me before I had a chance to scramble away. His big, meaty fingers dug into my scalp, ripping me up off the ground. Then I felt his blade. The cold metal dug into my throat, threatening to pierce it.
“I’m going to ask you again. What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I—I—” My voice was nothing but fear and stutters. Each of my bones felt like they were snapping in two beneath my skin. But I wouldn’t show him my fear. I had to stay strong for Joey.
“I’m going to cut that damn stutter out of your throat if you don’t fucking start talking.”
“My—my sister. I came for my sister.”
“Is that so?” The man’s grip lightened a bit, but not enough for me to run away. “Well, let’s go find this sister of yours. Come on, we’ll see what Beretta has to say about this.”
He pushed me along, never keeping his knife too far from my throat. The dimly lit building reeked of beer, piss, cigarettes, and smoke. Everywhere I looked there were menacing looking bikers either drinking and laughing or fucking.
I made direct eye contact with a guy getting his cock sucked by some poor girl, watching as he violently fucked her face right there in the middle of the room.
The second he pulled out his gun and pointed it at me, I averted my eyes, trying to find something else to focus on. A cold shiver worked its way down my sides, realizing there was no way I was going to get out of this alive.
“What ya got there, Colt?”
“Some fucking kid who was watching us. Says he’s here for his sister.”
Violent pain ricocheted down my legs as the biker threw me to the ground at the other biker’s feet.
“Is that so?”
My head whipped up as the biker behind me lifted my head, my eyes meeting with the barrel of the pistol the other biker had pointing at me.
“Are you spying on us?” he growled, spitting in my face. The phlegm dripped down my cheek, but I refused to show the fear I knew he could see in my eyes. The biker wasn’t as tall or bulky as the rest, but he was menacing. He had a cold-blooded killer look to him, one that said,don’t fuck with me.Every inch of exposed skin on him was heavily tatted, and he wore a dark leather jacket with the word President stitched into a patch on his chest. It was covered with other patches too, but the 1% patch on the left side of his jacket stood out the most.
“N—No. I just came for Joey,” I stuttered.
“Who the fuck is Joey?”
He looked around the room. “Any of you whores go by the name of Joey?”
Each of the girls in the room looked up, but they all shook their heads.
“There’s no Joey’s here, you little fuck. So, who sent you? Was it that bitch Ulrich? I bet it was. I bet he sent you to get intel on us.”
“No!” I yelled, my voice cut off by the arm that went around my throat from behind, squeezing me tightly.
“I say we carve the nark up into little pieces and feed them to the dogs in back. They’re fucking starving,” Colt said from behind me.
“I’m going to ask you one last time. Why are you here?”
“I’m here for my sister Joey. I want you to release her.”
“Release her?” There was a long pause before every man in the room laughed loudly. “Even if your sister was here. She wouldn’t be going anywhere. Every bitch here has been marked as property of the Hell’s Artillery. They belong to us. None of them are going anywhere.”
My eyes quickly roved the room, desperate to find Joey in the hostile atmosphere. But I didn’t see her. She wasn’t anywhere.
The man before me crouched down, pressing his gun into my temple. “I’m going to give you one last chance before I take this gun and shove it down your pathetic throat and make you eat my bullet. Why the fuck are you here?”
A familiar looking biker came out of the back with a naked girl draped over his shoulder. It was the same biker I saw at the grocery store, which could only mean one thing… Joey.
Red welts in the shape of handprints were raised on the skin of the girl’s bare ass. She was draping lifelessly over his shoulder, arms dangling, jet black hair hanging down over her face. Familiar scars pimpled her skin, a sign that she’d been used as an ashtray a few times in the past. But it was the bruises up and down her thighs and back that made me force down the bile rising up my throat.
