Lying back on the bed, I watch Viking fuck her through two orgasms before he floods her womb with his load. She cries more, from such heightened ecstasy, and when she finally moans through her orgasm, Viking collapses on top of her while I release her wrists.
Turning her on her back, Logan watches us silently as we clean her up and massage her limbs. My vest is coated with sweat from all three of us, hiding her body in an alluring way.
“Why are we on lockdown?” She poses the question we ignored earlier by fucking her senseless.
“Safety,” Viking grunts out, swiping his fingers through her pussy and scooping up all our cream before sliding my vest open and drawing on her stomach. “Can’t say more than that. Club business.”
She harrumphs and drops her shoulders, but she doesn’t demand answers, which will likely bite us in the ass when it comes to gaining her trust.
Chapter 17
Viking
There is nothing more freeing than riding my motorcycle, wind brushing along the sleek curves, and stars shining bright in the sky. It’s where I’ve always felt most at home.
Until Logan came crashing in.
I don’t know how the fuck it happened, or if it’s even real, but my obsession with that woman seems an awful lot like love. Or what I think love should feel like. I wouldn’t know, though. I’ve spent my life trying to survive, fighting for every little thing I have. Logan seems to have just fallen into our laps, which makes it easy, but I don’t trust easy.
Slowing down as we approach the site we’ll walk from to get to the warehouse we’re about to destroy, I take note of the area. Trees, bushes, a deteriorating shack at the water’s edge, leading to a dock that’s had better days. Nothing sticks out, indicating that anyone is hiding, waiting to ambush us.
“Clear,” I tell Brute and climb off my bike. Everyone silently locks up their motorcycles, gathers their gear, and mentally prepares for warfare.
“Easy,” Brute calls to our senior enforcer, and the reason we’re here. “You lead the way.”
I know he feels a little naked without Swamp next to him, so I take his position, giving a subtle nod that I’ve got his back.
“Silent through the marsh, get in position, and wait for my cue,” Easy instructs, and we follow his lead. The swamp at night has always given me the creeps; you never know what the fuck you’ll encounter and if it’ll kill you.
We become slightly more cautious when we hear hissing noises coming from the water, but we don’t stop until we hit the clearing that opens into an empty parking lot surrounded by barbed-wire fencing. After scanning the back of the building and finding no noticeable cameras, we move forward. Axl and I cut a hole in the fence for the others to slip through, leaving Neo behind as a lookout.
“Here we fucking go,” Easy says, watching as we all take our positions.
Miami and Free set up small explosives on the main door while Brute and Axl head around the building to the only other exit. Olympus walks the perimeter, on the watch for anyone trying to escape through a window.
“Blow it,” I order.
Taking cover, Easy hits the switch, and with a loud bang, the door flies off the hinges and over our heads. A couple of smoke bombs get tossed through the entranceway, and coughing is the only other sound coming from inside.
We hear Brute and Axl breach the other door while Miami stays outside, and Free follows us in. Their cook station is amateur-grade, and the bruise-covered girls in their underwear are typical findings.
“Who’s in charge?” I shout, grabbing the closest guy to me by his hair and pressing the barrel of my gun against his head. He doesn’t hesitate to point to a guy frozen in a doorway, with a look of realization that he’s about to perish. Pulling the trigger, he drops from my hand.
Brute orders, “Free, get the girls out. Have someone come pick them up.”
Easy takes off after the man in charge, barging through the door he’s trying to close and lock himself behind. Plowing his way in, we hear the sounds of flesh hitting flesh and let our guy have his moment.
Their operation is not as big as anticipated, with only four girls and eight men brandishing weapons. Each of whom I have no doubt enjoyed hurting the girls they hired to cook and pack their shitty meth.
Gunshots ring throughout the warehouse as the men are executed one by one. Their bodies are dragged out and hauled into the back of a truck belonging to one of them, for disposal into the surrounding swamps, feeding the crocs a hearty meal. The building will then be burned to ash.
Brute already put in a call to an insider at the PD, telling them not to respond to any calls from this location until morning. Whether the person listens or not depends on how much he values his career and reputation.
“Fucking tell them.” Easy tosses the ringleader out of his office, blood and tears dripping down the man's face.
“Please, please don’t kill me,” he begs. Easy kicks him in the back of the head. “Trafficking. There are girls locked up like dogs in cages. Let me live, and I’ll give you the location.”
Easy hands Brute a tablet that he eventually passes around to the rest of us with a disgusted look on his face.
