CHAINED: A Motorcycle Club Romance (11 page)

The man doubled over, wheezing, as he tried to pull air back into his lungs. Cain pulled the door the rest of the way open and lifted the bat, about to bring it slamming down on his opponent's head. He thought better of the blow after a moment, however, and instead cracked it against one of the man's arms as he swept a foot out to hook around the fellow's ankle.

The result? A sharp crack as the bat connected with the man's upper arm, followed by a thud as the fellow landed roughly on his ass.

The man howled, clearly able to breathe again, as he rocked back and forth on the ground and clutched at his shattered limb. Cain ignored him as he stepped over the man, looking out into the darkness. Were there others out there?

Obviously, something was going on here. Pulled up partway down the driveway, Cain spotted the outline of a dark colored van. The van sat with the lights off, making it difficult to spot. But if this wretch of a man had been driving, why hadn't he pulled the van all the way up to the house before climbing out and approaching?

It only made sense if there had been others with the man, Cain realized, straightening up and spinning around to stare out into the darkness. They'd climbed out while the van was still partly shrouded by darkness, using it as cover to steal around, while the driver distracted whoever was at the front door by approaching and asking questions.

He didn't have to wonder what they might be after. The picture of Jenna, wide-eyed on the clipboard, made the answer obvious.

Gripping the bat tightly, Cain spun around and sprinted for the back of the house, the most obvious entrance point. But even as he sprinted around the building, he heard another blast of a shotgun go off - and this time, a minute later, he heard a high-pitched female scream...

Chapter seventeen

After Cain, his eyes full of concern and alarm, had slipped out of the room, Jenna remained lying on the bed for another minute. She lifted her head to gaze across at her half-completed painting of the motorcycle, but her eyes seemed to peer right through the image.

She felt so conflicted! How could this man, her rescuer, stir up such a confusing wash of emotions and desires within her?

On one hand, she knew that she wanted him. That much was now obvious to her, every time she laid eyes on Cain. The man acted so hard and rough with everyone else, but she saw how his eyes softened whenever they passed over her, even if he didn't think that she was looking back at him. He was so strong, usually slow and reserved to speak, but she could sense the deep, powerful thoughts swimming below the placid surface of his mind. He was a man of powerful passions, no matter how he clamped them down and tried to pretend that they didn't exist.

And he wanted her. Oh, how he clearly wanted her! Whenever the two of them were alone, she felt as though his eyes were twin pools of darkness, reaching out to swallow her up like black water. His lips always pursed slightly, as if he was imagining kissing her, and whenever she offered herself up to him, he didn't hesitate to wrap her up in those big, strong arms, to sweep her off her feet.

When they'd landed together on the bed, she instantly knew that he wanted to claim her, right there and then. His member felt huge and swollen beneath her, and to her own amazement, she felt just as much desire in her own body, pushing for him in return! Almost on her own, her hand reached down to grab him, stroking him back and forth, pushing him up against her even as his hands busied themselves with removing all her clothing. Too restrictive, too thick, blocking their bodies from coming together!

But then-

Then, in a sudden wave, she'd felt her anxiety rear its head, striking at her passions and overwhelming her in sudden sorrow and grief. In a wave of emotion, all the anger and pain and terror, all she remembered from before she'd found this place, had come crashing down on her, pushing aside any thoughts of love and passion and romance.

She'd thought that Cain might leave, then, and had sobbed even harder in knowledge of what was about to happen. But the man, despite the desire raging through him, had stopped and comforted her! Even with his passion clearly still throbbing and filled with desire, he had forced his animalistic instincts to wait, had put his hands around her to comfort her.

He had waited - because she asked him to.

That was different, Jenna knew in her head, from all the other men that she could still hazily remember. Her memories of the time from before she'd stumbled into this house were fragmented and incomplete, but she remembered that much.

Before Cain, no one had cared about her.

Now, standing back up on the bed and cautiously pulling her clothing back on, in case someone else came barging into the room, Jenna considered the door. Cain had asked her to stay put, before he left, but he'd looked conflicted about it. And surely, it would be all right if she didn't venture far, wouldn't it?

Jenna opened the door a crack, just enough for her to peer in both directions down the upstairs hallway in the house. She didn't see anyone in either direction, although she could hear the sounds from the party still in full swing downstairs. Padding almost noiselessly on bare feet, she crept towards the stairs.

Down below, she could see Cain looking out the door, gripping that baseball bat that stood right next to the front entrance as he talked to someone outside. Jenna couldn't see the other person in the conversation, her view blocked by the door, and his voice was too low-pitched for her to catch any words.

Wasn't there a set of stairs leading back down to the main floor at the other end of the hallway as well, though? She glanced over her shoulder, and then turned around. Maybe if she went down that way, she'd be able to see what was going on.

Sure enough, she found the second set of stairs, carefully descending. The stairs opened up in the back hallway, right next to the kitchen where she'd first appeared and had been served breakfast by Cheery. Already, that seemed so long ago, Jenna thought. She could scarcely believe that it had been less than a day earlier.

The kitchen was filled with bodies, several big men grunting and laughing as they reminisced about some private event, tossing cans of beer to each other biker who strolled past the open doorway. They fell silent for a moment as Jenna appeared, and she tried to keep herself from shrinking back away from those gazes.

"Well, someone sure looks like she needs a drink!" one of the men finally whooped, breaking the silence as he grinned at Jenna. He reached into the fridge behind him, pulled out a metal can, and slung it across the kitchen in a single swift motion.

Jenna barely managed to get her hands up in time, catching the cold metal cylinder as it thumped into her fingers. With the men watching and waiting for her, she fumbled with the top, popping it open and raising the bubbling liquid inside up to her lips.

To her surprise, it tasted sweet! There was a tang to it, along with the froth of bubbles. She lowered the can and looked at it, wondering why it didn't taste of the foul, cheap beer that she remembered smelling from earlier days.

"Margarita in a can," the biker who'd tossed the can to her told her aloud. "It's crazy what those marketing guys come up with, but I'll be damned if the girls don't love the stuff!"

Jenna nodded, giving him a hesitant little smile. It did taste good! she thought, taking another sip. And as if this was a signal, the other men in the kitchen resumed talking and drinking from their own cans of beer.

Listening in, Jenna soon realized that they were talking about some sort of hunting trip. She made sure to smile whenever any of the men glanced over at her, but they didn't seem much bothered by her presence, one way or another. Bit by bit, she felt her taut nerves start to relax a little as she adjusted. The can of margarita in her hand was nice and cool, it tasted good as it settled in her stomach, and she felt a sensation she couldn't remember feeling for a long time.

She felt included.

Finally, the story seemed to draw to an end, with one man exclaiming how "and then, when he started the truck, he forgot to put the tailgate up, and the whole damn thing came sliding out the back!". All of the men laughed, a couple of them pounding on the countertop with mirth, and then they turned to Jenna.

"So, little lady," called out the man who'd tossed her the can. "What's your name, then?"

Jenna licked her suddenly dry lips. "Jenna. I'm Cain's friend."

She didn't know if this was the right thing to say, but the bikers seemed to nod and accept it. "About time, I say," one of them remarked to another. "Cain's almost as bad as Wolf, not even looking at the ladies. Winds him up too tight, that does."

"Oh, he's probably still tightly wound," the other man replied. Jenna recognized him; he'd been in the kitchen that morning, when she first came in. Bucky, the others had called him?

Bucky turned his attention back to Jenna. "You know what would drive him crazy? A pic with his new girl," he joked, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a smartphone. He leaned in towards Jenna, but grumbled a curse as he tried to fumble with the phone and the drink in his hands.

"Here, you take it," he said, handing the phone to Jenna and turning it around so that the camera pointed back towards them.

Carefully, as Bucky threw his arm around her, Jenna did so, pushing the little round circle to snap a picture of them both. Bucky grinned broadly in the picture, and Jenna even managed to muster up a little smile.

"Hah, I'll send that to him," Bucky smirked, stretching out his hand to retake the phone. "And where might Cain be-"

But before he could finish the question, a giant's roar interrupted him, coming from the back door behind Jenna.

The girl felt herself pitched forward, and for a moment all she saw was whiteness, and all she heard was a high-pitched ringing in her ears. She felt herself hit the ground of the kitchen, but for a moment, the pain felt as though it belonged to someone else.

Down on the ground, Jenna blinked, tried to force thoughts through the shattered fragments of her mind. Something hard had pushed its way inside her shirt, and now poked against her bra. She managed to get her hands underneath her, enough to lift her chest partly up and to roll so she could see behind and above her.

The first thing, she thought wildly, was that the monster from her nightmares had come from her.

A figure, all in black, loomed over her. At first, she thought that the thing's head was nothing but blackness, but after another moment she realized that it was a person wearing some sort of black mask; only his eyes were visible.

And before she could react, before she could do anything, the man's hand had dropped down to grab her roughly by the arm.

Only as he hauled her up, dragging her away, did Jenna finally find enough of her voice to scream.

Chapter eighteen

When Cain heard that scream echoing out across the night, he felt a new surge of energy rush through his legs as he pounded towards the back of the house.

There were figures in the night, he realized as he drew closer. He lifted up the baseball bat, trying to hold it up to keep it from getting tangled in his legs, but as much as he strained his eyes, he couldn't make out any details of the figures as they moved away from the house.

Sending one last, despairing glance towards where he knew the figures were retreating towards the van, he instead turned towards back towards the house. He could see the kitchen door standing open, sending a beam of light out into the backyard of the house.

As he drew closer, Cain could see that the door had been forcibly separated from its hinges, and now sat flat down on the ground of the kitchen. Something had slammed into the handle; it looked like one of the attackers had used a shotgun round to blast the door open, shattering apart the lock.

As Cain sprinted up, he could see several figures inside the open kitchen picking themselves up off of the floor, a couple of them groaning with the pain of doing so. He stepped forward, casting his eyes about and trying to ignore the sudden sinking feeling that was spreading throughout the pit of his stomach.

"What the hell happened?" he demanded as he stepped inside, his boots crunching on the splinters and wreckage on the floor.

Bucky, the man closest to the door, was just hauling himself back up to his feet, leaning heavily on the counter. "Holy shit," the man groaned, reaching up with one hand to rub at his head. "Christ, are we inviting police raids already?"

"What are you talking about?"

Bucky glanced over at Cain, blinking a couple times to clear his hazy vision. "I mean the fact that three or four guys just burst in here with body armor, black masks, and shotguns. Felt more like some sort of raid than anything else."

That sinking feeling in the pit of Cain's stomach was growing stronger. "A raid? Did they grab someone?"

"Yeah." Bucky gingerly tested his legs, making sure that they could hold his weight. "They grabbed Jenna, right out from in front of us. I'm sorry, Cain."

The words sounded to Cain as though he was hearing them through a long tunnel. He put a hand on the counter to catch himself, but he felt the bat slip out of his fingers and clatter on the tile floor.

Staring down at the marble counter in front of his eyes, he forced himself to take a deep breath, holding it for a moment before slowly letting it out. "They took her," he repeated, trying to get the words to click.