Ryker (Kings of Korruption MC Book 1) (22 page)

Lifting my head slightly, I try to get a good look at the bindings on my wrists.
 
My head swims with pain as I tug and wiggle my arms, desperately looking for a way to get out of them.
 
They don’t budge.
 
Tied tight, the rope cuts harshly into my skin, and with every tug my skin tears more and more.
 
I can’t stop though.
 
I keep struggling with them, even as I cry out in pain when the blood starts trickling down my arms.

Fear overwhelms me, my breaths coming out in sobs and gasps.
 
Lying my head back in defeat, my mind races for a solution.
 
I need to get out of here!
 
The door to the cabin opens, and there he is.

Krueger stalks into the room carrying a case of beer.
 
Looking up, he smiles at me, baring his crooked yellow teeth.

 
“Well, rise and shine, sleeping beauty.
 
I was startin’ to wonder if you’d ever wake up.”
 
His friendly tone doesn’t put me at ease – it only freaks me out more.
 
Is he delusional?

He approaches me, reaching to his hip as he gets closer.
 
My heart stutters as he pulls a knife out of the brown leather case on his belt. Standing at the side of the bed, he holds it up, showing me the tool he’s used to end the lives of others.
 
The smile on his face is wicked and cruel.
 
I lose it.
 
I scream, struggling and yanking on my bonds, not caring if I have to cut my own hands off with that filthy rope.
 
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that he doesn’t intend to let me leave this bed alive.

My mind flashes to Anna.
 
What will she do without me?
 
Who will take care of her?
 
And Ryker.
 
He is going to feel so guilty.
 
He tried his hardest to keep me safe, but I’d ruined that with my stupid broken heart and wounded pride.

Krueger silences my scream by thrusting the blade of his knife against my throat.
 
I freeze.
 
I’m afraid to breathe.
 
If I move even a fraction, his blade will cut into my skin, possibly ending my life.
 
Staring at him, eyes wide, I try to get control of my breathing so that my throat doesn’t move.
 
My chest burns from the effort.

With his free hand, Krueger reaches down and runs his finger along my body, daring me to squirm.
 
“You know how I got my name?”

I don’t answer.
 
I can’t move.
 
I just continue to stare into his eyes.
 
They scare me more than his knife does.
 
They’re cold and empty; dead.
 
It’s like staring into the eyes of a shark.

 
“With this knife?
 
I do shit that makes Freddy Krueger look like a saint.”
 
He sneers down at me and grabs my breast, squeezing painfully.
 
A squeak escapes but I manage to hold still, the knife still at my throat.

Releasing my breast, he moves the knife from my throat.
 
Plucking the front of my shirt away from my body, he runs the knife along it, slicing it open from hem to neckline.
 
He does the same with my shorts, leaving me in only my cotton thong panties and a see through, white lace bra.
 
He hums his appreciation low in his throat, causing my stomach to churn.

 
“I’ve fucked your sister in every position you can imagine.”
 
I squeeze my eyes closed, trying to block the mental image from my mind.
 
“She’s a good lay, but every time I fucked her, I pictured it was you I was fuckin’.”
 
He runs the tip of his blade across my stomach, stopping to flick it across my belly button.
 
I lay there, fear freezing my body solid, goosebumps racing along my skin.

 
“Hottest fuckin’ bitch I ever laid eyes on.
 
I almost had you last time.
 
I woulda kept you too, but then you knocked me over the fuckin’ head and kicked me in the balls.”
 
He growls in anger, bringing the knife up and placing the tip against my breast.
 
“Then that fucker Ryker calls, and suddenly my Prez tells me to leave you alone.
 
I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE YOU?”
 
He’s screaming at me now.
 
His eyes wild, chest heaving as he glares down at me.

 
“I’m gonna have you though,” he whispers.
 
His face splits into a wide, crazy grin.
 
“Just can’t keep you.”
 
He brings the knife down to the right of my belly button.
 
“They can’t do shit if they can’t find a body.”

The pain overwhelms me when he plunges that knife deep into my soft belly.

***

Ryker

I’m clutching my phone, waiting to hear something, anything, when it rings.
 
I don’t even look at the caller I.D. to see who it is.
 
Selecting the “Accept” option, I put the phone to my ear.
 
“Yeah?”
 
My voice sounds hoarse.
 

 
“Ryker?
 
Deed.”
 
Deed and my old man had hated each other.
 
The two clubs had never gotten along.
 
Since I became vice president of the Kings, I’d worked hard to mend that relationship.
 
Allies were always better than enemies.
 
I considered Deed a friend; maybe not a close one, but a friend nonetheless.
 

What’ve you got?”
 
It’s five o’clock in the morning.
 
Krueger had taken Charlie around ten o’clock the night before.
 
He’s had her for seven hours now.
 
Each hour my hope of finding my girl alive dwindles just a little bit more.

 
“Well, it could be nothin’.
 
Then again, it could be exactly what you’re lookin’ for.”

 
“What the fuck’ve you got?”
 
I don’t have time for fucking riddles.
 
My skin is crawling with dread, and I pray to whatever fucking God may be out there that he can tell me something useful.

 
“We managed to track down a cousin of Krueger’s.
 
They ain’t close, but he wouldn’t tell us shit.
 
Had to rough him up a bit.
 
Guy’s a fuckin’ pussy.
 
Said Krueger had come to him for money.
 
Mentioned he was in some hot water.
 
Was goin’ to stay at their Grandpa’s old fishin’ shack for a while.”

I sit up in my seat.
 
“Where?”

 
“About forty five minutes west of Ottawa.
 
He showed us on a map.
 
I’ll text you the GPS co-ordinates.”
 
He pauses.
 
“I don’t know if he’s there or not, but it’s the best I’ve got for ya.”

Hope floods me, replacing the despair I was feeling.
 
This is the best lead we’ve had.
 
This has to be it.
 
Charlie’s life depends on it.
 
A remote fishing shack would be the perfect place to take a hostage.
 
“Text me the details.”

 
“On it.
 
And Ryker?”

I’m already heading for my bike.
 
“Yeah?”

 
“As much as you’re gonna want to … don’t kill him.”
 
What the fuck?
 
“That sick fucker has a lot to answer for, and we need to talk to him first.
 
You’ll get your blood, but we need a chance to interrogate him.”

Fair enough.
 
“Done.”

 
“Texting you now.
 
Good luck, brother.
 
I hope you find your girl.”

I manage to bark out a quick “Thanks”, adrenaline coursing through me.
 
Disconnecting, I swing my leg over my bike and start it up.
 
The text comes through with the location.
 
Copying it, I send a mass text to all my brothers with the details, calling everyone to action.
 
Then, I take off to find my baby girl.

Chapter Eighteen

Charlotte

So much pain.
 
My body shakes violently, pain taking over, erasing my fear.
 
I can’t breathe.
 
Krueger yanks his knife free and lifts it to his face.
 
Grinning, he runs his tongue along the length of the blade, my blood collecting on the tip.

 
“Fuckin’ delicious.”
 
Lowering the blade, he slices it through the center of my bra, leaving a deep cut directly between my breasts.
 
The cups fall to the side, baring my breasts to the chilly air, and his hungry eyes.
 
Those eyes drink the sight in with greed.
 

Fast as lightening, he darts down and wraps his lips around my nipple, sucking deep.
 
Revulsion courses through my veins.
 

 
“You fucking cocksucker!”
 
I scream at the top of my lungs.
 
Rage dulls the pain in my belly.
 
I struggle and flail, once again desperate to release the bindings on my wrists and ankles.
 

Pulling away, he licks his lips before sneering at me with cold, hate filled eyes.
 
His blade comes down again, plunging deep into my side.
 
I scream in pain, squeezing my eyes closed.
 
Blood gushes from the two puncture wounds in my torso, sticking me to the mattress like cheap glue.

His teeth are on my nipple at the same time I feel his blade at the crotch of my panties.
 
Slicing the tiny piece of fabric, he rips away the last bit of covering I have left.
 
He bites down, hard enough to draw blood.
 
I struggle with everything I have in me, pulling and straining, praying the blood from my wrists acts as a lubricant to make my hands slip free.
 
I can’t feel my hands and feet anymore, blood pouring from beneath the rope.
 
Gasping, I can’t get enough air to fill my lungs and my head swims.

I hear him doing something at the side of the bed.
 
Looking over through blurry eyes, I see him undoing his pants.
 
He climbs up onto the bed, fitting himself between my legs, dick in hand.
 
I try to scream, but the sound is muted from my lack of oxygen.
 
Blackness fills my vision.
 
I’m fading.
 

Just as I give up, letting the darkness rescue me from the horror of this nightmare, a crash comes from the other side of the cabin.
 
A roar of fury fills my ears as I drift away into the peacefulness of the dark, thanking God for the escape.

***

Ryker

I’d sent the message to all of my brothers, rounding up the troops from wherever they were, to come and meet me at the cabin.
 
I arrive first, Reaper close on my tail.
 
We pull to a stop at the entrance to the path.
 
It’s a three kilometer hike in and I can’t wait for back up.
 
I need to get to Charlie.

Without a word, Reaper and I climb off our bikes, check our guns and take off down the beaten trail.
 
As we get closer, a scream breaks the silence.
 
I break out in a run, Reaper right behind me.
 
She sounds like she’s in pain.
 
Terror rips through me as I push myself to run faster.

We come to a clearing, seeing the cabin several hundred feet away.
 
Slowing, we take in our surroundings, looking for any signs of danger.
 
That’s when I hear her scream again.
 
The sound is quieter; weaker.
 
Fuck.

As one, Reaper and I hurry to the door.
 
I stand aside as he lifts a giant foot and boots the flimsy door in.
 
When I look through the open door rage overwhelms me, a roar of fury escaping my throat.
 
The scene before me is straight out of a horror movie.

Charlie lays tied to an old bed, spread eagle, blood covering her torso.
 
Her eyes are closed, skin white as a sheet.
 
Krueger kneels on the bed, right between her legs, his filthy cock in hand.
 
His turns his head to the door, a look of surprise on his face.

Aiming my gun at his head, I place my finger on the trigger.
 
Reaper clamps his hand down on my arm, a silent warning that we can’t kill him.
 
I don’t care.
 
One look at Charlie and I want nothing more than to rip his guts open with his own knife, then hang the son of a bitch with his own shit filled intestines.