Her eyelids shot up and she looked at me, piercing and unafraid. I froze, stunned by the intensity of her gaze, by the way it grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go. Luckily, the moment was over quickly. Her eyes rolled back and closed, and I stifled a sigh of relief to be freed of her penetrating stare. Fuck.
We changed cars two more times before we reached our new clubhouse out in the woods northeast of Morristown. My heart rate began to slow when we drove through the wire-netting fence gates. I’d half expected Vitiello and his soldiers to launch an attack on us. By now, Marcella was wiggling, still out of it, but growing increasingly more alert. This time I didn’t make the mistake of looking at her again.
Earl waited on the porch of the old farmhouse, arms crossed. He’d received my message about our successful abduction. I jumped out of the van with a thumbs up in Earl’s direction and opened the door of the loading area. Marcella sat up, supporting herself with one arm. She tossed her head back to glare at me when I towered over her.
“Time to move into your temporary home, Miss Vitiello.”
I bent down to pick her up but she scurried backward. “Don’t touch me with your dirty hands.”
She aimed a kick at my crotch, but I grabbed her ankle before she could do real damage and jerked her in my direction. She didn’t have any fight experience, so I had no trouble hoisting her out of the transporter. My attempt to set her down on the ground so she could walk by herself was thwarted when she aimed another kick at my shin.
“Fuck it, bitch.”
Her indignant blue eyes hit me. Nobody had probably ever called her bitch before, and it wasn’t usually a term I threw around, but she really pissed me off.
“Walk or I’ll carry you over my shoulder so my brothers can see your perky ass.”
She stiffened which gave me the chance to actually put her down on her feet and grab her arm to drag her along. Marcella struggled against my hold but I only tightened my fingers around her upper arm, snarling.
“Stop it.”
She flinched before her mouth set in a thin, stubborn line, but at least she finally followed me without a fight.
Earl came down the three steps of the porch and met us halfway.
“Nobody followed you?” Earl asked, scanning Marcella from head to toe.
She shuddered. I wasn’t sure if it was because of Earl or because she finally knew who we were. Unlike Gunnar and me, Earl wore his cut with the big Tartarus MC script on the back and smaller on the front.
“Nobody, don’t worry. We were careful,” I said. I moved toward the house but Earl raised his hand to stop me.
“The kennels,” Earl ordered with a sharp nod in the direction of the line of cages down the slope from the house.
I hesitated, my brows pulling together.
Earl’s eyes sharpened in warning. “Show the whore her rightful place.”
Marcella tensed, but when I started dragging her toward the kennels, fight returned to her body. Eventually, I had enough and hoisted her up on my shoulder as I’d promised. She was a lightweight but what she lacked in weight, she made up with litheness and bite. She tried to scratch my neck and arms, every inch of skin that wasn’t covered by clothes.
“You’re going to regret this! My father will kill you.”
Bearing the sting of her nails stoically, I muttered, “I’m sure he’d love to dismember me, but I won’t give him a chance.”
Barking welcomed us as we reached the kennels. They were one of the new additions to the property. Earl never went anywhere without a few of his fight dogs.
“Oh God,” Marcella whispered. Maybe she thought I hadn’t heard her. It certainly hadn’t been meant for my ears, but for the first time, I sensed her fear and felt it in the tremor of her body.
It was strange, but I didn’t feel any satisfaction at her distress.
I carried her into the only vacant kennel despite her struggling. Rottweilers filled the other cages, beasts that my uncle had turned into vicious fighting machines that only obeyed him, and sometimes me. Their barks and snarls rose in volume at the sight of a stranger.
I dropped her unceremoniously on her feet then turned and threw the cage door shut. The dogs sandwiching her kennel jumped against the bars, snarling and spit flying, as their vicious eyes fixated on Marcella, eager to tear into her. Earl earned good money with dog fights but rumor had it that he’d disposed of traitors that way in the past too, but that had been before my time.
Marcella flinched and backed against the wall of the dog kennel, clutching one of her expensive-looking black high heels. Earl watched everything with a satisfied smile before he strolled over to me. For some reason, seeing her in a cage gave me the same uncomfortable sensation I’d experienced whenever I’d seen a tiger in the zoo. She didn’t belong in there, but this wasn’t about my unreasonable feelings but about revenge. Her discomfort would be short-lived and nothing in comparison to the hell I’d lived after her father had butchered mine.