The muscles in my shoulders burn. The metal chain looped around my wrists has chaffed the skin, pinching the flesh. My toes barely touch the cold floor, so all my weight is being held by my wrists. It’s irritating.
My eyes shift to the door opening, my breathing steady but heart picking up a speedy pace. What the fuck is this all about? Why the hell did a brother call me to meet only for me to be ambushed? The cell he called is strictly for club business. No outsiders have the number.
A well-dressed man in a tailored suit comes to stand in front of me, his hands in his pockets, eyes assessing. Another man stops to his right. Cheaper suit, broader shoulders—his muscle. I keep my gaze focused on the man in charge. He looks young. Too fucking young to be in charge.
“You’re an impressive man to look at,” he concludes, dragging his eyes over my body. I feel like a slab of meat on a butcher's counter.
“You should see it when it’s not trying to climb inside my body.” I grin.
“I was referring to you taking out two of my men before the drug took hold. Most men don’t get out of the seat,” he lies.
“I’m not most men.”
“I see that.” He nods to his lackey, who pulls a stack of boxes over for him to sit on. I don’t like that his head is now in line with my cock.
“I’m going to ask you some questions, and you’re going to answer me.”
“Is that how this works?” I scoff.
Holding his hand out, the lackey places a small, four-inch blade into his palm. The suit drags the blade up my thigh across the lower part of my stomach, his eyes glued to my dick.
Glaring at him, he brings the blade to just above my hip bone. Pushing the tip into my flesh, he punctures the skin and buries the full blade into me. Gritting my teeth, I hiss, “Ow, asshole.”
“I’ll say it again. I’m going to ask some questions, and you’re going to answer me.”
I chuckle, rattling the chains in an attempt to free myself, but it’s useless. Being on the opposite end of the torture isn’t the best, but he has a long night ahead of him if he thinks a small blade will have me answering anything.
“Are you the executioner for the Royal Bastards biker rats?”
Assholes like him who look down on bikers really gets my anger flowing. “I’m whatever my brothers need me to be.”
“Did you kill this man?” The lackey pulls a picture from his breast pocket and holds it up. Robert Fallaci, the man I slaughtered at the hotel, looks back at me.
“Killed many men.”
He yanks the blade out and stabs it just above the first hole. The warm blood feels like lava against my cold flesh as it drips down my leg.
“Did you kill this one?” His voice is oddly calm, sinister.
“Maybe.” I smile with my teeth.
“Who ordered his death?” His brow puckers, his dark eyes looking up at me with real confusion.
“Santa Claus for all I give a fuck.”
Sharp stinging blazes in my abdomen as the blade pierces more of my skin. The bastard went too high. The muscle screams in anger.
“Don’t piss me off. I can assure you, you won’t enjoy it.” He closes his eyes and licks his bottom lip. Slowly pulling the blade free, he drags the tip over my groin and along the shaft of my dick.
“What, you’ll stab me?” I mock. Being cocky with a blade to my junk is stupid, but to show weakness is to give him power. He craves that. I can sense it on him. Alpha to alpha. And I’m not giving him shit.
“Maybe you’re too accustom to pain.” His eyes survey the scars littering my skin. Standing, he taps my head. “Maybe psychological pain is the way forward.”
The lackey goes to the door and summons some big motherfucker inside. His muscles look like they’ve been inflated with an air pump.
“This is Bear. He likes to fuck pretty boys like you. I think I’ll watch him pound your ass and make you his little bitch until you’re screaming answers at me.”
My pulse flares. Using all the strength I can muster, I grip the metal chain in my fists and lift my lower body. Before the suit can comprehend what I’m doing, I clamp my calves around his neck and yank him farther into me.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, you fucking pervert. Here’s my cock. That’s what you want, right? How’s it fucking taste?” I roar, squeezing the life from him. The lackey hammers blow after blow into my face, but I don’t let up until a shot rings out and a gun is aimed at my forehead. I hadn’t even noticed another man join the fray.