“Argh!” I push through the stabbing pain and pivot directions. Frantic for a way out of here, I run before looking which has me skidding to a bumpy and sudden stop when I finally realize my catastrophic error.
“No, damn it!” Hummers, cars that look no bigger than wind-up toys and a couple of pickups. All of them scream drug-dealer money which means they probably come with fancy apps on phones to start them.
Phones.
I feel my palms start to sweat around the one I’m still clutching. I can either forfeit my lead time trying on a phone I can’t unlock or go to option B.
I perform a one-eighty and spy a line of shiny bikes opposite the cars. Bingo. “Plan B, it is.” Now those might be a possibility.
It’s kind of hard to concentrate on the finer details like I’ve never ridden a bike before, but it can’t be rocket science if this thug can manage it. Because I know one of these belongs to him just like I know my window of escaping is swiftly closing.
I don’t spare the bull a single glance and keep on pumping my legs.
“Wait a damn minute, woman!” he growls around a mouthful of more Russian and fancy R rolls I don’t understand. Doesn’t matter. What does matter are heavy footfalls crunching on gravel and the fact they are getting closer. They send me gripping for my dress and I do a mean knees-to-chest movement my younger self would be proud of.
Using my years of outrunning my uncle to my advantage I break record speeds reaching the bikes what feels like the length of a football field away.
I swing my leg and pounds of dress over the seat of the nearest one so impossibly shiny I can see my panicked expression staring back at me. I try to crank and twist anything I can to start the damn thing.
“You have to ask permission to ride bitch on my bike.”
My lips pinch together. It’s not like I can match his strength with mine but for once I’d really love to have a set of brass knuckles. Either way, it doesn’t mean he’s not going to get the fight of my life.
Weighed down by this stupid dress I don’t get an inch before beefy arms wrap around my middle and I’m plucked off the bike and dropped in the gravel feet first.
“Oh! You unholy bastard!” I crumple to my knees from the pain but I don’t get a chance to see how bad the damage is. Those same arms are around me again and I’m swung over a massive shoulder, my ass in the air and the fight in my muscles coming to life.
“Is there any other kind of bastard?”
I rear back and drive a solid elbow blow right over his shoulder blade. He snarls, gives me a good shake so I do it again only this time I put more weight into it.
“Stop that! It’s your own damn fault. I told you to hold the hell up, did I not? Maybe I should let you see how far you can get barefoot and in that dress. Or I should really send you back and get a refund.Da. I’m starting to like that idea.”
I pound on his back to emphasize my words. “Yes! Do that! I dare you.” My goading doesn’t help. He only huffs out and I can practically see he thinks I’m a loon with how hard he’s shaking his head. The mumbled Russian has a tone I understand too.
The fucker.
“The faster you learn to do what I say, the easier your life will be. Don’t and see what happens.” His tone turns mocking with a twist of dark humor. “Or you can continue to fight me and see how that goes. Maybe you like being tied up.”
I swallow past a knot of fear lodged in my throat. Remember, I’m not nearly as brave as I act. That’s all it is. A panicked version of myself trying not to get killed before I can save my sister. Deep down I rather hide behind a computer screen and let my typing do all my fighting. But here I am. Thrown over the shoulder of some mafia biker Russian dude slash drug dealer. I mean look at this place! Money oozes from every corner of the manicured lawn.
I don’t know. I’m spitballing here. But something tells me I’m not far off the mark, if at all about this guy.
My captor fights with my dress and just as a cold wind hits my ass, so does his open palm.
“What the hell?” I squeak. His touch lingers on the part of my ass cheek he smacks. Strong fingers grip the fleshy globe working in the heat of the sting.
I try to wiggle free but it only earns me another. Rage, the kind that festers and explodes out taking everyone with it, fills me. “Do that again and see what I do!”
“Still want to fight me? Okay.” Those fingers dig into my flesh and the touch is no longer a suggestion of danger, but a threat of possession. “You’re mine to do with what I please. Push me, little girl, and you’ll see how far I’m willing to go to get what I want. You might even like it. Begging for it when I’m balls deep inside you and feeding your sweet pussy my milk.”
I flex when his fingertips skim over my ass and down the sensitive skin of my thighs. He’s playing with me, wanting me to take the bait. It takes everything in me not to give in to his taunts.
“Not a chance, mafia man. Touch me and I swear to God, I’ll cut your dick off.”
“You won’t be saying that after you get a taste of me on that filthy tongue of yours.”
“I’ll never want you!”