Page 65 of Riding Hard

I can’t let anything happen to him.

So I do something I swore I’d never do again, but I do it out of self-preservation and Cade’s protection. I don’t know what Victor is capable of when it comes to other people. I only know what he’s capable of when it comes to me, and it’s nothing I want any part of, but I’ll endure it all for Cade’s safety.

I’m dirty from work, no doubt sweaty and disgusting, which works in my favor, because no smell coming from me is going to be enticing by any means. Reaching for the button on my jean shorts, I pop it open before letting them fall to my feet.

Keeping my shoes on, I take my shorts off, then my panties. Victor takes a step backward, just enough for me to reach for the hem of my shirt. I pull it off over my head, tossing it somewhere in the distance before I unhook my bra and let it slide down my arms and fall to the floor.

“See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” His voice is softer and sweeter than it was just seconds ago.

Yes. Yes, it was hard. I don’t want to be standing here, in this empty condo where nobody knows I am, naked and scared shitless. I don’t want any part of it. Pressing my lips together, I decide to play along.

Maybe if I do a decent enough job of playing the game, I can figure out how to get myself out of this room before he hurts me too badly.

One can only hope when it comes to Victor.

Although I’ve never been able to get away from him when we’re in the same room before. I’ve always had to wait until he goes to work, or the store, or somewhere else before I can sneak out.

And sneaking out is what I aim to do.

“On your knees,” he demands as he begins to walk backward. I hate this part, absolutely hate it, but I do it. Because I know I won’t be able to get out of this, at least not yet.

Sinking down to my knees, I wait for his next instruction, knowing this is all about control for him and he’s going to feed me the commands he wants me to follow. Step by step, and if I try to move any quicker than that, he will make me go back and start over, except with a swollen eye.

“Down on your hands and knees, like the fucking animal you are. Crawl to me.”

I do what he demands. On my hands and knees, I keep my eyes on his, but I’m not focused on him. I keep my vision blurry as I crawl toward him, inch by inch. He takes a few more steps backward as I do—trying to be funny or something, I don’t even know—but I also don’t care.

He shouts at me to stop, so I do.

“Open your mouth,” he growls.

Parting my lips, I open my mouth. I expect him to take his pencil-thin cock out, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shoves the barrel of the gun into my mouth. I feel it scrape against my teeth. I have a fleeting worry whether I’m going to have a chipped tooth or two, but then I decide that I don’t care. It won’t matter. I’ll be dead soon anyway.

“Get that barrel nice and wet, because I’m going to fuck you with it,” Victor coos.

I hate him.

But I suck the barrel of the fucking gun off, keeping my eyes on him but unable to focus on anything, seeing absolutely nothing. Then the gun is gone, and he shouts at me to get on my back.

I do.

Then he demands that I spread my legs.

And I do.

I stare at the ceiling. There’s a little brown spot, a ring, maybe from a leak or something. I’m not sure. It doesn’t matter, but I focus on that spot. I stay focused on it through every single humiliating moment.

I plan my revenge. I plan his death. Because I’m not going to ever endure this again. This is the last time. The absolute last fucking time. Victor will die. And I’m going to be the one to kill him.

CHAPTER

FIFTY-THREE

LOOT

I don’t go back to the clubhouse after the meeting with the Russians. We can debrief on that shit later. Right now, all I want to do is see my woman and my son. I head straight home.

When I pull into the driveway, I don’t even notice that Juliette’s car isn’t there. I have blinders on and ride directly into the garage, closing the door behind me as I kill the engine of my bike. Reaching for the door, I push it open and step inside the house.