UNCHAIN ME: SAVAGE BEAST MC 3 Page 4

  “Be there in a sec,” the man calls out, without turning around to even look at her.

  She harrumphs, but thankfully doesn’t start her petty shit. “Jaguar” takes a step toward me once she slips back into her room, no doubt standing just at the edge to hear what is going on. I hold my breath when he lifts his hand and touches the tip of my nose with his index finger.

  “You’re going to be trouble. I can fucking feel that shit,” he murmurs.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, balling my hands into fists and scoring my palm with my nails when I do. I want to tell him that I’m coming with him. I want to ask him to help me escape. I don’t say a single word.

  Instead, I watch him. I can’t risk Nadia hearing me. She’ll rat me out in a heartbeat. I’m sure she’d want to watch my execution as well. I can see her now, cheering with a glass of champagne in her hand while my death is being ordered.

  The man smirks, taking a step back from me. “This should be fun,” he says then he turns and walks back into Nadia’s room.

  I shake my head, unsure of how he knew. I look over my shoulder, down the staircase, to see if Carmella is there. Did she tell him? Is he psychic? Shaking my head, I hurry into my own room, locking the door behind me.

  For the rest of the evening, I pace.

  When the sun rises, I pack a small bag with my personal items and toiletries. It isn’t much, as I don’t actually own much. When you’re a call girl, your items are provided for you, including clothes, none of them are actually yours.

  You may work full time, you may cost thousands for an evening, but you don’t actually see a dime of that money, at least a girl who is owned and contracted like me doesn’t.

  I’m leaving behind a career that was chosen for me. No friends, no family, and nothing of value, in hopes of actually being free, even if it’s just for a small sliver of time.

  DRAGON

  Dropping Kora off at school, I watch as she walks into the building, disappearing behind the glass doors. I let out a sigh, then turn toward my bike and rev my engine before I take off toward the clubhouse.

  Jaguar and Taz have been gone for about two weeks. They should be heading home now, money in hand, and product delivered.

  I have a million things on my mind, as always.

  Pulling into the clubhouse, I glance around the grounds. It’s quiet, there are only a couple of bikes here and I’m kind of fucking glad for that. I need to get some paperwork done and as much as I hate that, it’s needed.

  Parking my bike in my regular spot, I cut the engine and swing my leg off of the machine just as Gator walks out the door. He’s wearing only a pair of jeans and his boots.

  He stretches with a yawn and I shake my head. I don’t pretend to understand the relationship between him, Mamba, and Maria, I’m just glad that my brothers are finally settled.

  “You working on office shit today?” he asks, using the palm of his hand to rub the sleep out of his eye.

  I grunt as my response. I don’t want to do any of that shit, but that’s what happens when you’re the president, you have to do the fucking work you hate. Because if you don’t do it, it won’t get done. Some shit just cannot be delegated.

  “You need any help, holler. I got all my shit done yesterday, so I’m free today,” he offers.

  I lift my chin. “Thanks,” I grumble.

  “Oh, and Dragon,” he calls after I’ve walked past him. I stop, turning my head to look back at him from over my shoulder. “Get laid, man, you look fucking stressed.”

  With a snort, I lift my hand and flip him off, then stomp toward my office. Della is standing next to my door as I approach. She tilts her head to the side, her blonde hair falling down over her shoulder when she does.

  “I’m not listening to clubwhore drama,” I announce as I shove my key in the lock.

  She chuckles. “I don’t listen to that shit either,” she states as I turn my key and open the office door.

  Without being invited, she slips in behind me. I let her close the door as I make my way over to my chair and slowly sit down.

  The lights are still off and I don’t miss the sound of the lock being clicked into place.

  “Della,” I murmur.

  She hums. I watch her move toward me, she walks around my desk. Luckily, I can see pretty well from the small amount of light that’s spilling from the window. When she reaches for the hem of her shirt, I let out a grunt.

  “You and Jag have a thing, no way in fuck, Della.”

  She shakes her head, pulling the shirt completely off of her and tossing it onto the floor. “I’m still a clubwhore, Dragon. Doesn’t matter what he wants with me. Doesn’t matter about anything. I fuck and am fucked, it’s my job,” she breathes as she shimmies out of her shorts.

  Della stands in front of me, completely naked and my cock rises to attention. I’ve been inside of her on more than one occasion. She’s sexy as fuck, sweet too.

  She doesn’t need to be here in this place, with us. She was born with money and it shows, pouring out of her with every step that she takes.

  But Della, fuck, Della likes slumming it with us. Whether it started out because she thought Silver was going to save her or not, she likes what she has here with us now. I don’t think she would leave even if I asked her to.

  She reaches for my pants and I lift my hips, allowing her to tug them down. She’s right, even if she and Jag have a thing, she’s still a clubwhore, easy pussy to use and be used. And Gator is right too, I need to fucking get laid, and bad.

  Della expertly wraps her hand around my hard cock and strokes me, her eyes focused on mine as she does. She owns her sexuality, which is hot as shit. It makes her ten times sexier to me than someone who is shy and not confident.

  “Condom. Middle drawer,” I order.

  She grins, releasing my cock and opens my middle desk drawer, taking out a foil package. I watch as she rips the package open with her teeth then slowly sheaths my cock with the rubber. Della climbs on me, straddling my lap as she sinks down around my dick.

  Wrapping my hands around her waist, I squeeze her, forcing her to look down at me. She lowers her gaze to mine, her eyes wide and with a look of pure desperation crossing her features. Lifting my hand from her waist, I wrap it around the side of her neck and squeeze gently.

  “I’m not going to ask you what this is about. I’m going to fuck you, but babe, you gotta work your shit out,” I state.

  She nods. “Just fuck me, Dragon.”

  Against my own better judgment, I do just that. I fuck Della hard and fast, ignoring my conscience that screams at me not to. Fuck him. My dick’s getting wet, I’m relieving stress, and if that little fucker in my head doesn’t like it, he can just kick rocks for a little while.

  Chapter Three

  BELLAROSA

  Climbing into the trunk was easy. I just don’t quite know how I’m going to get out. If I don’t get out when Paul drives these men to their own vehicle, there will be no way for me to escape. I’ll be caught, then I’ll be as good as dead.

  The car stops after what seems like at least an hour of driving. I hear the doors open, then slam closed. Moving into the back of the trunk where it’s the darkest, behind a couple of large duffle bags, I’m thankful that I’m small enough to curl into a ball.

  The trunk opens and I see Paul reach in, grabbing the large duffle bags that have been providing my cover. He leaves the trunk open and I watch as all three men turn their backs and walk away from me. As soon as their voices fade, I inhale a deep breath and quickly scramble out of the trunk.

  A little voice niggles at me that Paul knows I’m here, that he left that trunk open on purpose, but I shove that thought away. He’s loyal, so damn loyal to the Famiglia. I know because I’ve had him in my bed before, he is not just a soldier, but a trusted driver to the Boss, to Gavino Santoro himself and I’m sure he’s his friend as well.

  Taking in my surroundings, I notice that there is a warehouse in front of me, along w
ith rows and rows of other metal buildings. I run straight toward a door an attempt to open it, glad to find it unlocked. Slipping inside, I hold my breath as listen to men’s voices float around the giant space.

  “See you next time,” Paul calls out.

  Then the giant rolling doors descend and close with a loud bang. “Fuck, I can’t believe we have to count all of this. Do you think Dragon would even notice if we didn’t?” a voice I don’t recognize asks.

  “He would, then he’d beat your ass for not following orders,” the voice I do recognize from last night in the hall announces.

  There is some grumbling and then I hear an interior door open and close. Inhaling a deep breath, I decide that it’s the perfect time to attempt to stow away in whatever kind of truck they came here in.

  Crouching down, I attempt to make myself as small as possible as I tiptoe through the warehouse. Keeping my head down, I don’t look at my surroundings, I don’t want to know what this room is here for or why these men have even come here.

  I just want out.

  I want out of the Zanetti famiglia house, out of New York, and if I could make my way out of this country, you better believe that I would take that chance and sprint.

  A large white truck takes up the middle of the warehouse. My heart races as I make my way toward it. The back doors are still open, so I decide to climb up and inside.

  The space is dark and empty. There is nowhere to sit, it’s just a giant box, but it’s better than being locked in my bedroom waiting for another man to fuck me—to use me.

  Crawling all the way to the back, I huddle down in the corner, sitting on my ass and bringing my knees to my chest. I stay there until my ass goes numb. Resting my cheek on my knees, I close my eyes and somehow, I fall asleep.

  The next thing I know, my entire body slides all the way over to the other side of the truck, slamming into the opposite wall of the one I’d been resting against.

  “Shit,” I hiss. “Now I’m awake.”

  Rising to my hands and knees, I’m knocked to my side again. Deciding to stay on my back, I pinch my eyes closed as my body rolls around the truck floor. There is nothing to hold on to, no reason to try and fight what is to come. I just have to hope that we stop soon.

  My prayers are answered, what feels like a lifetime later, when the truck comes to a complete stop. I wait, hoping that it isn’t just a red light or a stop sign and am rewarded when the truck engine shuts off.

  I hear voices outside, then some other noises, then I hear fluid. Fuel. We’re at a gas station. I breathe a sigh of relief, knowing that we’re away from New York, finally. The engine starts a few moments later and we’re off again.

  By the time we stop again, my entire body feels like one gigantic bruise. The cab doors slam shut and then I hear several voices, including a few women. I hold my breath, wondering if I should try and break out of this truck or not.

  Biting my bottom lip, I crawl over to the doors and attempt to open them. They’re locked. They don’t budge even an inch.

  “Fuck,” I whisper to myself.

  Then, as if my prayers, or maybe curses, are being answered, the doors fly open. I’m met with the dark gaze of the man I saw in the hallway the night before. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open slightly at the sight of me. The other man that was at his back last night is standing to the side, his face having much the same expression.

  “Holy fucking shit,” the man to the side curses.

  The man, Jaguar, shakes his head once before he lets out a bark of laughter. “Think Dragon will let us live this shit down, ever?” he asks, keeping his gaze pinned on me.

  I don’t know who or what Dragon is, but I don’t want to find out either. “I’ll just leave from here. I just, I needed to get away,” I rasp.

  The other man takes a step forward, his eyes narrowing as they roam over my face. “How old are you, sugar?” he asks.

  My eyes shift to my lap. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want to tell either of them. I feel dirty. A nineteen-year-old call girl. A girl whose virginity was sold at the age of sixteen. It’s wrong, I know that it is, and yet, that has been my life.

  “She’s young, Jag, really fucking young,” he grumbles.

  “Yo, girl,” Jaguar barks.

  Lifting my eyes to his, I attempt not to wither beneath his intense gaze. Tilting my head to the side, I wait for him to speak again.

  “You over eighteen?” he asks. I nod. Unwilling to tell him my age. He looks to his partner, then back to me. “How much shit we gonna get into if your handler finds you gone?”

  “Carmella?” I ask.

  He lifts his chin in affirmation.

  I shrug. “It’s not her you have to worry about,” I admit.

  His eyes darken a shade. “Santoro?” he asks.

  Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I nod. “My contract was set with Rossi. It was transferred to Santoro,” I admit.

  Thankfully he doesn’t ask me anything else. He grunts, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair. “Okay, we ain’t leaving you here though. You can come with us all the way home. We’ll let our president deal with your skinny ass,” Jaguar announces.

  “Don’t send me back to Brooklyn,” I beg.

  Jaguar shakes his head. “Save your pleading for Dragon. He’s the one you gotta convince, not us. Don’t give us any trouble on the way though, sugar. You may not like the way we punish you,” he warns.

  I snort, completely unladylike and a sound that goes against all of my training. Jaguar’s eyes widen. “If you think your punishment is something I haven’t had before, you’re mistaken,” I say, climbing down from the truck.

  Jaguar wraps his arm around my shoulder and tugs me against his side with a laugh. “Taz, I think she’s going to fit right in.”

  DRAGON

  I stare at my phone, unsure of what to make of Jaguar’s recent text.

  JAG: SURPRISE FOR YOU. BE BACK IN TOWN IN TWO DAYS.

  What the fuck kind of surprise could he have found on his way back from this run? Holy fucking shit, he better not have gotten himself, or my club, in any trouble.

  Running my hand over my face, I let out a growl. He did. I know he did. We’re going to be in a heap of shit, I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know when or who.

  Goddamn it.

  “Daddy?” a sweet voice calls out.

  Turning to look down, I grin at the sight of my little Koralia standing at my office doorway. I picked her up from the Boys and Girls Club just a little while ago. She fucking loves that place, but I have a feeling she just loves having other kids to spend time with.

  Unfortunately, the kids around here only come during parties, except for Buster, and I try to limit their time together. The little prick already has a thing for her, I can see it in the way he watches her. I know as they grow older, it’s going to turn into more than just a little crush.

  I’m not ready for that shit, not ever. I know that she’s only eight, but I also know that kids in this life grow up a fuck’ve a lot faster than others. I know because I grew up in this life. I was fucking girls at twelve, and whores by sixteen.

  “Yeah, darlin’,” I sigh.

  She looks at me with her sad eyes. I hate that they’re sad and I know that I’m the reason for that. Me and my fucked up decisions. Me keeping her mom for far longer than I ever should have. Me being the president of an MC doesn’t help either, I’m sure.

  “I got a project at school. I need to make a family tree,” she mumbles.

  I close my eyes, thinking about how fucking sad that tree is going to look. I don’t even know her mama’s parents’ names. I bite my tongue, wishing that I could call her teacher and chew the bitch’s ass out, but I can’t. She isn’t Esther anymore, and I know Est would not make this stupid fucking assignment.

  “Okay, let’s get you some paper and markers,” I offer with a grimace.

  Gathering all the shit she needs from the small supply of crafts that are specific
ally for her in the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet, I spread it all out on a small empty space of my desk. Kora pulls a chair up and sits, her feet dangling and not hitting the ground.

  “How do we need to do this?” I ask.

  She looks down at the paper, then back up to me. “I don’t want to put Mom on there,” she says softly.

  My heart breaks. Fuck. I’m a goddamn dick. Clearing my throat, I nod once. Then I spend the rest of the afternoon making a pitiful as fuck family tree with my daughter. But at the last minute, I decide that maybe this can be salvaged.

  “What if we added all your uncles here in the club?”

  Her big eyes, round and she looks up at me, a wide smile spreading on her pretty face. “I like that,” she nods. By the time we’re finished with her project, I’ve completely forgotten all about Jaguar’s odd text.

  “Ready to go home and get to bed?” I ask as she signs her name on the back of her picture.

  She drops her pen, lifts her big gray eyes to mine and her lips twitch into a smile, making her look far too fucking much like me. Then she tilts her head to the side and she leans forward.

  “Daddy?” she whispers. I wait, smiling at her without reservation. If I did nothing good and right in the world, but her, then I can die happy. “I want you to smile.”

  I frown, looking down at her, my eyes focusing on hers. “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Uncle Silver has Miss Presley. Uncle Wolfe has Miss Esther. Why don’t you have a wife?”

  I cough as I clear my throat. “I had your mama, but you know she’s not here anymore.”

  Kora stares at me intently. She sees too much of me, way too fucking much as her gaze assesses my own.

  “You and Mama were not like them, Daddy. I want you to smile like Uncle Silver and Uncle Wolfe smile.”

  My heart fucking aches at her words. She knew me and her mama were never in love, and I let her think that that was okay for eight goddamn years. I’m just as bad as my fucking father.