Tink's Salvation (Satan's Sinners MC Book 9) Read online

  They drag me into the old walk-in freezer. It’s no use. I can’t escape. They out weight me by at least a hundred pounds each. I have no doubt Deuce ordered this before he announced he was leaving the city yesterday. One holds my arms behind my back stretching the muscles almost to the point of snapping.

  “You ready to talk?” Knuckle asks as he gets the chains in position.

  I feign ignorance, “Talk about what?”

  His big belly laugh rips through the small freezer. “You think we wouldn’t find out who you were? Deuce put a tail on you. Saw where you were going at night and followed that car back to Wichita a few times. He has insider knowledge of everything that happens. You with that club down there the Satan’s Sinners?”

  Fuck! I never once noticed a tail on me going back to Montera. I followed all of the rules. I kept my mouth shut…

  My wrists are bound with the chains. I try flailing around, hoping I can break free, but the more I move, the tighter they become.

  “It’s no use, you ain’t getting out. One more chance to talk.” The prick smiles a big cheesy grin.

  Still, I keep my mouth shut. No way will I give up my club. My clothes are cut and ripped from my body leaving me bare for them to do as they please. A thick brown leather strap is brought in by a member named Viper. He hands it over, and the first hard lick cuts across the back of my thighs with enough force that I jerk forward, hissing in pain. Two…Three…Four…Five…

  “You ready to talk, or you want more?”

  They can do what they want I’m dead either way. I keep my mouth shut.

  “Guess you want more.”

  Six…Seven…Eight…Nine…Ten…

  “Let me have a go,” Fist declares cheerfully.

  Punch after punch reigns across my face. I feel the swelling as his fists connect with my eyes, cheeks, chin, and lips. The taste of copper fills my mouth, and my head lolls to the side. The lashings begin again, biting into the flesh of my body.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been chained in this freezer being beaten repeatedly day after day, night after night. I don’t know how long I have left to survive the torment and torture that’s being inflicted upon me. I feel myself dwindling more and more. My broken body hangs lifeless, the circulation gone in my arms, blood and bodily fluids coat my naked flesh. The stench wafting from my very pores makes my stomach turn.

  The creaking sound of the freezer door opens once more. I pray for no more, I pray to a God I don’t even believe in to save me from the hell I’ve endured minute after minute, hour after hour.

  My prayers go unanswered when I recognize the voice of the man I played pool with. “You played me.” The sound of more chains clanking together draws my fear to the surface, and yet, a feeling of welcoming death overwhelms me. If it is my time to finally die, I accept my fate. He saunters around me in circles, and I only see flashes of his outline since my eyes are swollen practically shut. With each stomp of his feet hitting the metal floor, he whips the cold hard chain against my wound ridden body. I hiss out between my gritted teeth and split lips. He stops behind me. “With that long hair and thin body, you sure could pass for a woman.”

  I try to gather enough strength to fight against the chains that bind my wrists, but my body barely moves. I hear the faint sound of a zipper. My mouth too dry, I still try to beg, “No, please, no!” The words can’t even come out as a mumble.

  His filthy breath floats against my ear. “You fucked me with The Four Kings. Now, it’s your turn to get fucked.” A moment passes until I feel the raging burn that engulfs me. I pull against the chains and finding my voice, I scream in anguish. My body is thrust forward with the force of each unbearably pain-filled stroke he administers. The chains slice into the skin of my wrists, fresh metallic scented blood trails down my forearms. That’s the last I feel before my time comes. My hearing fades, the little sight I had vanished, my senses diminish, and I succumb to the darkness that wraps me in its embrace and pulls me into the unknown.

  “Hey, Kid, you gonna wake up today?” I hear the voice. Instantly, I know who it belongs to, Gunner. He always called me kid. “Some of the other prospects are takin’ real good care of your bike. Bear changed out your ignition and had a new key made for you since no one knew where your old one was when they loaded it up at that fuckin’ place the Four Kings called a clubhouse. C’mon, Kid, wake the fuck up.”

  I can’t shake myself out of the state I’m in, being sucked under over and over. I can’t pull my mind away from being stuck in that freezer. I’m not sleeping. I see the white of the ceiling, I feel the softness of the mattress beneath me, I hear the words of people in the room with me, I hear the sound of the creaking door when it opens and closes. I know I’m not in the walk-in freezer anymore, but I can’t move, I can’t do anything, I’m stuck. I can’t bring myself to the here and now.

  Twenty-two hits across my back, and I’m asked once again, “You ready to talk?” I can’t see his smug face anymore. My eyes have swollen completely shut, my lips burn from the cuts, and my flesh stings from the open wounds. Blood runs down my body and coats my face. I remain quiet. My beading sweat drips in the cuts and lashings burning me from the outside in. I don’t know how much more I can take. I grit my teeth as a scalding pain causes my body to shake uncontrollably. The stench of burning hair and skin fills the space as my flesh is seared by the red hot brander. He moves to my front, and the first cut of the leather seers into my skin. I scream out no longer able to hold it in. Laughter surrounds me.

  “You should see Chatty. She’s gettin’ so big. She’s only a couple months away from having our daughter. I wish you could wake up and see her. You gotta wake up, Kid. You gotta see my little girl when she gets here. Goddamnit, Kid, wake the fuck up!” It’s Gunner again. I recognize his voice. He comes to talk to me a lot, and I always hear him, but I can’t respond. I wish I could. But I can't because I don’t know how to break free.

  Ten…I make it to the number ten before their slimy voices start to fade in and out. Fifteen…I make it to fifteen before I lose consciousness.

  “How’s he doin’ today?” Gunner questions.

  “He’s moving more. I think he’s coming out of it.” Slowly, I turn my head toward the voices and feel a hand on my body. Lightning-fast, I scurry up the bed, tucking my head into my knees and rocking back and forth.

  “Tink, it’s okay. You’re safe.”

  A hand lands on my shoulder. I roar out in agony, feeling every lashing, burn, slice, violation I endured. “Don’t touch me!” My voice croaks.

  Feeling something ripping at my skin, my wild eyes snap downward to see what’s causing the pain. Tubes, lots of tubes. I grip them tightly, extracting them, throwing them across the room.

  “Hey, Kid.” Hearing his voice, I peek, peering out to the left of me. Tilting my head to the side, my eyes narrow, and my teeth are bared like a wild animal. He doesn’t look like Gunner. His hair is longer, and he has a beard. My eyes scan his features. He sits there with his hands out in front of him in defense. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. You’re back at the compound.”

  His voice, Gunner’s voice.

  “Gunner?” My voice is raspy from disuse.

  “Yeah, it’s me, Kid.” He reaches out slowly. “I gotta clean you up. You made yourself bleed by pullin’ them tubes out.” Looking down, I see the trickle of blood on my arm and stomach. I slowly nod. “Doc, hand me the shit to get him cleaned up.”

  My head jerks in the direction of the other man in the room. Doc. He’s a member of the Sinners, and I have to remind myself that he’s been taking care of me. My head darts wildly in every direction of the room…my room…I’m safe.

  They move carefully at a crawl. Gunner, taking the cloth and alcohol, gently cleans my seeping blood. I watch his every move without a word.

  “I gotta ask you somethin’, Kid.” Gunner’s eyes bore into me. They carry sadness as if he doesn’t really want to ask. “Did you talk? Is that how Deuce and The Four
Kings found out?”

  I shake my head as my gaze holds his.

  He nods. I get the impression that’s the answer he expected. “How’d they find out?”

  “I had a follow. They followed you back to the house.” My words come out raspy and ragged.

  He lays the blood-stained cloth on a table set up with medicine. “Okay, Kid. You need some water and food.”

  “I’ll get him some water, but the food needs to start slow,” Doc informs us before he leaves the room.

  “You good?” Gunner questions when it’s just the two of us.

  I shake my head and look down to try and hide my tears, however, when I get the first glimpse of all my scars, one trails down my face. My water-filled stare meets his. “You aren’t okay either. You’re in a wheelchair.”

  He solemnly smiles. “Don’t worry about me, Kid.” He releases a deep breath. “I’m so fucking sorry for what they did to you.”

  “Are they dead?”

  He nods. “All except Deuce.”

  I don’t reply. I stare at the wall in front of me. I’m silent even though a million thoughts are rambling around in my mind.

  Life seemed almost impossible to live from day to day. Even knowing I was back home at my parents’ house in Wichita, Kansas and far away from Boston, I still looked over my shoulder every second of the day waiting for Rex to appear. Even knowing Rex was spending an extended amount of time in prison after his confession, I still lived in fear. He broke me beyond repair that night. I flinched at the slightest of sounds and couldn’t be in the dark. That included when I slept at my parents’ house where I should feel safe, I had to leave my bedroom light on at night. Any time someone tried to touch me, I shrunk away. Rex ruined me; he officially shattered me like he always wanted.

  But it’s been three years and thousands of dollars spent in therapy since that night. I’m twenty-five years old and shouldn’t have to live my life in fear. I’m ready to start living again. I still have issues–I still can’t stand to be touched, and I’m afraid of the dark–and my nightmares come and go, but I want to try moving forward the best I can.

  “Mom, Dad?” I sit at the kitchen table while they prepare dinner. “I have something I want to discuss with you.”

  Mom lays the knife down on the cutting board she was using to chop vegetables, and Dad turns the stove off before they join me at the table. “What is it, Jorga?” Mom asks, worry etched in her features.

  My eyes drift between them. “I want to move out.”

  “Move out?” Dad asks, repeating my words back to me.

  “Yes.” I nod and add, “I think it’s about time I start trying to live my life again.”

  Mom’s brows knit together, and she appears nervous. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  Dad cuts in, “You’re not working though.”

  I counter, “I’m going to look for a job.”

  Putting her hand up, mom suggests, “Let’s take this one step at a time, okay? If you move out, you stay in Wichita, and we will pay your expenses until you do find a job. I don’t want you rushing into anything you aren’t ready for, Jorga. Doing too much at once could set you back. I would also prefer you to have a roommate.”

  My smile widens, and I am elated. “That’s perfect. There was actually a house listed on a rental site that I’m interested in. Mom, would you go look at it with me?”

  Her eyes shine with happiness. “I would love to.”

  We pull into the driveway of the gray craftsman style home with an attached two-car garage. It’s as wonderful as the pictures on the site. I glance at my mom in my peripheral vision. Her facial features are somber. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  Her gaze cuts to mine, her eyes shine. “I want to support you, Jorga, but a part of me hoped that it would be a dump. But this…it’s…so cute.” She has trouble finding her words. “I feel like I’m letting you go all over again.”

  “Aww, Mom.” Leaning over, I snake my arms around her neck. “I’ll come to see you and Dad all the time.” Releasing her, a smile is plastered to my face, and I bounce in the seat like a little kid. “Let’s go see the inside.”

  Ringing the doorbell, we wait a few seconds for the door to open. A tiny woman with the strangest eyes answers. They’re yellow like a cat and doll shaped. Her dark hair flows all the way down to her waist. She’s beautiful, and her smile is dazzling. “Are you, Jorga Lankford?” Her voice is bigger than she is.

  I nod excitedly. “Yes! Are you Dancer Holland?”

  “Yes. It’s so nice to meet you.” She holds her hand out for me to take, but my mom takes it instead.

  “I’m Jorga’s mom, Renee. It’s nice to meet you, Dancer.”

  “Nice to meet you too, Renee. Come in!” Dancer holds the door open for us to enter. “We have a two-car garage, one space will be yours. I have my Hummer in the other spot.” We stroll through the house as she shows us all the rooms. “This will be your bathroom.” I slide into the most beautiful bathroom I have ever seen. It has a walk-in shower with glass doors and is probably big enough to fit five people. There are his and her sinks, but in the middle is a vanity where I can sit and do my makeup–if I actually wore makeup. I’ve always been more natural.

  “This is beautiful!” I gush over the space.

  “It’s all yours and any guests, but I never have people over so…” Her words taper off. “Let me show you the bedroom.”

  Dancer opens the door, and I fall in love. It’s a huge carpeted room, but my favorite part of the entire space is the bay window that has a seating area. “Dancer, your house is unbelievable!”

  I didn’t think her smile could get any bigger, or mine for that matter, but it does when she says, “Check out the closet.” Gliding over to the door, I discover a massive walk-in closet, and my mouth drops open in shock. I knew the house was gorgeous from the pictures I saw, but I swear they didn’t do it justice. “Let’s go into the living room, and we can talk a bit more.” Following her out, we head back to where we started. Dancer sits on the charcoal gray loveseat while Mom and I sit on the matching couch. “What do you think of the house?”

  Responding, I gush, “It’s beautiful.” I cast my gaze downward for a moment before meeting her eyes once again. “Would I be able to make some requests if you choose me to be your roommate?”

  “We can discuss that but let me tell you cost first and see if it’s doable for you. Payment is 1,600 a month so we split that and all bills. Where do you work?”

  Mom jumps in, “Her father and I will be covering all costs until Jorga is ready to find work. Tell us a little about yourself, Dancer.”

  Dancer’s brows knit, but she quickly composes herself and her confused expression disappears. “I’m originally from New York but moved here a few years ago and bought this house. I work as a bartender at Stilettos—”

  She’s cut off by my mom, “Isn’t that the strip club outside of town? Is that why your name is Dancer?”

  “Mom!” I shriek under my breath and nudge her knee with mine.

  Dancer laughs. “It’s okay, Jorga. It is the strip club, but no, my job consists of only bartending. Dancer is my real name. My mom always said I danced so much in her stomach that the name fit.”

  Mom continues with the third degree, “That means you’re gone nights and Jorga would be left alone?”

  Once again Dancer’s brows furrow in confusion. “Yes, but if that’s a problem I can work something out. I can take a few nights off to help Jorga adjust. This might not be the best thing to say…” Dancer beams. “But the Satan’s Sinners, they watch out for me, and with them around, Jorga will be completely safe.”

  “The Satan’s Sinners?” Mom’s mouth flops open like a fish while my eyes grow to the size of saucers. I think both of us are a little flabbergasted. “Jorga, I think it’s time we go.”

  Composing myself, I stand firm that this is what I want, even if a scary motorcycle club is attached to it. “No!” I stare at my mom. “T
his is my decision, right? You support me, right?”

  Mom shakes her head in exasperation. “But, Jorga…”

  Taking her hand in mine, I am determined and explain, “It’s time for me to move forward. This house is beautiful and protected by a dangerous motorcycle club. I think I’ll be just fine.” A grin lifts my lips.

  She sighs heavily, her gaze narrowing on me. “We’ll keep that part secret from your father, got it?”

  “Got it!” My smile widens, and my attention drifts to Dancer. “My requests are my bedroom light stays on at all times no matter what. The lights in the house stay on. I can’t be in the dark. All windows and doors remain locked whether we are home or not, and when someone comes over, they announce who they are before the door gets opened. Don’t sneak up on me or try to touch me.” Shew! Demanding all of that out loud seems like a lot for someone to deal with. Hopefully, I didn’t just ruin my chances of living here.

  Dancer tilts her head side to side. “With all of that said, and no offense, but I should probably find someone else… there’s something about you though, Jorga.” She nods to herself. “I like you, and I think I can deal with your requests. I may have to ask for more money if the electric bill goes up.”

  I downplay the relief I feel. “No problem. I’ll pay the extra.”

  Dancer jumps from the couch. “Welcome to your new home, roomie!”

  Excitement overflows inside of me, and I can hardly contain it. This is my first step to becoming me again.

  I open Hacker’s office door. “Welcome back, stranger.” His grin disappears when he notices my straight face.