Exquisite Karma (Iron Horse MC Book 4) (17 page)

Shit, she’d fried her brain. I’d dealt with her like this before and knew talking to her was like talking to a self-absorbed brick wall. Still, I had to try, so in a desperate attempt to appeal to her as I mother, I whispered, “Billie, you have to get me out of here. I’m pregnant.”

For a long time she said nothing, then mumbled, “Oh, that’s terrible.”

“What?”

“Terrible. Curse of bad mothers, rotting minds, was hoping I was the last.”

“What are you talking about? What curse?”

“You’ll hurt your baby, won’t be able to stop yourself. Bad mother—just like me.”

Her voice was growing weaker and I tried to get through to her before she passed out. “Please, at least take off the hood.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can, just lift it a little bit. Please, it’s hard to breathe.”

For a moment she touched my face, but it was only to lift the hood enough to sit higher on my chin. “Don’t dare. Saw what they did to her. Made me watch. Cut her into little pieces, slowly. Died in agony.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Thought she could run, thought she could disappear. I told her not to, but she wouldn’t listen.” Her voice came out in a terrified rasp. “That’ll be me if I betray him!”

“Betray who?”

For a moment she paused, then whispered, “Chief.”

“Just help me get out of here and I’ll keep you safe, I promise.”

“I can’t.”

“Please, Mom, please. Don’t you know what they’re going to do with me? Don’t you care that your pregnant daughter is going to be sold to some psychopath? What is
wrong
with you?” She abruptly stood and my body rolled slightly on the bed. “Mom?”

“I need my medicine.”

Shit, she was going to escape reality again by frying her brain with more drugs. Typical response—avoid, pretend it isn’t happening, and take a vacation from reality while I was left to clean up her mess. Despair tried to sink its hooks into me, but I wouldn’t let it. I was still alive, and as long as I was alive, there was hope.

I had no idea how long I lay there, Billie had stopped responding to me other than the occasional soft snoring sound. My mind kept wanting to show me images of Poppy being raped and tortured, of little pieces being cut off of her, and my emotions flipped between fear and rage.

I hated being helpless like this, hated being at the mercy of monsters, and hated my mother for abandoning me to this. Maybe she was right, maybe I’d become like she was and be a terrible mother. Maybe there was something genetic that made me predisposed to going crazy. After all, at one time, Billie had been the best mother any little girl could ever want.

Faint memories of being cuddled by her, smelling nice and sweet, while she read me stories in bed filled me, and I tried to stop the tears filling my eyes from falling.

The door to the room opened and I tried to sit up out of instinct, forgetting for a moment that I was tied up.

A man’s high-pitched voice yelled, “Shit. Yo, Fez, Billie’s takin’ a fuckin’ nodder.”

“Chief wants Billie down in Texas, now. I don’t give a fuck if she’s dead; he wants her, he gets her.”

“Why the fuck would he want that old, diseased piece of junkie trash?”

“Who the fuck knows, but he’s not payin’ me to ask questions.
You
carry that fuckin’ nasty skank. I don’t want all the cum she’s taken today leakin’ out on me.”

I yearned to strain against my bindings, to yell at them not to talk about my mom like that, but I was helpless in my fear. The hood rode up just enough that I could see a line of light and I held on to that illumination, needing to chase back the feeling of being trapped that rode me like a rabid beast. My arms were tied together, and each of my legs tied to what I assumed were sturdy bedposts.

There was movement around me, then silence. I realized Poppy was no longer screaming and found out why a few minutes later, when someone entered the room again. There was a dragging sound, then a thump as someone, or something, was placed on the bed next to mine.

A woman’s soft moan of pain filled the room and I bit back an answering cry of sorrow. I was sure it was Poppy, and I was also sure she was hurt, probably badly. Even through the hood I could smell the tang of blood and my stomach lurched.

My heart pounded a punishing beat as I stayed as still as I could, not wanting to draw any attention to myself even as my bound hands shook. I swore I could feel someone looking at me, and the sensation wasn’t a nice one.

My suspicions that someone was next to me were confirmed when a high-pitched male voice said, “Look at this, Beach’s fuckin’ old lady strapped down like a sacrificial lamb. Makes me hard just thinkin’ about how much that motherfucker is gonna hurt over losin’ you. Thinks he’s so fuckin’ good, better than the rest of us, bet he ain’t feelin’ so high and mighty now.”

I refused to give him the satisfaction of answering him at first, but when he jerked my pajama top down, along with my bra with the tracker in it, baring my breasts, I gave a small scream of furry, which was met with an explosion of pain as he hit me across the face.

“Shut up, bitch. I ain’t gonna fuck you, but I
am
gonna come all over these pretty tits of yours. I wanna know that while you’re being broken in by your new Master, you’re gonna be covered in my fuckin’ jizz. I should pull that hood off and paint your face, make you eat it—yeah, I should make you eat it then my cum would be inside’a you and Chief couldn’t get mad about me fuckin’ you.”

I lurched with the need to vomit, trying with all my might to fight it back. The act of violation the stranger above me was about to commit took backseat to the primal need not to choke and die. The thought of puking inside the hood was terrible enough to give me the strength to suck it back. The edge of the hood came up far enough to expose my mouth and I swore I could feel the brush of air from his movements next to my face. A nasty, sweaty, musky male smell filled the air and I gagged.

“Uh-uh, you puke on my dick and I’ll make you suck it off. So fuckin’ pretty, shame you’re gonna disappear off the face of this Earth. Where you’re goin’, they ain’t never gonna find you.”

Helpless tears of rage soaked the fabric clinging to my upper face and I strained to see something. Turning my head to the side and tilting it up, putting his small, dirty dick unfortunately close to my face, I could make out Poppy on the other bed, illuminated by a faint hint of sunlight. She appeared to be passed out, and an alarmingly large amount of blood soaked the sheets around her. All of her shirt was saturated with it, and the wet fabric clung to her flat chest as she drew in faint breaths. She’d been beaten, bad, and her face was all fucked up.

A sob escaped me before I could stop it and the man above me grunted.

“Open up, bitch. Let’s see if you suck as good as your mommy. Maybe I’ll fuck that skank and make you suck me clean again after.”

My mind snapped and I lost it.

He pressed the tip between my lips and before he’d gotten more than an inch inside, I bit down,
hard
, with a savage intent that would have made any predator proud.

Skin, muscle, and veins gave way as I jerked my head, determined to hurt him as much as possible.

Blood filled my mouth and I involuntarily released his now-mangled penis from my death grip, and knew I’d come close to severing his dick in half.

His shrill scream filled the air for a few brief seconds before loud explosions boomed through the house in a rapid burst of gunfire.

The mask had slid up farther and I craned to see what was going on but could only make out a man, probably in his early forties, cupping his blood-soaked groin while he screamed and screamed. Or at least I think he was; I could only see his contorted face as he stared down at his dick in shock. I couldn’t see what kind of damage I’d done, but my churning stomach had had enough. Bile filled my throat and I turned my head as much as I could, straining to vomit away from myself.

The lights overhead flickered, but it was bright enough outside now that the illumination coming through the windows revealed the shapes of two people armed with AK-47s entering the room where I was being held with surgical precision. I couldn’t see their faces, they wore some kind of black nylon hood that left them totally unidentifiable, but their bodies were well muscled and they moved with the efficiency of trained killers. They spotted me and Poppy, then swung their guns around and onto the man holding up his blood-painted hands.

He was pleading with them, begging them to help him. My hearing was gradually returning and I could read his lips. Something about needing a doctor and me being a psycho.

Another figure came through the doorway and I just about shrieked with relief. The tall, slender woman was dressed from head to toe in black and as she removed the black nylon mask obscuring her face, I began to chant her name.

Mimi.

She swiftly removed the hood then cut me loose while the two men with her split up, one taking the man I’d injured from the room, the other going straight to Poppy’s side.

In less than five seconds, I was free and in Mimi’s arms.

I was covered in blood and puke, but she hugged me close anyway, her strong shoulders jerking as she cried against the side of my neck. I instantly crumbled and began to keen as I held her close to me, disbelief that I was alive and safe stripping all my defenses bare.

When I began to cry so hard I was hyperventilating, Mimi sat back and coached me through it, calming me down until I was no longer panting and shaking. Once I got ahold of myself, Mimi took me into the small bathroom attached to the room I was in and shoved me into the shower, clothes and all, then washed me like I was a child. I rinsed my mouth out and scrubbed at my lips, wanting all traces of that nasty bastard’s blood off me. We didn’t speak and I was grateful for the silence that let me concentrate on not going to pieces in hysterics.

When her hand smoothed over the bump of my belly, I stopped her and held her palm there for a moment, our eyes meeting in a look of understanding shared by all mothers.

After I got out, she had me strip off my old clothes and handed me a pair of red sweats with “Princess” in sparkles on the butt and a faded black t-shirt with the logo for some bar I’d never heard of. The shirt was a bit tight, but the sweatpants fit well enough. I almost asked Mimi where she got them, but decided not to. I don’t know if my brain could take the idea that I might be wearing my mother’s clothes.

Turning to look at myself in the wide mirror over the beige-tile sink, I just stared at my gaunt reflection. Jesus, I looked like the poster child for some natural-disaster movie. Deep circles made my eyes appear sunken and my lips were chapped and puffy from being scrubbed so hard in the shower. My cheekbones stood out more than I’d ever seen and even my throat looked fragile. I was running on empty and about to crash.

But first, the half-full bottle of strong mouthwash on the vanity.

As I gargled and spit about twenty times, Mimi clued me in on what had happened. Evidently she’d gotten a tip from a friend who informed her that the woman she was looking for was spotted up by Klondike Mountain west of Boulder. While Mimi had been formulating a plan of attack with some of my dad’s buddies, I’d been snatched up, along with Poppy.

At the mention of my friend, I finally stopped rinsing and faced Mimi.

“Poppy…is she okay?”

Looking me right in the eye, Mimi didn’t try to bullshit me. “She’s been beaten, possibly raped, and has a couple stab wounds to the abdomen.”

“Is she…is she going to make it?”

“I have my doctor working on her right now.”

“You brought a doctor with you?”

“Of course.” She gave me an odd look. “I know your father trained you to handle all situations solo, but we really need to work on your team-building skills. Things go wrong on missions and having your own trusted medical source nearby is essential. Really, Sarah, give me some credit.”

I stared at her for a long moment then nodded. “Right, how silly of me.”

“Come. I wish I could spare you this, but we need to question the men that were holding you.”

“Oh God, the moving vans, are they still here?” I had to reach behind me to grip the sink, the enormity of the situation sinking into me. “Did—did we find all the stuff?”

The smile lines around her eyes deepened. “The vans are still here, along with what we believe is the majority of the merchandise, including some things that weren’t on the ledger Beach supplied us.”

It took a great deal of effort to keep from collapsing in relief. “Thank God.”

“Very much so, and the Blessed Virgin.”

“So what do we do now? Does Beach know we found it?”

“No, he doesn’t, and he won’t.”

“Why the hell not?”

Mimi closed the door then stepped closer to me. “Because there is a traitor we still need to catch, and tomorrow night at the Iron Horse MC clubhouse will be our best chance to do it. According to my sources, the Sokolov
Bratva
was behind the attack on Swan earlier, a desperate move on their part.”

“And do you know if…and mentally? Has she gone…is she still with us?”