Simple Ride (Hellions Ride Book 6) (7 page)

Well, baby, she better hold on tight
because she’s not alone anymore. I’m going to find the fucker that
hurt her, and I’m going to make him pay.

~Pamela~

Mistakes happen when people get
distracted, and I am officially distracted as I make my way to my
trailer. My heart hurts that Boomer would think he could pay me for
my time. I thought Boomer and I had something semi-real.

Who am I kidding? He knows nothing
about the real me. If Boomer knew my past, he would have never
touched me in the first place. To think he could pay me cuts
deeply, though.

I’m not a hooker. A whore, obviously,
but it happened for a reason. I needed a place where I felt safe.
The Hellions gave me that until he found me. It’s been a good run,
but now it’s time to move on.

Without thinking, I step inside, my
mind on Boomer. It needed to be on survival, because I make it two
steps inside before I am grabbed from behind, his breath hot on my
neck.

“
Hello, dear,” he snarls as
he tightens his forearm around my throat.

I pull at him, but he is bigger, and I
have never stood a chance against him.

“
I think it’s time we have
a little chat. First, though, we should get reacquainted. It’s been
a while, lover.”

My veins run cold as his
free hand gropes my breast.
No, no,
no.

He turns me around and pulls at my
shirt while I fight to keep my arms down. Then he reaches in his
pocket and out comes a box cutter. Effortlessly, he cuts the
material from me.

I move to break away, but he pushes me
to the living room floor. The old carpet is rough against the skin
of my stomach.

His elbow comes down on the back of my
head as he pins my face into the carpet. The box cutter blade
flashes before he presses it to my cheek.

“
Now, now, be still,
Pamela. We wouldn’t want to stain more carpet with your blood,
would we?”

I fight the urge to vomit.

He straddles me, grinding his erection
into my denim-covered ass. “Before we get to the fun stuff, I need
to know where my boys are.”

I say nothing.
Kill me, asshole
, but I
will not speak.

He grabs my hair and lifts my
head.

Wham!
He slams my face into the floor. Pulling me back, he does it
again and again. My nose cracks, and blood runs down onto my lips
then pools on the old, worn carpet.

“
Where are my boys,
Pamela?”

Again, I say nothing, and he releases
my head and moves the box cutter from my cheek down to my
neck.

Flick
.

The blade nicks my skin. It burns, and
the air hitting the opening only makes it sting further.

He leans down. “I’m gonna check my
marks. Better be still, or I’ll give you more.” He licks the wound
on my neck before pushing off me. Then he slides my jeans and
panties down.

My face throbs, blood is running down
onto the carpet, my neck burns, and my ass is now exposed to
him.

The slap comes before I can brace,
surely leaving a handprint behind on my bare bottom. He trails the
box cutter over my back and down my ass cheeks, making me aware
that he’s in charge, before he scoots my knees under me, spreading
my pussy open. After he rubs his calloused fingers over the lips,
feeling every raised circle he created, he laughs, and I dry
heave.

“
Feels good. Remember when
I gave you these?”

Like it was fucking
yesterday.

Tied to our bed, I’m
immobile and exhausted. He has fucked me for hours. The little blue
pill said to call the doctor if you have an erection lasting more
than four hours, we have to be close to that mark now.

The smell of sex and
cigarettes assaults my nose.

“
Let’s have some fun.” He
laughs his evil laugh that only lets me know I am in more trouble.
“You’re mine, Pamela. No one else’s. I’m going to make sure
everyone knows this pussy is used.”

Before I can contemplate
what he means, the cigarette comes down on my pussy lip, the cherry
burning into my skin before extinguishing. I cry out in agony. I
fight the ties on my wrists and ankles, only causing them to cut
into my skin farther.

He blows the ash off my
lips, offering no relief to the raw skin.

I brace myself, try to
contain myself, as he relights the cigarette and does it again.
Over and over, he burns marks into my lips.

The adrenaline finally
leaves me limp, defeated.

Hell has a special place for men like
him. He just can’t seem to get there fast enough.

After he finally passed out that
night, I soaked in a cold bath for an hour, trying to ease the pain
between my legs. Using petroleum jelly diaper creams from the boys,
I tried to minimize scarring, but the tissue was damaged. I healed,
but the marks remained.

Everything with him has been one scar
after another, whether physically or emotionally. He has left no
part of me unbattered.

His fingers plunge inside me. “This
can all be over. I’ll stop if you tell me where my boys are. I know
you wouldn’t be far from them. I’ll find them, Pamela. Tell me now
and I’ll stop.”

I can only lie here and wish for a
quick death. Let my boys be free. Let him never find them. I’ll
take their location to my grave.

I’m in agony with every
touch.

My will is gone. He wins.
He has finally broken me beyond repair.
Those are my thoughts as I feel him enter me from
behind.

I am done.

Chapter Seven

~Boomer~

If she doesn’t answer this
door, I’m going to break it down,
I think
right before I hear movement.

It’s a damn trailer. I could rip the
shit off the hinges. What kind of game is she playing?

“
Pamela, I’m not fuckin’
around. You’re gonna tell me what’s going on. Open the door,
dammit.”

Shuffling, whimpering … She doesn’t
answer.

“
Pamela, it’s Shooter.
Look, the club just wants to know you’re okay. If you don’t want
Boomer here, at least talk to me. We’re blind here, and that’s a
fucked up place to put us. Open the door or we open it. Last
chance.” Always the calm one, Shooter goes to his truck and comes
back with a flat head screwdriver.

We hear the sound of the back door
slamming, and Shooter takes off to the noise while I shove the flat
head into the lock and pop it. I am met with the resistance of a
chain, and looking inside, my heart stops.

Pamela is on the floor, face down,
crawling to the couch to pull herself up. She is naked and bleeding
from her face and neck.

I throw my shoulder into the door and
the chain flies off. I rush to her.

Her swollen eyes meet mine, and she
shakes her head back and forth as I approach.

“
No, Boomer, fucking
no
!” she
screams.

I drop to my knees, helpless in front
of her.

There is nothing to humble a man and
bring him to the brink more than seeing someone he cares about
violated in the worst of ways. It’s written all over her demeanor.
How much has she endured?

“
Pami, please.” I drop my
head into my hands. I need to touch her, to comfort her.

“
You need to leave,
Boomer,” she says with each word cracking. “This isn’t about you or
your club.” She moves around, getting dressed as I sit helplessly
on my knees in her living room.

When I notice her blood stains the
carpet in front of me, I break a little more inside.

“
Pami, please let me help
you.”

“
It’s my burden to bear,”
she says, pulling on her pants and wrapping her cut shirt around
her. “I need you to leave.”

“
Look at me,” I whisper,
hearing Shooter come back inside. He stands in the end of her small
hallway, and I shake my head to get him to stay. The last thing I
need is for her to get more spooked.

She finally looks at me.

“
He’s gonna die, baby. You
need to know I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him.”

As tears fall down her face, she
reaches out to touch my beard yet stops short. “Boomer, let it go.
Let me go. This isn’t your problem.”

Her words are like a knife to my
heart. For the first time in forever, I feel something, and she is
rendering me helpless. Emotions well inside me, tears threatening
to fall. I am a man, but I am not strong enough to watch her being
hurt.

“
Anybody give it to you
better than me, Pami?” I ask her, knowing the answer. She told me
time and time again and it wasn’t just the orgasms.

“
Boomer, let it
go.”

“
You’re mine, Pami. You’ve
been mine since the moment I breathed you in and you made my heart
beat again. I’ve done bad things for stupid reasons. I’ve done good
things for the wrong reasons. I’ve been to the edge of never and
wondered why I was still breathing.

“
You, I’m still breathing
for you. My heart is still beating for you. As broken as I am, I am
who I am for you. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it whatever
the fuck you want, but I was made for you. I was made for this
moment. Nothing in my life will ever compare to being able to bring
you back from the brink. Pami, please, I’m begging.” I let a tear
fall. “Tell me what is going on and tell me who did it so they can
pay, and baby, you can be safe.”

She looks around as if she’s looking
for him, and once she sees Shooter, she stops.

“
He’s gone. Went out the
back door, probably because he was outnumbered, fuckin’
pussy.”

Pamela slumps down onto the couch as
if she has lost the world. Shooter doesn’t move, and when I start
to, he shakes his head at me.

“
Been through this with
Tessie, Pamela. You know that,” Shooter says calmly. “I need you to
breathe through it.”

I look at Pamela who has paled in
front of me, and I watch as she starts shaking. It kills me not to
comfort her, not to hold her, not to be able to tell her and show
her it’s going to be all right. Somehow, some way, I will get her
through this.

“
Gotta breathe, Pamela.
Inhale,” Shooter tries to talk her down from the shock that is
setting in. It’s not working, and dammit to hell, I need to do
something.

I move to the couch then pull her to
me, and she screams out and beats on my chest.

“
Shh … Pami … shhh. It’s
me, Boomer. Breathe, honey, breathe. You gotta breathe with
me.”

I take a deep breath as I hold her
against me. It takes a moment, but she settles and begins to
breathe with me. Then the sobs come, and I hold her through them. I
don’t care if I am here in this very spot for the next week; I will
hold her through it all.

Shooter leans against the wall, typing
a text, most likely to Doc Kelly so we can get Pamela checked
out.

I rub my hand over her hair, feeling
myself calming as she relaxes against me.

“
He’s gonna kill me,” she
whispers between crying hiccups. “He’s gonna kill me this
time.”

The words slice into my
soul …
this
time
. What has this woman lived
through? Who the hell is this man?

I swear on everything I believe in
that I’m going to make him pay. She will be free and safe from him
if it’s the last damn thing I do.

~Pamela~

I was sure I was going to die today. I
was certain, once he finished fucking me, punishing me, I was going
to die at the hands of my husband.

I sit up, pushing myself off Boomer,
and promptly throw up all over my ugly, green carpet. Shame left
the building the day Dennis burned his marks into my
pussy.

I should care that Shooter and Boomer
have found me in the worst way possible. I should care that I puked
all over my floor without trying to get to the bathroom. I should
care about a lot of things. I don’t.

The only thing that matters is my sons
are safe … for now. He hasn’t found them. The level of violence he
has resorted to today shows me he means me harm, and he doesn’t
know where they are. He probably thought I would cave.

He was wrong.

Shooter and Boomer showing up stopped
him from inflicting more damage, but there is no way I was giving
up my sons, no matter what he did to me.

As if it happens every day, Shooter
goes into the kitchen and comes back with paper towels to clean up
my mess. He then brings me a cup of water while Boomer moves my
hair from my face and sits me on his lap.

My body aches, but I don’t have the
energy to make a sound.

I want nothing more than a bath and to
sleep. Then again, Dennis is probably watching, and the minute I’m
alone again, he will come back and finish the job.