“Go get the cuffs out of Candy’s room.”
I look to Rad, curious about his reaction to Stacks’ tone of voice.
Rad skips down the steps like he’s a fucking kid until he’s out of sight. What an idiot.
“This is your plan, to keep me on a leash?” I scoff at Stacks. He sighs, irritated with everyone at the moment, and ignores me. Rad returns, taking the stairs two at a time before handing Stacks a pair of black fuzzy cuffs.
God knows how many times those have been used. Gross.
Stacks cuffs me to the radiator and stands.
“Walk down the stairs, I wanna see how far you can get,” he instructs, his voice devoid of any empathy that he’s locking a pregnant woman to a heater.
Glaring at him, I don’t move. He might treat me like a dog, but this bitch doesn’t do tricks.
Fisting the chain, he jerks it, the metal clacking against my ankle bone making me cry out with pain.
“Move!” he hollers, and before I even think about giving him more attitude, I’m stepping down the stairs, the slide of the chain against the hardwood floor behind me loud and echoing through the foyer.
I make it all the way down the stairs, the smell of cigarette smoke and pizza stringing through the air, reminding me of a bar Delilah liked to go to when she was wasted.
God, Delilah. I miss her ass so much.
“Go left,” Stacks orders, his harsh tone making me grit my teeth. Crossing my arms in an attempt to control my anger, I do as I’m told, coming into a kitchen. It’s old and outdated, the fridge white and bulky, and the stove just as gaudy and ugly. I make it to the island in the middle of the kitchen, the sandy pink colored top chipped and showing parts of the wood underneath.
Not able to go any farther, I look over my shoulder at Stacks, wondering what the hell I’m supposed to do with such limited reach.
“We can put some food on the island, and you can come get your own shit.” He grunts, pulling some bottles of water from the fridge and setting them on the counter.
Rad pulls a banana free from a clutch of several from across the kitchen; out of my reach and holds it out to me.
“Want one?”
My stomach growls, reminding me how hungry I am. I reach for it, and he jerks it out of my reach, laughing mockingly. My brows narrow, pissed at being treated like this, anger getting the best of me, I grab the toaster and throw it at his head. He drops the banana, yelling out with pain.
Stacks snatched me by the arm.
“Cut that shit out!” he hollers in my face.
“I’m not just going to be treated like this and do nothing about it.” I defend myself. Stacks’ shoulders raise with an angry breath, but I never break eye contact. If they wanted a prisoner that was scared and timid, they shouldn’t have taken a biker brat. I’ll make them question their own sanity before this is over.
Rad points a sharp finger in my direction. “I’mma kill that bitch!” I lift my chin, ready for him to attack. I’ll beat him with a water bottle if I have to. Rad’s around the island in a hurry, grasping me by the neck. Snatching a bottle of ice cold water, I begin to pound him in the back of his head with it.
Within seconds, Stacks backhands Rad so hard he’s thrown over the island, his flailing arms and legs knocking pots and pans from the dish drainer on the floor.
“Don’t fucking touch her!” Stacks roars, his reaction catching me by surprise.
Rad stands up pathetically. “Did you see what she did?” he yells. “And you’re just going to have her walking around the damn place?”
Stacks gives me a look, I glare in return before he shoves me toward the doorway of the kitchen. “I’ll make sure everything is out of her reach.” Stacks leads me into a room across the hall. “TV,” he clips, his tour of the house basic. Walking farther in, the chain around my ankle lets me get as far as the far left cushion of the couch. Taking a seat, I can’t even scoot back. A coffee table sitting right in front of the couch holds a remote, candles, and magazines. Leaning forward, I outstretch my hand, and I can’t reach the remote on the table in front of me. Stacks snatches the candles, taking them across the room and sitting them on an end table. I have to bite back my grin, he’s afraid I’ll use them on someone.
An old TV sits on a wobbly stand, two bookshelves on both sides overstuffed with magazines. The walls are an off-yellow color, one corner by the ceiling stained from a leak.
“You’ll have to watch whatever’s on the tube, it’s better than being in your room.” Stacks shrugs, kicking the coffee table a couple more inches away from me just to be safe.
Dick.
Rubbing my forehead, I want to riot, jerk at my chains and show this place what they’re really dealing with.
They let a devil in their lair and I want to burn it to the ground. Show them what I’m really made of.
“What the fuck?” I hear Candy’s voice from the other room and I stand.
She comes shuffling into the living room with the best resting bitch face I’ve ever seen, blue jeans, a bikini top on, she looks great. I hate having a beautiful captor, kidnapper. Hell, I don’t know what you’d call her.
“What the hell is this?” She gestures toward me, looking at Stacks with an intense stare.
“I ain’t taking her ass to the bathroom every time she needs to piss, and I ain’t feeding her either. She’s a grown-ass woman—”
“She’s going to escape, you dumb fuck!” Candy leans down and gives the chain a jerk. Testing its strength. I wince, the metal against bone bruising quickly.
“Nah, she ain’t going anywhere. Just need to make sure anything that’s not bolted down is out of her reach.” He tosses his thumb over his shoulder just as Rad walks out of the kitchen eating a banana, a red goose egg shining on his forehead from where I hit him with the toaster.
Candy cricks her neck to look at what Stacks is referring to and starts laughing.
She turns, putting her hands on her hips.
“I underestimated you.” Her lip curls with amusement. “You’re a little hell-raiser, aren’t ya?”
Her tone of sincerity, like she wants to be my friend, makes me sick to my stomach. I hate her, and if I could, I’d strangle her until her eyes bugged out and mouth went lax. She’d be my first kill, my trophy, the one you never forget. Zane would be proud.
“Underestimate me, please. It’ll be fun,” I threaten, her friendly face replaced with flared nostrils.
Stepping around me, she grabs a pack of cigarettes off a chair cushion, lighting one. Blowing smoke into the air, she rests her barefoot on the table, her elbow bent and palm tilted up holding her lit cig.
“So, how far along are you?”
Biting my cheek, I turn around, crossing my arms and looking out the window that’s behind the floral couch. People walk back and forth with parts in their hands. Candy’s little tribe of outlaws, scrap vehicles and whatever else they can get their hands on.
The heat so intense you can see it in waves. “You still hoping Saint’s comin’ honey?” her tone condescending. Just hearing his name makes my chest ache. She doesn’t know anything about Saint, I mean, I’m still learning who he is but one thing is for sure, he’s a Devil. And anyone who crosses the Devil’s Dust MC, will be the next body in our rural graveyard.