Salvation MC: Bought by the biker

Chapter 2

-AUDREY-

My hands clung desperately to Mr. Blacksmith’s waist, my cheek pressed against the hard muscles of his back.

Behind us, the club burned, its orange flames cutting through the dark sky. By the time the endless desert swallowed the view, the wail of fire engines had faded into the distance.

Around us, the bikes thundered through the cold, dry night like angry bulls charging across a field.

Twice I considered letting go of the stranger I was holding onto and letting the asphalt take me. It felt like a cleaner way to end the nightmare I’d been trapped in, instead of waiting for the biker to claim me.

But every time my grip loosened, Mr. Blacksmith seemed to read my thoughts. His calloused hand came over mine, large enough to cover both of my hands and press them firmly against the taut planes of his abdomen.

"Forget it, dove," he rumbled, his voice vibrating through his back and into my cheek. "I won’t let you slip away."

After the second attempt, I stopped trying.

I must have dozed off, because when my eyes flew open, we had arrived. The bikes were parked inside a garage, and Mr. Blacksmith was helping me down from his.

I swayed, exhaustion and the drugs catching up to me, but he caught me before I hit the concrete. He pulled me against his side, his tattooed arm steady around my middle.

"This way," he said gruffly, guiding me toward what I assumed was their compound.

We passed a surprisingly beautiful garden—something I never would have expected from a group of rough bikers—and entered a large two‑story building. In a sitting room that smelled like a strange mix of oil and brandy, a group of men stared at me as if I were some odd creature they’d never seen before.

A tall man with dark skin and cropped hair stepped into our path. He was handsome in a way that reminded me of a young Idris Elba. His brows were drawn tight, and his tattooed arms were crossed over his chest. Anger radiated off him.

"What the f**k, Luther," he growled. "We agreed to lay low, and you blow the club apart?"

"A bunch of maggots, Tank," Mr. Blacksmith—whose first name I have now discovered was Luther—spat back, not even slightly intimidated by the mountain of a man glaring at him. "Drooling in a flesh market. There was nothing there worth saving."

Tank's brown eyes bounced to me, pressed against Luther's side. His gaze moved from my high heels, up my bare legs, to the leather jacket covering my middle. The perusal was slow, almost like he was checking inventory. His eyes stopped on Luther's hand locked around my waist.

"And then you decide to get yourself a sample?"

"I couldn't leave her there." Luther shrugged, like the quarter million he'd tossed wasn't real. Had he paid? Or had he taken me before they got his money? Either way, the result was the same. I belonged to the biker now.

Tank huffed, his eyes scanning my features with a bored expression. "I guess she's pretty," he said, and Luther's fingers dug into my waist. "But do you think it's worth the trouble? Paris will flip out."

"Leave Paris to me. She's my problem."

Tank looked like he wanted to say more, but Luther cut him off.

"Watch your step, Tank. Last time I checked, you're my second in command, not my president." Tank's shoulders dropped an inch. "Call everyone. I want a club meeting in ten."

"Where's your sister?" Luther's eyes swept the room. "I want this girl scrubbed out of this cheap perfume and fed. She's skin and bones."

"Now, prez?" a red-haired guy on the left asked. "It's almost three in the morning."

"No, next week, Fox," Luther snapped. "We can drink beer and flip burgers while the skin traders bring a new shipment to town." Luther's voice was pure steel, and Fox, who was also a big guy, flinched. "Church, now!"

The guys in captivity were not skinny or nice. There's still a sore spot on my right side, a reminder of a kick I got once. But Luther could turn those men into a puddle with one blow. He was that terrifying.

And the thought that I'd have my first time with a brute like that made my body shiver. It was a strange feeling, since I'd been in a state of complete numbness lately.

"Bring the girl to my room. And get her warmer clothes, for f**k's sake!" Luther barked, taking my fear for cold.

A tall, dark-skinned woman materialized out of nowhere. She stepped forward and pulled me from his arms. I guess she was Tank's sister because they shared the same warm brown eyes and the same features.

"Come with me, honey. I'm Alice."

Alice led me to the second floor, the back of my head prickling with the awareness of being watched. On the landing, we went down a corridor to a room in the back.

When we stepped into a huge en‑suite bathroom and she turned to leave, I frowned. Wasn't anyone going to prepare me for her boss like before? Would I finally get a moment of privacy? Small mercies, I guess.

"You can use that towel over there. There's a fresh set of clothes by the door," she said softly, pity threading through her tone.

The women who bathed me earlier had been jealous of me being auctioned like a breeding cow. Alice wasn't. She felt something close to empathy.

It didn’t matter. I knew what came next. I was still going to be used and abused by her boss.

I dragged myself into the shower stall and rubbed my skin until it was red and raw. The sickeningly sweet perfume and the strong makeup were gone, but the dirt never went away.

My captors didn't take my virginity, but that doesn't mean they didn't use my body in other ways.

And no matter how many times I washed myself, I could still feel tainted.

I picked up the clothes she left and was surprised to not find anything remotely sexy. There was only a large T-shirt, leggings, and a sweatshirt.

When I stepped out of the bathroom fully dressed, with my hair dripping down my back, Alice was waiting with a sad smile.

"There's a sandwich for you and some orange juice," she said, pointing to the bedside table. The idea of eating made my stomach twist. She probably noticed, because she added quickly. "Or you can sleep first if you want. You look tired."

I was more than tired. Exhaustion clung to me, heavy and bone-deep. That, combined with whatever drug they'd pumped into me to keep me compliant, pushed me toward the large bed.

The next moment passed in a blur. I remember the softness of the covers, the scent on the pillow, and Alice's low voice whispering something about me being safe.

It wasn't true. I was bought by a ruthless man who torched the club where I was auctioned and brought me to his room. A man dangerous enough not to care about the vesper nest he poked.

But I let myself believe her for a moment and drifted into a deep sleep with strange dreams of strong men riding bikes in the sky.

I had no idea how much time had passed, but when I woke up, a pair of dark eyes watched me across the room. His gaze was filled with intrigue and, if I wasn't mistaken, something close to hunger.

Sitting in a chair close to the bed, Luther leaned forward, elbows on his jeans-clad thighs. His stubble looked darker, like he hadn’t shaved for another day. My eyes fell heavy for a moment in a slow blink. How long had I slept?

But one thing was clear. My time was up. The biker was here to claim his prize.

"Good, you're finally awake," he said, a muscle clenching in his jaw. "It's time we got to know each other, dove."