Salvation MC: Bought by the biker

Chapter 3

-AUDREY-

Luther scooted back, widening his legs and crossing his arms over his chest. His gaze flicked to the bedside table before narrowing.

"You didn’t eat."

Not a question. I hadn’t touched the food Alice left. My stomach had been too twisted to try.

She must’ve come back at some point, because the tray was gone. Only a bottle of water was sitting there now.

Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting an orange glow across his tanned skin. His mouth was pressed hard, thin lines crinkling at the corners of his eyes. He was older than I by at least ten years.

And he was incredibly handsome. You know the type they use in whiskey ads, all grit and heat? Yeah, that type.

I pushed myself upright against the headboard. The duvet was bunched around my waist, and the cool air felt good on my sweaty skin. My mouth was dry. I wiped the dried drool off my cheek with the back of my hand.

I probably looked like trash.

"Are you high?" His tone was low, dangerous. He looked pissed.

"No," I croaked, pushing strands of hair out of my face. "Not anymore."

My old captors used to inject a mix of whatever into our systems to make us easier to control. Some girls got hooked fast. Since they didn't use me for clients, they didn't waste their supply on me often.

But it still made me sick. I wasn’t used to it. Being a super nerd, I had never even smoked a joint before.

"You need food." Another statement. This guy was more into demanding than asking.

He stood and walked out without a word.

With a groan, I pulled the duvet away and swung my legs over the side of the bed. With Luther gone, my eyes swept over the room. Yesterday, my mind was too fuzzy to register the details. The clean lines, the large space, the black‑and‑white motorcycle photos framed on the wall. A tasteful bedroom, even if it lacked any feminine touch. And it carried his leathery scent everywhere.

A full flip from the dump without windows where I’d been kept. My old room was more like a closet. This felt like a six‑star hotel.

Now, with my mind clearing and the numbness fading a notch, feelings were starting to surface.

Sadness for the life I lost.

Regret for being so stupid and accepting a drink from a stranger.

Anger at the s*x traffickers who took us and who still keep my friends.

And dread of whatever Luther planned to take from me.

He came back into the room, a tray in his hands. He crossed the room with steady steps and set the food beside my thigh.

"I don’t know what you like. But everything Fox cooks is great, so you’ll like the chicken soup." His expression softened into something almost shy, which didn't match the rest of him at all.

I licked my dry lips. "I’m not hungry."

My stomach growled loud enough to betray me. Luther chuckled, the sound low and warm, and something weird fluttered in my belly.

"You're a terrible liar, dove. Now eat."

What was up with this feeding‑me thing? Probably some sort of Hansel and Gretel situation, where he wanted me to get fuller before getting his way. God knows my lack of curve only got worse with the horrible food — or the lack of it — from the place I’d been kept.

When I didn't reach for the tray, Luther frowned.

"What's wrong? Why don't you want to eat?"

His tone deepened a notch. He was probably thinking I was going to starve myself.

"What's inside it?" I eyed the chicken broth, the bread rolls, and the tea on the tray with suspicion.

"f**k if I know." He rubbed the back of his neck, then his eyes sharpened. "Ah, I get it."

He tore a bread roll, dipped it in the broth, and ate it. After swallowing, he said, "See? No poison. No one wants you dead, dove."

"The dope takes a while to kick," I muttered under my breath. I knew it first-hand. My captors used to lace food with drugs.

"It's clean, Eileen. I swear."

He held a piece of bread near my lips. The hollow ache in my stomach was sharp enough to make me stop caring. I needed food.

I opened my mouth. His fingers brushed my tongue as he placed the bread inside. My eyes shut for a moment at the buttery taste. When I opened them, Luther's face looked strange, almost pained.

"It's good," I answered, reaching for the spoon and tasting the broth. It was rich and warm, a hint of nutmeg in the background. Luther was right; I'd never tasted a chicken soup so good in my life. And I grew up in a house with an in-house chef in the kitchen.

He watched me eat half the tray. He didn't look thrilled that I stopped, but he didn't push. Thank God. I wasn't used to eating that much, and more would've made me sick.

He lifted the tray and placed it on the bedside table before sitting again beside me. I scooted away, eager for some distance, and he frowned again.

"What now?" His dark eyes went from the arms I wrapped around myself back to my face.

"Are you going to r**e me now? Or are you going to wait until I'm curvier?" I wished the words sounded stronger, but unfortunately, they barely made it out.

"Jesus Christ, dove!" He jerked back and jumped to his feet. He pushed the long strands of his hair away with force, huffing. "Is that what you think this is?"

"This?" I asked, confused. "You bought me and placed me in your bed. You think I'm too skinny for you, right? That I'm too flat and plain."

"f**k! No!" His jaw dropped, and he was pacing now in the room. Then he dropped on the bed again, this time careful to put some distance between us. "I only bought you to keep you safe, Eileen. When I watched you in that dump, a young girl dressed like a w***e for auction, I couldn't let those bastards get you. How old are you? Eighteen?"

"Twenty." I dragged my teeth on my bottom lip. "Why am I in your room then?"

His hands closed into fists on the duvet. "Because this is the safest place in this house. You looked s**t scared, and I wanted you to feel protected," he snorted. "Guess that backfired big time."

"So..." I rubbed my hands nervously. "You really were not there to buy girls?"

"No!" He made a disgusted face. "I'm the president of a bikers' club, MC Salvation. We've been tracking those motherfuckers, traffickers, for a while. That night was supposed to be recon, but I lost my temper and blew everything up."

I remembered the explosion and the flames cutting the dark sky. "You killed everyone."

"Only the bad guys," he said, as if it didn't make him a vigilante. "The girls are safe and went home."

I should feel fear again. But I hated those men, hated how they treated me, hated the ones who were willing to buy girls like we didn’t matter. Also, something he said gave me hope.

I wanted to believe him. God, I wanted to. But hope was a dangerous thing, and I didn’t trust it.

"Can I go home then?"

His face stretched into a smile. And if I didn’t think he was handsome before, he upgraded his game. The guy was pant‑melting gorgeous when he smiled.

"Of course, Eileen."

I didn’t know what to do with the relief creeping in. I barely recognized it.

"Audrey," I corrected. "My real name is Audrey."

"Audrey." His tone was soft, as if he was testing the sound of my name on his lips. "It suits you, dove." He got up and headed for the door. "I'll let you get yourself together. When you're done, come downstairs. We'll take you wherever you want. Home, airport, anywhere."

"Thank you, Luther," I rasped, my nose stinging. "I will just... take a shower. I feel super gross."

He watched me stand up and reach for the bathroom. But before he left, Tank busted into the room.

"Prez! The Vipers are here. They attacked."