Colt (Devil's Nightmare MC #10) - Lena Bourne Page 0,11

I blame Griff. He’s surly, mean, and gruff all the time, and his men take after him. Monarch was loud and liked to be the center of attention, and his men were a lot like that too. There was a bunch of followers too, the kind that type of personality attracts.

And why the fuck am I even thinking about Monarch?

He’d like to kill me as much as the Sinners want to, I’m sure.

But as long as I keep my thoughts on positive things, things like fighting and finding a way out of here, I’m fine. As soon as I start thinking about where I actually am, my mind starts drifting to horrible things I’d rather not have in my head.

Like never seeing my mom again. She might not be all there in the head anymore, but she has good days and it’s not her fault she lost her mind. She misses me. I know she does.

Or Monarch. A brute and a taker, but he never left me wanting for material comfort.

Or Stormi and how I’d like to scratch her eyes out for leaving me here. Or hug her and apologize for being such a bitch that she had to.

Or how I deserve to be in here for being such a bitch to everyone all the time. For being such a user. For getting a man killed.

No use thinking about any of that.

I did what I did to survive.

It’s a dog eat dog world out there, kill or be killed. My dad often said that too. Men used me and I used them. Just like I would’ve used that long-haired stranger to get me away from the Sinners, if he’d just stayed long enough. Just like he’d use me for his pleasure. On and on and it never ends. Unless it ends for me tonight. But I won’t think of that either. Because it’s useless too. Right now is all I have.

I have no way of telling the time here, but I’m pretty sure a full twenty-four hours have passed since they locked me up. I’m also pretty sure it’s dark outside, although I only have a drop in temperature in this smelly cell—which is the same one in which they kept me that first night I was here. It reeks even worse of blood and piss now. My own in the case of the latter. I tried to hold it as long as I could, but in the end, it was either piss on myself or piss on the floor. Both bad choices. Animals are fucking taken better care of than I am.

I’m starving again. My bottle of water is completely empty and dry besides. Just like my mouth.

The next time someone comes in here to bring more, I’ll put on the charm and try to talk myself out of this cell. I don’t want to think about how bad that’s gonna go with my failing skills in that area and the aroma of fresh piss surrounding me. But I’m gonna give it my all.

And as if my luck finally turned, the door leading into this rickety jailhouse bangs open, and at least two sets of boots come thumping towards my door.

“Hey, who’s there?” I ask in my most seductive voice, which is raspy and throaty now, sure, but also hoarse as fuck.

“Did you hear something?” a guy asks gruffly. I think his name’s Mouse, but I’m not sure.

“The bitch isn’t passed out yet, I guess,” another guy answers and this I know is Crow—a mean, black-eyed Irish guy whose wavy black hair is always greasy.

I probably have no chance in hell winning either of these two guys over. They’re both as mean and cold as they get.

“Can I have some more water, please?” I ask anyway.

They laugh as one of them unlocks my cell door. The fluorescent light outside is so bright compared to the faint yellow one in my cell that it slices right through my eyes and into my brain. It’s so painful, I have to close my eyes. When I open them again, they’re both standing right in front of me.

“Aww, look, she got up for us?” Mouse mocks.

“What’s that smell in here?” Crow mutters.

“I know, it’s terrible,” I say. “Won’t you guys take me out of here? We can go somewhere more comfortable. I bet Griff won’t mind where you keep me, as long as you keep me.”

I think I elicited some interest in Mouse, because his eyes glint with desire, but Crow’s remain as