Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,88

If they don’t, then it’s them I should be worrying about.

“If she’s not incapacitated, they won’t know what’s hit them,” I tell him, a little more confidently than I feel.

His sharp eyes find mine. “You like her, Road? I mean, really like her? Last night you were coming on to her strong.”

“I was drunk.” But I’m not going to deny it. “But hey, drunk or sober, she’s a fuckin’ attractive woman. Strong as steel on the outside, but with a soft core.”

His eyebrows rise. “Nothing about Swift is soft. She’d bust your balls.”

But I’m not so certain. Though one thing I am sure of, I’ll be doing her no favours when she returns for her to have become the victim of jokes about me mooning over her. “You know her better than I. But hey, last night I was drunk. Sober, I’d steer clear as I value my junk too much. I’ll use a hangaround if I want to get my dick wet.” Speaking of which… “Any problem if I use her bathroom?”

“Nah, I checked it out.”

I take a long much-needed piss, immediately feeling infinitely better, then wash my hands. While I’m certain Snatcher will have already searched, I open the cabinet above the sink, noting its contents. There’s a box of condoms, which under the circumstances I should ignore, but instead my dick perks up as I think of sinking into her depths. I bang the heel of my hand against my head. Focus. It was unlikely before that I’d ever fuck her, but now she’s gone, I might never see her again. That thought is far more painful than I expect.

Resting my hands on the edge of the sink, I bow my head for a moment, vowing silently that while I don’t have a clue about how I’m going to do it, I’ll do my part to bring her home. Then, maybe, I’ll take my chance with her sober. Christ knows whether she’ll give a grunt like me a second look, but she’s gotten to me in the very short time I’ve known her. I’ve never met anyone like her.

I take the opportunity of splashing cold water on my face, then putting some toothpaste on my finger, do an inadequate job of cleaning my teeth.

“You taking a shit or something?”

“Be right out,” I reply. But before I do, I stare into the mirror, not seeing my face, but hers instead. I’ll move heaven and earth to find you, Swift. Might not have a clue how to do it, will have to be guided by your brothers, but I’ll do my best. Just hold on. We’re coming to get you.

21

Swift…

I’m deaf.

I’m alone. But I’m not in my home. There’s a cuff around my hand that’s fastened to a chain about six feet in length, and that, in turn, is fixed to an iron ring cemented in the wall. I give it an experimental tug. It holds fast.

I’ve been taken. But where and by whom or why, I don’t know. I rise to a sitting position, putting my hand to my head. I feel dizzy, my head throbs and I’m nauseous. I can’t remember anything after going to bed and falling asleep.

I add the few clues together. My physical symptoms suggest I’ve been subjected to chloroform or some drug to render me unconscious, I must have fought as there’s a bruise and graze on my arm, but I can’t remember. How had it happened and why the hell hadn’t my security system worked? The technology I’d put so much faith in hadn’t alerted me that someone had invaded my home. While I wish this was a nightmare, I’m very much awake and aware I’ve been kidnapped.

My hearing aids? Well, they are the first things I look for, but whoever took me, hadn’t brought them, or if they have, they’ve not left them out for me.

A wave of panic rises inside me. I can’t hear anything.

I can see and touch. I taste a sour flavour in my mouth, and smell a stale odour but it’s not enough. I can’t hear voices that might give me clues as to what’s happening, nor footsteps that could warn me of someone’s approach, or even a rattling to show the door’s being opened. I’m helpless.

No. I can’t think that way. As I feel the onset of a panic attack—the ones that can overtake me ever since I woke up and found my hearing impaired—I consciously try to slow down my breathing, trying to stave off