Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,91

tilts his head to one side, then his smile broadens, and his body moves in a way that makes me think he’s laughing. Then he shakes his head, moves to the door and leans around it.

I read the clues. He’s talking to someone else. I suspected he wouldn’t be alone.

I’m right. It’s not long before another man appears. This one, I feel is more dangerous. Unlike the first one, he doesn’t come close. He mouths something very slowly, and I wish I’d taken more time to learn how to lip read, but I can’t make what he’s saying out.

“I’m deaf,” I repeat.

He taps his lips.

This time I hazard a guess what he’s asking. “I can’t read lips, but I sign. And read. I’ve a little hearing in my left ear if you speak loudly and clearly up close.” Perhaps if I get them in the habit of getting near, I’ll have them where I want them when I make my move. “Wh-who are you and why am I here?” I try to put a quiver in my voice. The last thing I want them to guess is that I was so nearly a member of one of the world’s most revered and feared army units.

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Whether he’s refusing to tell me even if I could hear his response, I don’t know. He doesn’t approach so I have a chance to hear. He might not know I’m an ex-soldier, but he’s still taking no chances with that chain.

“Please, let me go. I don’t know why I’m here.” I tap my left ear, a plea for him to speak so I can understand.

His lips move out of habit, but it’s no good. The two men glance at each other, their shoulders shake once more, then with twisted smiles, they leave. Once again, I’m alone.

The bastards like that I’m deaf. There are ways they could have addressed my questions in a manner I could have understood, but they prefer the additional torture of leaving me in ignorance.

My hands curl into fists, my short nails cutting into my palms. I’m kidnapped, I don’t know why or who by, and even if he had been explaining, I couldn’t understand.

Instead of focusing on what I don’t know, I try to consider what I do. I’m not sure of the time, when they took me or when it is now, but Pip will know something’s wrong as my systems failing would have raised an alert in the clubhouse, and maybe by now will have realised I’m missing. I know my brothers will leave no stone unturned to find me. Every one of them will play their part, bringing their particular skills into play. My house will be forensically examined by Honor and/or maybe Duty. Stormy and Piston will be scouring the deep web for clues and Snatcher will assemble a team to follow up on anything they find. I’ve just got to hang on, be patient and wait.

I can do patient. I can do any fucking thing I put my mind to. It’s not like I’ve not been in a similar situation before, it’s just, last time, I had my hearing.

Being deaf is inconvenient at the best of times and especially right now. I need to pee, desperately. It’s not using the bucket that I have a problem with, though I do find the concept that after I’ll have to sit here smelling my body’s waste unpleasant. My problem is, I feel vulnerable enough as it is, without being able to hear means I’ll have to chance my captors walking in unheard, catching me with my pants literally down. But needs must. I do the necessary as fast as I can, feeling better once my bladder is relieved.

Then I go back to doing the only thing I can to help myself escape. I attack the ring the chain is attached to again.

Positioning myself so I keep one eye on the door, I pull, wriggle and kick the iron loop trying to see if it will loosen. My activity is an outlet for my frustration, but whatever I do, that damn ring holds firm, with not even a crack in the concrete.

Fuck. In disgust I look down at the cuff around my wrist, it’s too tight to get my hand through. I try, but even when I’ve rubbed the base of my hand raw, the blood doesn’t help ease it off. I could break my thumb. I could, though that doesn’t