Road Tripped (Satan's Devils MC Utah #1) - Manda Mellett Page 0,97

to race, I yank at the chain again and again, hoping if I keep this up, a link might break or the concrete loosen enough for me to pull the ring out. I’ve got plans for this chain whether or not I can escape from the cuff. I’d revisited my thought about breaking the thumb, but having studied it, I’d have to break more than that to get free. There’s not enough play in the metal surrounding my wrist.

I’m angry. How dare they? How dare they take a woman from her home, wrest her away from everything she knows, from a life that she loves. From the man she’d like to get to know better.

Road. Yeah, well he’s been in my head a little more than he should have. What would it be like to have him submit to me, or, heaven help me, a little part of me wants to know what it would feel like submitting to him? Rather than me taking the lead as I normally do in any sexual encounters I have, I think I might trust him enough to let him use my body as he wants to. A shiver goes down my spine, and this time it’s not fear causing it. It leaves me wondering, would one night be enough?

Would one night be too much? If Road’s going to be part of the team, would it change the working dynamic between us? Yes, of course it would. We’d either both end up dealing with sexual frustration, or more likely, just one of us would while the other had gotten it out of their system. The utterly alien thought strikes me, I can’t say for certain that in Road’s case, it would be him left wanting.

But I never go back. I always find it easy moving on. Surely, Road hasn’t got something that’s able to smash down the walls I’ve carefully built up around my life?

What do I see in my future? A long road stretching off into the distance ridden alone, or somewhere along the way, would I want someone beside me?

I’m still young…ish. Thirty-three isn’t old, is it?

While still yanking on the chain and keeping one eye on the door, I allow myself to think, and of things I don’t normally let myself consider. Like where I’ll be in ten, twenty, thirty years’ time. A vision of me as a female version of Grinch comes into my mind. Someone whose whole life revolves around the club and motorcycles, no old lady, no children, no legacy for him to leave for the future. When he dies, the club will remember him, and maybe Brenda will too. But memories fade. Do I want to end up like that? In time, he’d be just a faded photograph on a wall.

Do I want loneliness like that? Or do I want to find a partner?

It’s always been a shadowy thought for my future. I haven’t seen me fading away all alone, but nor have I viewed the years laid out in front of me with any particular man by my side. But now, here in this cellar or wherever this is, when my future has possibly been taken out of my hands, how I’d like it to be shaped becomes clearer.

I can’t say the man at my side would be Road, it’s far too early for that. We might be incompatible in or out of bed. But if it wasn’t just the drink talking the night before last, maybe I’ll take Road up on his offer. At least I’ll hopefully get an orgasm or two out of it. It might be a mistake, but hell, I think I’d enjoy it.

For the first time since I awoke from my drug-enforced sleep, my lips curve. Then I redouble my efforts to get free. I’ll not have a chance of anything if I don’t get out of this predicament I’m in.

My eyes catch the movement of the door opening, and I swing around, ready for anything, wanting nothing more than someone to produce the handcuff key.

The first man, who seems to be the leader, enters. This time he has a gun trained on me. He gestures to the man beside him, who comes closer, looking at me warily, making sure I understand the unspoken threat of the gun, then dives for the bucket. His expression of disgust is clear to read and I don’t need more than his body language to scream what he’s thinking. Well, I’ve must have been held