Skirt (Ruthless Kings MC #5) - K.L. Savage Page 0,70
section that is broken, but it’s welded in such a way where it opens like a door. He pushes against it and throws me through. To my left is a small tent where he has been staying, covered in leaves and twigs. It blends right in.
“Aidan?” I hurry to my knees and desperately crawl over to the tent. I don’t care about the burning in my hand, the blood I’m leaving as a trail, and how badly my feet hurt. I want my son. I spread the lapels of the tarp and see a sleeping bag, water bottles, and a lamp. I rustle through the sleeping bag, knowing Aidan isn’t here, but wishing like hell he was. “Where is my son?” my voice rasps.
“Safe for now,” he says, grabbing me by my hair. “Get moving.”
I trample my way through the woods, snapping the twigs under each step and shivering from the cold. The blanket fell back at the compound. I hope someone notices it. The further we get away, the less likely it will be for Skirt to find me.
When we break through the trees, there’s a van at the edge of the road, a complete rust bucket that looks like it has seen better days. “Are you going to take me to my son? Please, I’ll do whatever you want, just take me to him. Where did you keep him? Why did you do this?”
“Because of your disobedience!” he roars, pinning me against the truck. He lifts my injured hand and licks the blood and dirt that is caked around the cut. “You need to fucking listen to me. Why do you think I dumped you in the desert? For you to spread your legs like a whore for some biker scum? No. You were supposed to come back to me, on your knees, ready to take my cock down your throat with how sorry you were for disrespecting me in front of a fellow fighter. And you didn’t come back to me. Do you not care for your son at all? Are you so selfish to just fuck your way through life and forget all about the poor little baby who seizes and needs you?” He pouts his lip. “Taking care of that damn burden is annoying. I didn’t want to be stuck with him. He’s broken. He’s disgusting. I wish he was never born; that’s what I get with fucking you bare, right?” Cohen gets himself worked up and runs his hands down body, cupping my breasts and rocking his erection against my stomach. “I’ll continue to fuck you like that too, all raw, until there is no doubt you’re pregnant again. Maybe you’ll learn your place, bitch. At home. No back talk. Raise my kids, fuck me, feed me, and repeat. Am I clear?”
I sneer, hating him more every second that he spews his venom. He puts the knife between my legs and the tip of the blade cuts through the cotton and sharp edge presses against my clit.
He is crazy. Crazier than normal. Keeping me alive is important to him, but why?
“Come on, baby. Don’t you remember how good it was between us? It was hot. Sexy. Don’t you miss it?” He opens the passenger side door and pushes me in, keeping the knife trained on me.
“I never miss anything about you.” The words are dead as I speak.
“I’ll be glad to remind you later.” He hops into the driver’s seat and cranks the engine. A belt screeches and causes my ears to ring as he pulls away, keeping his hand on my thigh and knife pointed to the space between my legs.
I lean my head against the window and have a small pity-party. Why is this happening to me? I don’t understand. How did I get mixed up in Cohen? How can I escape him? My fight is leaving me. Cohen’s cruelty outweighs me. He isn’t the kind of person to share strength with; he’s the kind of person to soak it up until there’s nothing left.
He seeks to destroy.
Skirt brings out the best in me. The strength, bravery, the will to fight for myself, and Cohen, he steals it. He doesn’t want a woman who is as strong as him, so his goal is to always put her down.
A tear rolls down my cheek as we drive off into the night, away from the place I’ve called home for two weeks, away from the man who taught me more about love in two