Biker’s Collar: Property of Scrap (Rebel Barbarians MC #6)

Chapter 8 – Scrap

Eight

Scrap

Present Day

I let the rage build up in me as I got the work done so by the time I get Southpaw’s permission to take one of the women for myself, my anger feels dangerous. I don’t need to go to prison to know when the rage inside me is too much. I’ve felt it at the poker table. At the blackjack table.

I felt it the morning I woke up and discovered that I had been taken for a fool by a woman that I had been foolish enough to open up to. She saw me at my worst. She made me feel like I was more than a screwed up degenerate gambler. As it happened, I thought every moment with her was special. Real. More real than the fucked up situation with Kaylee-Marie that led to my daughter…

I thought I was having a baby with the woman I would spend forever with. But that was never meant to be. I must have known deep down from the start because I threw a goddamn grenade in that relationship. I just wish it never had to affect my daughter.

Glancing at Vickie’s face in the rearview mirror causes that rage to throb straight through me, all the way to my dick. My dark urges keep getting both stronger and darker. It’s been so many years. I thought for sure that I got over this woman. I told myself that she was the typical Vegas scammer and I would never see her again, and she didn’t matter. But then, I saw her. And all those raw painful feelings rose to the surface.

She has the good sense not to speak until I park the truck in front of my cabin. By then, it’s dark and my back aches from burying bodies. My head aches from having to talk to my brother. My soul aches from not having the night to unwind in front of a poker table or at least betting on a minor league baseball game. Nobody bets on baseball these days, so it’s easy to hit a parlay if you spend a couple hours a week studying the stats…

“Where are we?” Vickie asks when the engine stops. I would rather listen to the cicadas than hear her voice. To be honest, I don’t even know why I brought her here. If I wanted her dead, I could have handled that. True punishment would involve leaving her fate up to Gideon Blackwood or my brother. The Indian girls have Oske and their tribe to look after them.

Who the fuck does Vickie have? It must be nobody if she’s here. Completely at the mercy of the man she scammed years ago in Vegas.

“We’re at my cabin in the woods,” I respond. She doesn’t flinch despite my clear intention to scare her. So she wants to make this difficult? I don’t even know why I brought her here. Anything can happen depending on which of my emotions take hold.

“You remember me?” She asks. Our eyes meet in the mirror. I have to bite my tongue to avoid asking her what the fuck kind of question is that?

“Yes, Vickie. I remember you.”

Again, she doesn’t flinch. Again, I intended to scare her. Frustration mounts in my chest, but I have to hide it. I can’t let her see that after all this time, she still has the ability to yank my emotions out from under me. I’m the one in control here and I can keep it that way.

“Get out of the truck but if you run… Keep in mind, I’m not afraid to shoot.”

She doesn’t respond, but she doesn’t run when she gets out of the truck. I don’t bother opening the door for her. After the utter humiliation this woman subjected me to, the last thing I’m going to do is open the truck door and treat her like a fucking princess. I still walk around to the passenger side where she stands so I can get a good close up look at her.

I remember her being taller — and skinnier. The woman in front of me added to her curves. She has large, natural dark brown tits and I have an excellent view of her cleavage from above. Just like the first time I saw her at that seedy ass club, one look at those tits is plenty to make my dick rise. Standing this close to her, I get a whiff of her natural musk.

I have no control over how my dick responds. I become aware of how tight my pants are around my thighs and crotch. My desires and emotions blend into a whirlwind of something dark and unpredictable. Thick, big tits, utterly under my control and best of all… nobody around for miles to hear this woman scream.

“You remember me,” I tell her. “Or you wouldn’t be so damn scared. It’s a smart instinct, Vickie. I’ve been thinking about you for a long time and not all those thoughts were pretty.”

Cold. She left me so damn cold. And that’s how she looks at me now. The wall behind her gaze only infuriates me further.

“You lied and manipulated me when I would have let you go,” I continue, the anger that was building in my chest forcing its way out. “You drugged me, robbed me and fucked with me at my worst. I’m glad we met again because the only thing I want is to hurt you the way you hurt me.”

Again, she doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t show any emotion. Her unwillingness to bend even slightly to my desires infuriates me. My gaze wanders over her body as my darker instincts force a search for the most fragile part of her to grab onto. To break.

Calm yourself, Owen. Be patient. Be fucking patient…

The one emotion I sense crossing this woman’s face is vicious hatred.

“You’re not some saint,” she says. “Your brother still paid me to fuck you.”

“You are so full of shit.”

I don’t know what the hell is happening to me. Nothing gets my temper up like this. I never allowed myself to feel this much rage. Not for Vickie. Not for anyone. It doesn’t help your poker game to let your emotions in. Doesn’t help when you win and it doesn’t help when you lose.

My calm, emotional center has been an asset in my life, at the poker table, and with the club. But this woman… she makes me feel unstable. And she does it while giving me this cold, furious look.

“That’s exactly what happened,” she responds viciously. “You lost every last cent you earned at a poker table and I was a consolation prize.”

Nothing could be further from how I remember her. I almost have too much pride to tell her the truth but it doesn’t matter anymore. I hardened my heart to women after the incident with Vickie and I have no plans of softening it. The intimacy of the truth can’t drive us apart anymore because Vickie will have to violently claw out an escape if she wants to get away from me.

“You weren’t a consolation prize,” I say to her. “I liked you. From the very second I saw you years ago. I liked you.”

She makes a desperate effort to disguise her surprise. But it shouldn’t be a shock to her. I got down on my knees for this woman and spread her lower lips with my tongue. When she told me that a man had never eaten her pussy before, I went down on her again and thrust my tongue index finger deep in her asshole.

She acts like it didn’t matter. Like the sex meant nothing because it happened in Vegas.

“You didn’t like me.”

I grab her cheeks. Hard. She tries to stifle a squeal but I can see that I finally caught her off guard. Not just that, but I finally have control over her. Her cheeks feel so soft between my fingers and the surge of power I get from just taking what I want is goddamn intoxicating. Her jaw makes its best efforts to clench as I hold her, but she can’t do a damn thing I don’t allow her to do.

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me how I felt. Matter of fact, I want your ass to stay quiet right fucking now unless I ask you a direct question. We’ll be sleeping in the cabin until further notice.”

I let go of her cheeks. A flicker of outrage visibly surges through Vickie as she makes another mistake.

“I’ll talk if I want to.”

I slap her so hard across the face that she yelps. Not quiet, but at least she’s not talking back. She grabs her cheek as she dramatically leans backwards against the truck.

“YOU SLAPPED ME!” She screams. Then she looks at me like a fucking wildcat and the damn woman jumps on me with a confidence of a pit bull in a dogfighting ring with a three legged chihuahua. Her legs wrap around me and the force of her thick ass jumping on me knocks us both over.

I haven’t been in a fight like this in a while, but the second my back hits the ground, my instincts take over. You don’t grow up the youngest Shaw without getting into a few scraps twice as bad as this one. I grab Vickie’s body and roll with her once we hit the ground, pushing her onto her back and grabbing onto her wrists as she flails desperately, making every effort to scratch the fuck out of my face with her untamed talons.

We sound fucking ridiculous. It’s quiet except for the cicadas and the sound of grunting as I pin Vickie’s arms over her head and get close to subduing her. She grunts and shifts as I get a better grip on her wrists and then use my hips to keep her on the ground. She struggles harder when she feels my hips pinning her down. But maybe it’s the other thing happening between my legs scaring her.

Good. That should scare her. It sure as fuck scares me to feel how hard her fighting gets me and to know that the harder I get, the only thing I can think about is how there isn’t anyone around for miles to hear her scream. And even if there were folks around, they would all be Barbarians. Our people…

Her knee nearly makes contact with my groin, prompting me to take controlling this unhinged woman more seriously.

“BE QUIET!” I roar at her. She freezes, but she only gazes up at me with even more defiance. The headlights from the truck haven’t turned off yet, but our only source of illumination will be gone in a matter of seconds. The warm lights offer me just enough time to see just how much Vickie hates me.

“You slapped me,” she says, as if saying it back to me will convince me that slapping her was a bad idea. And as if the slap wasn’t her fault entirely from being completely fucking impossible.

I was right about this woman’s audacity.

“You deserved it,” I sneer at her. “And you know that you deserve so much worse.”

Her face contorts with that impeccable hatred again and Vickie makes her situation ten times worse by spitting in my face. Her position on the ground stops the ball of spit from landing and it sputters up before landing in the dirt near her face. But the gesture is more than enough to piss me off. The outrage shuddering through me forces a pulse of energy through my dick, making Vickie squirm more.

“Pull some shit like that again and I’ll lock you in a dark basement for a week. With rats.”

I hope my basement doesn’t have rats, but I’m willing to find a few to put down there if that’s what it takes to keep Vickie’s ass in line.

“I hate you,” she snarls at me. “Just know that. I hated you from the second I saw you. I hated you in Vegas and I hate you right now.”

She knows it hurts me. She can see it on my face. That means this unbelievable woman is spewing this venom at me with the sole intention of hurting me.

“Good,” I snarl back at her, playing the game Vickie wants so damn badly. “It always feels so much better to cum in a woman’s mouth when you know she hates your guts.”

Vickie makes a noise halfway between a grunt and a scream again, but I respond to her last ditch effort at escape by slamming her back on the ground with the full force of my body.

“No,” I growl at her. “You stop this fighting, fussing and fucking around, or I promise that every night you’re with me will be your own personal hell.”

“I hate you,” she breathes desperately, but she doesn’t fight back against my grasp.

“You can hate me all you want,” I reply. “But you will obey.”

I release her palms and get up — mostly because it’s dark and just about time for us to get into the cabin. I reach down to help Vickie up. She wrinkles her nose at my hand like it’s covered in diarrhea, but she doesn’t have much of a choice if she doesn’t want to struggle to her feet. When our hands touch, I feel the same damn thing I felt in Vegas and I nearly want to let go.

But I have her. So I don’t. Vickie nearly falls over a couple times getting to her feet, but once she gets there, she has this strange elegance about her. Something you only see in black women. A way that they carry themselves that I’ve always been attracted to. I have always been smarter than my brothers — dealing with the women I deal with far away from the club.

But black women love bikers and Vickie, despite her protests, is no damn different. She came to bed with me willingly that night and I don’t know why the fuck she drugged me and ran away but… that doesn’t matter. She’s mine. My prisoner. My woman.

She says nothing once she’s on her feet, but she looks over my shoulder at the door to the cabin.

“Come on,” I tell her. “Let’s get us both a nice hot shower…”

I gesture for her to walk ahead of me not just so I can get a good view of her ass, but because I need a real solution for controlling this woman.

She won’t listen to my words but… what about a collar?

The dark thought enters my head and as I turn my old key into the cabin lock, it’s like it pushes the thought deeper into my head, making it stronger. What if I put her in a collar. Immediately marked her as mine. Made sure what happened in Vegas would never fucking happen again.

As long as we both shall live.