Her Possessive Bikers

34. Indy

34

INDY

T he door crashes open, and two burly men stomp in. The chains around my ankles rattle as I try to back away, but there's nowhere to go. They grab my arms, their fingers digging into my skin as they drag me across the room to a metal chair.

"Get your fucking hands off me," I spit, but they just laugh and shove me down.

Cold metal bites into my wrists as they secure them behind my back. The zip ties are too tight, cutting off circulation. One of them yanks my hair, forcing my head back.

The taller one circles behind me, his boots scuffing against the concrete floor. "Ready to talk, princess?"

"Sure." I roll my neck, working out the stiffness. "But I doubt I have the answers you're looking for. I spend more time patching up gunshot wounds than causing them."

The shorter one's boot connects with my kneecap. Pain explodes across my leg. "Smart mouth little bitch, just like your old man."

"Thanks for the compliment." I spit onto his boots. "Dad always said I got his best qualities."

"Your knights in shining armor haven't shown up yet." The one behind me yanks my hair, forcing my head back. "Maybe they finally realized you're too much of a liability."

"Or maybe they're just waiting for the right moment to put you down like the rabid dogs you are." My scalp burns where he's gripping my hair, but I manage a smile. "Tres isn't known for his mercy when people touch what's his."

"Tres?" The shorter one barks out a laugh. "That's what this is about? You spreading your legs for the new president?"

"Actually, I've been spreading them for quite a few of the brothers." I wink at him. "What's wrong? Jealous you weren't invited?"

Another punch, this time to my ribs. The chair rocks but doesn't tip. I wheeze through the pain, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry out.

"Keep running that mouth." The tall one releases my hair and moves back into view. "We'll see how lippy you are when we start removing pieces."

"Where's the ledger?" A new gravelly voice asks from the doorway.

"What ledger?" The words barely leave my mouth before a fist connects with my jaw. Pain explodes across my face.

"Don't play dumb bitch. We know Brick kept records of all the club's business dealings. Where is it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Blood trickles from my split lip. "I didn't live with him, remember? But if I had to guess, they probably were in the garage that you dumbasses burned down."

Another hit, this time to my ribs. The air rushes from my lungs.

"Your old man must have told you something. No way he kept his precious daughter completely in the dark."

"He didn't tell me shit." I wheeze through the pain.

"Bullshit!" One of the goons grabs my throat, squeezing. "The ledger disappeared right after he died. You were the only one with access to his house."

Black spots dance in my vision as I struggle to breathe. When he finally releases me, I gasp for air.

"I don't... know... about any... ledger." Each word burns my raw throat. "I was just there to pack up his things."

"Wrong answer." A boot slams into my stomach, toppling the chair. My head cracks against the concrete floor.

Through the ringing in my ears, I hear: "Leave her to think about it. Maybe some time alone will jog her memory."

The door slams shut, leaving me bound and bleeding on the cold floor. Dad, what the hell did you get me into?

My body aches as I lie on the cold concrete, but my mind drifts to warmer thoughts. The clubhouse. Home. Three very different men who've managed to work their way under my skin.

Tres, with his commanding presence and silver-streaked hair. The way he takes control, yet shows such tenderness when we're alone. His protective nature reminds me so much of Dad.

Sweet Kyler, quiet and thoughtful. Those deep conversations we have late at night, the way his eyes light up when he actually smiles. That scar that makes him look dangerous, but he's got the gentlest soul.

Then there's Jacoby, all fire and passion. His playful flirting, the way he makes me laugh even when everything's falling apart. How he risked his life to save Dad's Chevelle without hesitation.

"They're probably at each other's throats right now," I whisper into the darkness, managing a small smile despite my split lip. The zip ties bite into my wrists as I shift positions. "Three alpha males who don't like to share."

But I've seen the way they look at me. Felt it in their touches, heard it in their voices. This isn't just physical for any of them. And I know they won't stop until they find me.

"Daddy," my voice cracks as tears start falling. "I know you're watching over me. Please help them find me. Guide them here somehow." The concrete is cold against my cheek. "And keep them safe. Don't let these bastards hurt them. I couldn't bear it if something happened to any of them because of me."

A sob escapes my throat. "I miss you so much, Dad. I wish you were here. You'd know exactly what to do."