Miscreants next generati.., p.10
Miscreants: Next Generation, page 10
“They gotta have access to some nice resources if they can afford the fuel in something like that…”
“The Nailers?” Brody asked.
“No. They’re on good terms with us.”
“And Kovu doesn’t have age or gender pity. He makes sure they kill everyone,” Aurora added.
“What about the Roboys, then?” Brody suggested.
I knew that name. I looked at Amo for confirmation and could almost see the lightbulb click on above his head. “That’s a good guess. More than good…oh, never mind. That’s bad.”
“No shit.” Of all the fucking people, out of all the limitless factions Lilith could get her ass snatched by, it had to be those inbred dumbasses.
“Isn’t the guy who runs around in those cosplay glasses with them?” Dawn asked. “Don’t you know him, Rory?”
The look that came over Aurora’s face made it clear this wasn’t something she wanted to talk about.
“They’re goggles,” Brody corrected, sliding into the conversation with his cape on.
“I don’t give a fuck what they are. We need to move.” I held the jerky out to the lag, allowing him to finally have it. “Take this and go.”
He accepted the meat and took off at a lopsided run, already tearing into the beef like a rabid dog.
“That’s one shitty last meal.”
“Huh?” Dawn questioned.
“Leo, give it five minutes then go deal with him. String him up across the entry way of the town and make a bigger tag.”
That out of the way, I turned to address Rory. “Can you take her back and let the others know we’ll be home soon?”
It took her less than a second to know who I was referring to.
“Of course. Are you sure?”
“Positive.”
I got into the Brabus, beginning to count every minute that it took us to get to Lilith. I thanked Satanas I hadn’t shown her off yet. It worked in her favor that no one knew what she looked like. As soon as they found out her identity, they’d know how invaluable she was. I had to get to her before she became a victim or a pawn.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
This had to be the universe’s way of confirming I’d made a colossal mistake.
I wasn’t sure how long we’d been in the bed of the truck. My hearing hadn’t gone back to normal yet, and there was a pounding in my head from where someone had knocked me out.
“Kara?” I tried to call, my voice getting lost on the wind.
“Dammit.” I wriggled in an attempt to bring my bound hands up and remove the sack that was over my head.
I could feel a warm body pressing against my back. There was another in front of me. Both were too small to be Poet.
Abruptly, the truck turned, causing us to roll like logs. I gritted my teeth as our bodies slammed together. There wasn’t any time to recover before the terrain went from smooth to bumpy. We started bouncing right along with the back end of the vehicle. This seemed to go on forever until the brakes made a squealing noise, and we came to a jerky stop.
My head bounced again, colliding with grooved metal. Doors opened, closed, and then calloused hands were lifting me out. I stumbled, being held upright by an iron grip on my upper forearm.
“Easy with the stock,” a man’s muffled voice came from my left.
“I know, I know. I always forget how unsteady the females get.”
From the sounds of it, this was a reoccurring thing these men did. I guess that made sense, though. They were too organized and prepared for it to be some random happening.
Unable to see anything, I had no choice but to rely on whomever was leading me to be my eyes. At least I could still feel and smell. I knew the ground was muddied because my boots kept sinking down. The air was thick with malodor and traces of sawdust.
I counted down from sixty, so I knew how long it would take to get back to the vehicle from where I was being led. After three minutes, we stopped. A chain rattled, a low groaning noise followed, and then we were moving again.
“Watch your step,” the man warned, tugging on my arm.
I used the toe of my boot as a feeler, discovering a low, solid ledge of some sort.
I lifted my leg and stepped up onto it, slightly faltering. The air had gone stale and stuffy. There was an underlying stench of urine and…old blood? Whatever the odor was, it was foul. Somewhere high above me a fan was blowing lukewarm air, which wasn’t helping the smell situation.
“Going right.” My guide steered me around something. Then, after a few more steps, he said, “Stand here.”
His hands landed on my shoulders and angled me horizontally. Another warm body, an arm, brushed against mine as they were instructed to do the same. I rubbed my wrists together as best I could to get blood circulating beneath the zip ties.
Once the sack on my head was removed, I blinked a few times, allowing my eyes to compensate for the dim pallor of light. My vision cleared, revealing dusty old pillars and a curvature of wooden stalls built in the shape of a U.
Behind me was the man who’d been my guide. He was average height, sporting two dark braids beneath a Stetson. I figured he was trying to be in character, seeing as we were in a draughty barn that had seen much better days.
The wooden planks that made up the walls had begun to rot. The roof was so old that small shafts of light streamed through where missing shingles no longer existed. A large arena was the main attraction of the space. It took up the entire midsection, reminding me of a bowl full of gravy.
A small sense of relief flowed through my chest when I saw Takara right beside me and in once piece, albeit looking pissed and confused. To her immediate left was a redhead. On the other side of me was a blonde. All of us seemed to be fine—physically, at least.
Blondie’s eyes were overflowing with tears and so puffy it was amazing they were still able to open.
I would bet my left lung that she was the one who’d been hysterical back in Phobos.
Goggles clapped his hands loudly to summon our attention. “Welcome to the Roboys’ Roadhouse, ladies. Where joy and pain are all part of the gain.”
Roboys’ Roadhouse.
I think the sign hanging on the arena gate had said that once upon a time, but it was too faded and worn to make out much of it now.
“You be good and continue to not cause me any problems, and I promise your stay here will be enjoyable for both of us,” Goggles continued.
As he spoke, he made wild motions with his arms. It would’ve been hard to take him seriously if I weren’t bound as a hostage.
Bound, but not helpless.
There were always options. I just had to consider which ones would get Takara and I out of here the safest. There was Poet to think about, too. They’d taken him in a separate vehicle. Since Goggles was in front of us and not currently driving it, Poet could be anywhere. I didn’t know if he were okay or not.
“Ma said dinner will be ready in twenty,” another guy announced as he walked into the barn. The dirty gun Goggles had been wielding back in Phobos was grasped in his hands.
“Good, let me search them and then we can go help her.”
“Search us?” the redhead questioned, her voice low and somewhat slurred. They must have given her something.
“We can’t have any of you trying to hurt one of us or using anything to escape.” Goggles removed a swiss knife and forced the redhead to take a step forward.
“But you already took—”
“Still gotta check you.” He sliced through the maroon fabric of her shirt, straight down the middle. Beneath it was a bra a size too small.
With a perverted inhalation of air, he placed his knife between his teeth and grabbed each of her breasts. She shut her eyes and turned her head as his fingers kneaded them through the fabric of her bra.
What the hell kind of weapon did he expect to find there? But then, it became apparent this wasn’t about us having weapons at all when he dropped his hands to the waistband of her shorts and dragged them down.
It was plain to see she wasn’t packing anything beneath them. They didn’t even have pockets. This shrimp dick fucker still ran his hands over her ass, down her thighs and back up. Her jaw clenched, but she didn’t beg or plea for him to stop.
“No faction markings,” he noted after lifting her hair and checking her back. “I think it’s lucky we were the ones who found you then.” He took both of her hands and extended them so that she was making the shape of a T.
“Jacob, Tyson, what do you two think a this one?”
“She’s too old to be a filly,” the man with the Stetson replied.
“She’s no heifer either, look at that ass,” the other man answered.
Heifer? Filly? Were they seriously comparing us to farm animals?
“Mare then,” Goggles confirmed, pushing her arms down. He had the decency to lift her pants back up before pulling her forward again and all but shoving her into one of the empty stalls. He locked her in with the heavy padlock hanging on the exterior.
Once she was secure, he turned back to us.
Skipping right over me and Takara, he went to the blonde, giving her almost the same treatment.
The man who’d joined us and announced their supper would be ready soon stepped up on the blonde’s other side and ran a hand through her hair. It was nearly the same color as his but a shade lighter. She flinched, causing him to grin wickedly.
“Can I keep this one, Knox?”
Goggles turned his head. “Why in the hell would you want it?”
“Doesn’t she look like Danielle?”
“Ty, our sister would be mad as hell if she showed up and saw her.”
“She won’t get a chance to. I only need a day.”
The certainty with which he said that was disturbing.
“Come on, Knox. She’s clearly a heifer, not as valuable as the others.” He poked her right breast as if to prove his point.
“Plus, you’ve got these two still, the redhead, and that big guy. That’s four extras ahead of delivery day.”
“There’s that skinny gelding as well,” Jacob, who I’d determined was the guy in the Stetson, said.
“Fine, fine. But she better be gone before Dani gets here.”
Ty nodded like a child that had just gotten his way. When he went to reach for her, Knox knocked his hand away and dragged her forward, shoving her into the stall beside the redhead’s. “After Ma goes to bed, you can play. Not a minute sooner.”
He locked her up like he had the redhead and then moved to Takara. I sent her some strength, steeling my spine as she straightened and readied herself for him to touch her.
“You’ve got some beautiful silky-smooth skin,” he murmured, ripping her tank top in half. “Chest is on the smaller end though.”
“Pig.”
He glared and grabbed her jaw hard enough to make her lips pucker. “Watch your mouth.” His head dipped and he smiled, placing a kiss on the center of her chest. “It wasn’t an insult.”
I bit my tongue and looked at the ceiling. Tackling this asshole and kicking the shit out of him probably wouldn’t get me all that far, though it would surely make me feel better. I waited for him to find her insignia, but he completely missed it amongst all her other tattoos. Idiot.
Knox placed Kara in another of the stalls and locked her up. She was immediately at the rusted window grill, peering out to watch.
“You get to be last,” he said, stepping in front of me with a smile.
“Does that make me lucky?”
He smiled bigger, slicing down the front of my tank like he had the others. I remained stoic, not letting on how much this bothered me. Thank Satanas I wore a sports bra.
“You know,” he began, “I think I like you…?”
Did he think I’d volunteer my name? That was one of the most tried and tired tricks in the book. I knew my mouth had to remain shut. Keeping my face neutral, however, was easier said than done. The moment his grubby hands touched my skin, I wanted to headbutt him.
“Got anything on you I should know about?”
“Nope.”
He’d taken my holster and my bag already. The most lethal weapons I had could never be stolen from me, anyway. I got common sense from my mother and the reckless ability to raise hell from my father.
As his fingers trailed down both of my arms, I swear my skin shriveled beneath his touch. Why were his nails so jagged?
He flipped my left wrist, then the right. The moment he spotted the insignia on the underside, he froze. His head moved up and down as he looked from me back to the mark.
“Well, I’ll be damned.” His grip tightened and he lifted his goggles, revealing a dark shade of amber eyes and surprisingly well kempt eyebrows.
“What is it, Knox?” his friend with the dirty blonde hair, Tyson, asked.
“She’s one of them Stag fuckers.”
“Creed’s then? Or is that Lazarus?”
“It’s the same dang thing, Jacob. A conspiracy for the ages.”
It took me a second to remember that Creed was Amo.
I don’t know why he’d needed an alias, but what was more concerning was Knox knowing he and Samael played for the same team.
“She looks young,” Jacob said. “So does the Chinese one.”
Takara scoffed. What a piece of ignorant swine.
“Yeah, she does…” He leaned in, nearly pressing his nose to mine. “I’m old enough to be your daddy. Ain’t I, girl? I’ve always liked that.”
Ew. How dare he?
“Fortunately, my daddy has a lot more polish than you, and he isn’t into little girls.”
I expected pain in retaliation for that, but he simply shrugged it off. “That’s common in our family. The closer the kin the better.”
That wasn’t something I cared to know.
“I take it your friends came from the same place you did?”
I wasn’t confirming or denying anything when his motives were unknown. I had barely escaped him finding my other insignia tattoo—the one that marked me as a Savage.
“I’ll find out for myself.” He patted my cheek and stepped back, pulling me along to another stall. Once I was inside, he turned to his companions. “Call the boys, Jacob. We’ve got some stakes to raise.”
“What are you going to do with us?” the blonde whimpered from a few stalls down.
“I can’t tell you yet. It’d spoil all the fun.” He turned to Jacob. “Help me get the big fella situated, would ya?”
They took their leave, Knox calling over his shoulder before he slammed the barn door shut. “See you soon.”
I removed my torn tank and turned to Takara as soon as they were gone.
I couldn’t touch her due to the window bars being so close together, but I could see her.
“You okay?”
“No. This is humiliating! We didn’t make it anywhere.”
“I was asking if you’re hurt.”
She grabbed at the stall door’s handle and tugged. It didn’t budge but for a small squeak. “I’ll be fine once we get out of here and find Poet,” she replied with a growl of frustration.
I peered around her and tried my best to make out the other two.
“What’s your guys’ names?”
“Cassandra, but everyone calls me Cherry. Cliché, right?” The redhead replied first. You could hear how anxious she was despite the upbeat tone.
“No…” I trailed off, thinking of my mom.
I couldn’t divulge who I was to her.
We may have been kidnapped and locked up in a barn together, but she was still a stranger, and this was the Badlands. I wasn’t at the lodge anymore. These folks had no loyalty to me or Samael.
“I knew someone who was called Blue.”
“Blue hair?” she guessed.
“Her name actually means blue, but she does—did—have blue hair too.”
“That’s—”
I cut her off with a swift subject change. “I’m Layla, by the way. That’s Tiny.”
“Tiny?” the blonde sniffled.
“I’m a skinny bitch.” Takara went right along with my lie, getting the girl to release a shaky laugh.
“I’m Hannah.”
“Okay, Hannah. Cherry. You two want to help us get the hell out of here?”
“Tell me what you need,” Cherry answered eagerly.
“Just listen for anyone coming.”
I turned in my stall and went to the rotted piece of plywood covering a window.
I’d spotted it the second I was shoved in here thanks to the small streams of light coming through the bottom portion.
Cognizant that my chest was exposed thanks to Knox’s perverted need to rediscover what actual boobs felt like, I wanted to avoid pressing them against it. Against anything around me, really.
Granted, I was a hot mess. All I had for a top was my sports-bra; the flannel was inside my bag somewhere. My hair was frizzed and mostly undone from the braid it had been in. Because I was sweaty, dirt mixed with flakes of grass were clinging to me from where I had hit the tarmac, and Travis’ blood was dried onto my skin.
Even with all that going on, the stall was filthier than I was. The floor was covered in a thin layer of discolored straw and sawdust.
In the back left corner was a pathetic excuse for a makeshift bed, nothing more than a questionable pile of linen with a suspicious brown stain in the center.
I walked over to the rotting piece of plywood and ran my fingers around the edges, feeling for any kind of give.
I tried to lift the corner that had some of the wood already chipped away, but it held tight. I traced along the outer rim, feeling the heads of rusted nails.
“So much for that idea. This thing isn’t going anywhere.”
“We’re stuck in here then?” Takara asked.
“For now.” I ran my hands over my messy hair and sighed.
I really shouldn’t have left the lodge.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Mistakes aren’t meant to define us, but it’s hard to think otherwise when they continue to repeat inside your head, reminding you of how badly you’ve screwed up.
I wasn’t trying to throw a pity party. I didn’t like being pitied. But I had to face the facts. We wouldn’t be locked in a barn that smelled worse by the hour if it weren’t for such a half-assed escape plan that I hadn’t put my heart into.
