Soul Of A Woman (The Dark Souls), Page 2

  Sudden, harsh laughter had Rhys looking for the source. From behind the door Rhys had flung open on his entrance, Thomas Shelton stepped forward. In his hand, he held the weapon that had destroyed Rhys’s family.

  “You crazy bastard!” Rhys couldn’t understand how he had missed all the warning signs. Shelton had sat too quiet and played too accepting of his own family’s accident.

  “You saw to it that murderer who killed my family was released.” Anguish Rhys could now unfortunately understand stared back at him from insane eyes.

  “The jury found him innocent.” Pain had turned his voice guttural. ”If you wanted revenge, you could have killed me, not innocent babies.”

  “You had the evidence thrown out. Not only that, but you paid off two jurors,” Shelton spat out in fury.

  “I didn’t,” Rhys cried. He had used case law and every tactic available, but he had never crossed the line.

  “I have the proof. Your money even paid for the deputy to lose evidence forms so that the chain of evidence could be broken. How proud were you when that evidence was thrown out? Did you even care when you decided to accept Dawson’s case that he’d killed my pregnant wife? It was a little girl.” A sob shook the small man’s frame before he regained some semblance of composure. Shelton continued on with a choked voice, “He was drunk two times over the legal limit. You didn’t give a fuck that my life was destroyed when they were killed.”

  “You killed innocent children!” Rhys yelled at the man driven for revenge.

  “My little girl was just as innocent. Do you think my family didn’t mean as much to me just because we’re poor? That we didn’t attend the same fancy parties? Have the big house in an exclusive neighborhood? I bet if I’d had Dawson’s connections, my family’s murderer wouldn’t have walked away free.” Raising the gun, he pointed the barrel at Rhys.

  Placing Michael gently on the floor, he moved to Deena’s side where he reached down, clasping her cold hand in his. Her wedding band glinted, making a mockery of the fact he had failed to protect her when she had needed him most.

  “Go ahead and kill me.”

  Shelton grinned at him. “I have no intention of killing you. I wouldn’t make it that easy, you dumb bastard. I want you to feel what I’ve felt this last year. What it’s like to have to bury a child that you loved, how painful it is to bury a wife that you adored, who carried a child that never saw the light of day. What it’s like to go home to an empty home. I hope you feel my pain for the rest of your long fucking life and know that you could have prevented it all.”

  Rhys heard sirens coming closer to his house. “Kill me!”

  Shelton smiled as he raised the gun to his temple, pulling the trigger without hesitation.

  Tears fell down Rhys’s cheeks as he let Deena’s hand go before crawling across the bloody floor. He reached for the gun lying in Shelton’s limp hand. Putting the gun to his own temple, Rhys looked up to see a beautiful woman standing over him. She watched him casually, as if he wasn’t holding a gun against his forehead. She was so beautiful Rhys thought she might be an angel until he noticed her gown. No angel would dare to wear the filmy gauze that barely covered her curves.

  Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He opened his eyes and pulled the trigger several times, yet each time she waved her hand, and the gun refused to work.

  “Stop!” he screamed at her, somehow certain she had kept the gun from firing.

  The woman looked surprised, as though she hadn’t expected him to talk to her at the same time he again pulled the trigger of the useless weapon. Angrily, he threw it at the woman, staring as it sailed through her. Rhys’s grief-stricken mind began to wonder if he had snapped like Shelton.

  “This is your fault,” he accused the woman.

  The sound of police voices calling out made him realize it was too late to achieve his attempt at ending his own life. Rhys screamed at her, losing what little sanity he had left when he heard her soft reply, “No, Rhys, this was all you.”

  Chapter 1

  “I found her out back watching the building. Do ya think she’s a cop?” Skid asked.

  Rhys’s eyes went to the young biker with long, greasy hair hanging down to his shoulders.

  “I’ve never seen a cop with her tits,” Tank said, moving through the crowded bar to stand in front of the woman. When his meaty hand reached out to grab and squeeze one of her breasts, Rhys watched as she reached out a hand to knock his away. In response, Tank’s hand flew out, smacking the woman in the face. She fell back a step and Skid caught her from behind, holding her still as Tank’s hand went back to the woman’s breast again.

  “Baby, if you wanted to play with us, all you had to do was come in.” Tank moved closer, his hand sliding down her stomach, unbuttoning her jeans.

  Rhys’s attention was diverted when Layla sat down at the table next to him. Her black tank showed a generous amount of flesh as she leaned forward, reaching for his glass before taking a drink.

  “Come on, Rhys, let’s dance. Why do you have to be so gloomy all the time? Have some fun. I could help you with that.” Layla reached forward, running her hand up his leg, then licked her red lips, making it obvious what she was offering.

  His hand snapped out, grabbing her by the back of her neck. “You know what I want?”

  Layla nodded her head.

  Rhys leaned back in his chair, tugging her closer, pushing her down with a hand on her shoulder until she was kneeling between his denim-clad thighs. Rhys looked down as Layla unbuttoned his jeans and then pulled his cock out. She slid closer to him, rubbing her breasts on his thigh as her mouth went down on him eagerly.

  No one paid any attention to what was going on at his table. They were used to much worse going on in the dangerous clubhouse.

  The large room had outdated wooden paneling, tables that wobbled when you set your drink down, a bar that served one brand of beer and hard liquor, and whores to serve them both. Drugs were to be had in low quantities, which the brothers sold most of, using only what they needed for their own good time. They weren’t afraid of the law; several of the members of law enforcement were on their payroll or regular customers. Adam always took a few photos for safe keeping as insurance for their continued silence as well.

  Rhys took another swallow of his drink as Layla sucked his cock to the back of her throat. His hand in her hair pushed her down farther, not even bothering to thrust, making her do all the work.

  A loud scream from across the room drew Rhys’s eyes as the woman still struggled against Skid’s hold while Tank shoved his hand in her unbuttoned pants. The biker was laughing while the woman screamed and fought, her legs kicking out only enabling him to rip off her jeans, leaving her in her white panties.

  There was nothing decent left in him that shouted at his conscience to stop the foolhardy woman from getting raped. He had not crossed that line, but there were several illegal aspects of the club that he had participated in; raping women just hadn’t been one of them.

  Since the moment his wife and children had been killed, the Rhys born and bred in the upper echelon of society had died. After he had buried his wife and sons, he had sold all his possessions and donated the proceeds to several children’s charities. He had also sold the BMW he’d driven, buying a cheap motorcycle that had been redone after being involved in a crash. He had then driven around the country, stopping only when he became too tired to ride. At that point, Rhys would have to find a bar and drown his memories for the night, so when he laid down in his cheap motel room, he could close his eyes without seeing Deena’s and his sons’ blank stares.

  After one drinking session three years ago, he had left the bar and was stumbling to a nearby motel when three men had jumped him to rob him. He hadn’t even put up a fight, taking the beating while hoping this was the end he had been searching for, when one had pulled a knife and stabbed him in the side.

  In the next moment, the sound of roaring motors had filled the
lot. The men attacking him had stood still then tried to flee when the rough looking bikers had moved lethally towards them, leaving Rhys lying in the dirt.

  A cold voice broke the sudden silence of the frigid night, “Three against one… doesn’t seem fair to me, but twenty-two against three doesn’t seem fair to me, either. Mason, Jace, take care of these fuckers. Show them what a fair fight is, then get rid of them.” The finality intoned in his voice revealed he didn’t expect any of the attackers to still be alive at the end of the fight.

  Rhys looked up into a set of cold, green eyes as the large man squatted down next to him.

  “You okay, brother?”

  Rhys nodded his head, feeling his jacket opened and then his shirt raised to have the knife wound probed.

  “Yeah.” Rhys winced as his shirt was pulled back down.

  “Name’s Adam. Yours?”

  “Rhys.”

  “You got a room at the motel?” The gruff biker looked over his shoulder at the dingy motel.

  “Key’s in my pocket.”

  Adam searched in his pocket, pulling out the key then effortlessly lifting him into his arms and carrying him across the lot to his room. Inside, he had laid him down on the bed.

  “Bones, take a look at him.”

  Another biker stepped forward, taking off his jacket and shirt.

  “He’s going to need stitches.” Bones’s brief words weren’t a surprise.

  “Fix him up.”

  Rhys didn’t say anything while the biker named Bones stitched him up.

  When he was done, Adam introduced the members of his club, telling him they rode together as the Dark Highwaymen. They were coming from making a delivery of drugs. Adam had watched for his reaction, and when Rhys hadn’t had one, he’d sent one of his men for a bottle of whiskey. The Dark Highwaymen had drunk until late in the night before crashing on the floor in Rhys’s room.

  When they’d left town three days later, Rhys had gone with them, telling himself he would leave them at the next town. It was three years later, however, and he was still riding with them.

  Another loud scream drew his attention back from the past. Layla swallowed, increasing the pressure on his cock, and then Rhys came in her mouth, letting his orgasm ride out before using his hand in her hair to jerk her off his softening cock.

  Tank slammed the woman down on the table, slapping her on the ass as she continued to struggle. Rhys looked away as Layla ran her tongue across her bottom lip. He shoved his dick back into his jeans before zipping them then picked up his glass, finishing his drink in one swallow. Taking her arm, he shoved his chair back from the table, preparing to get to his feet.

  “What’s wrong?” Her heavily made up face stared up at him.

  “Nothing. Just decided to move this to one of the bedrooms.”

  Layla’s frown disappeared. From her smile of anticipation, Rhys could tell she was expecting some enjoyment of her own.

  The front door opened again, drawing his attention from the attractive club whore. Adam, Mason, and Jace came in, and Rhys watched uninterestedly as the club president took in at a glance what Tank and Skid were doing.

  “Let her go, Tank.” Adam’s cold voice brooked no argument.

  When the biker turned an angry red, Rhys thought for a moment Tank was about to ignore his leader’s order, but then he reluctantly backed away, letting the woman go.

  Adam moved to stand casually in front of her, as if he hadn’t just interrupted her being raped.

  “Who are you?”

  “My name is Broni.” The shaky voice had guilt stirring within Rhys. He released Layla, motioning for her to refill his glass. He then took another drink to restore the mind-numbing emotionlessness that enabled him to keep everyone at a distance.

  “Where did she come from?”

  “I found her behind the club.” Skid rushed to answer.

  “What were you doing behind the building?” Adam’s harsh expression showed he had no sympathy for the predicament he had found the woman in when he’d entered the club.

  “My car broke down. I was trying to find a phone to call a tow.”

  Rhys winced at her stupidity of letting the rough crowd know she didn’t have a phone to alert anyone of her whereabouts.

  “She’s mine and Skid’s. He found her. You don’t mind sharing do you, kid?” Tank interrupted Adam’s interrogation.

  Skid gave Tank a worried frown. Everyone in the club knew that by the time Tank finished with the girl, she wouldn’t be worth a dime to anyone else, but Skid was young, unable to stand up to the more overpowering biker.

  “My family will be looking for me,” the girl threatened Adam, which wasn’t a smart move.

  “Doesn’t matter if they do, no one will be searching for you here. Skid, get her car started then dump it somewhere on the other side of town. Tank, you know how we divvy club property up. She goes up with the rest of the spoils, and whoever wants her bad enough will have the chance to have her.”

  Rhys saw Tank’s hands clench by his side. He was jonesing to take Adam on and wrestle control of the club away from him. Adam maintained the club with iron control and a few rules to keep the hot-headed brothers from killing each other. While most of them were loyal to Adam, only the strongest and meanest could lead this crew consisting of mostly felons and ex-military who were unable to function normally, according to society’s rules. Tank was itching to take control from Adam, and the already lawless group would become uncontrollable if that happened.

  “Fuck.” Tank’s huge, booted feet carried the furious asshole to the bar.

  Rhys rose to leave the room since the inevitable confrontation was over. He put his hand on Layla’s ass to push her towards the bedroom, her vapid giggle nearly making him change his mind.

  “Rhys!”

  He stopped, turning back when Adam yelled his name, cussing at himself for not disappearing while he had been distracted with Tank. As he walked across the room, he saw Mason hand the woman her jeans back. Rhys eyed her long legs before going up her flat stomach and finally meeting her gaze. Curiously, Rhys noticed the fear had left her eyes.

  “Keep her with you until Saturday,” Adam said when Rhys came to a stop in front of him.

  “Why me?” Rhys was about to argue the order but didn’t get the chance.

  “Because you’re the only one who won’t touch the merchandise until then,” Adam answered, taking a seat at the table.

  “Why not Mason or Jace?”

  Adam’s mouth tightened at Rhys’s words. “Because I told you to. If I let them keep her, Tank will say I’m playing favorites.”

  “All right.” Rhys gave in reluctantly.

  Adam turned to the woman who had pulled on her jeans and was watching them uncertainly. “Stay close to Rhys’s side. Don’t try to run away, and whatever you do, stay far away from Tank.”

  She looked over Adam’s shoulder to Tank before briefly nodding her head with an abrupt movement and moving to Rhys’s side. Her willing cooperation was a relief; Rhys was in no mood to put up with a struggling female.

  “Let’s go. I was on my way to bed.” Rhys turned on his booted heel, leaving her to follow behind him obediently.

  Layla grabbed his arm as he passed. “What about us?”

  “There is no us. Maybe later, Layla.” Rhys jerked his arm away from her needy grasp.

  “You fucking bastard. You’ve left me hanging for the last time.” Her hand attempted to smack him.

  “Is that so?” Rhys grabbed her flailing hand, pushing her up against the paneled wall. He roughly gave her thin top a quick tug down until her tits popped out. He grabbed one of her brown nipples, twisting it until she gasped, biting her lip. Then, Rhys’s hand slid up her bare thigh, going to her pussy. His fingers rubbed on the outside of the cheap material of her shorts, causing Layla to moan, arching her hips forward.

  He stroked her harder when he heard her whimper of frustration, sliding his fingers in her shorts, plunging a finger int
o the wet pussy that was demanding more. Then he slid another finger inside, stroking her harder. He ignored Broni, who he had felt come to an abrupt stop when he had pushed Layla against the wall.

  “Rhys.” Her hands reached greedily for him.

  “Don’t touch me,” he snapped, releasing the tortured nipple, taking the other one in his hand before giving it a cruel twist.

  Layla started to slide down the wall.

  “Stand up.”

  She locked her legs in place while Rhys’s thumb circled her clit as he continued to finger fuck her. Layla gasped and barely held herself up against the wall when her pussy began rippling as she came. Rhys released her nipple and his hand from between her thighs.

  “You get off when I want you to, but there are other cunts in this club besides you. Do you understand me?”

  Layla weakly nodded her head.

  Rhys continued to his room. Opening the door to the dark interior, he flipped the light switch on. Broni stiffened when the door closed behind them, but she continued to walk further inside.

  Rhys went into the bathroom, shutting the door, not worried about her escaping. His room had no windows, and if she went back out his door, one of the other bikers would return her to him. She wouldn’t be allowed to escape. Her life as she knew it had ended when Skid had found her.

  Rhys didn’t feel sorry for her. She wasn’t the first woman who had been taken by the bikers. Most ended up enjoying the life; those that didn’t learned to keep their misery to themselves.

  He showered, cleaning off Layla’s scent from his body.

  It had taken him two years after Deena had been murdered to be with another woman. He had been drunk at the time, giving in to his body’s demands, fucking a woman he had picked up in a bar. After he had finished, he had vomited on the floor beside the bed. She had taken off and Rhys couldn’t blame her; he had been a fucked-up mess. Three years later, he still was.