Free Lilith: Lucifer's Legion Motorcycle Club by Kelli Maine Page B

and tap his fist back. “Get the fuck out of here,
Prospect, you fuckin ’ goofy-ass bastard.”
    I
take the stairs down to the basement while Meat jogs across the lot to the
van.
The door’s shut. I grab the knob and turn it, closing my eyes, not at all fuckin ’ sure if I want to see her inside. When I step
in,
she’s perched on the edge of the bed starin ’ up at
me.
    “Why
the fuck are you sittin ’ there?” I slam the door
and
stalk over to her, making her wince and shy away from me. “Are you a fuckin ’ idiot or something? Don’t you check to see if
the fuckin ’ door’s open at night
when
I leave you untied?”
    She
bobs her head up and down real fast and whispers somethin ’
I don’t hear.
    “What
the fuck did you say?”
    “I
was scared to leave,” she says.
    “Scared
to leave? Fuck,
bitch, you should be more scared to stay. What the fuck do you think’s going to happen to you if you run that’s worse
than
being sold as some fuckin ’ Mexican cartel boss’s
sex
slave?”
    “I—I
didn’t know what to do.” Her voice is all fuckin ’
shaky, and she’s cryin ’. I want to smack her fuckin ’ face for being so fuckin ’
stupid. “You get the fuck out when you have the chance. Jesus Christ. How
could
you be so fuckin ’ dumb?”
    “I’m
sorry,” she says, whimpering. She falls face-first into the mattress,
bawling
her fuckin ’ eyes out. “I didn’t know. I thought it
might be a test, and someone would kill me if I ran. I didn’t know why you
left
the door unlocked. Why would you--” Her sobs take over, and she’s shakin ’ and can’t speak no more.
    Why
would I? That’s a fuckin ’ great question. “Quit cryin ’ and get up,” I say, grabbin ’
her by the arm and pulling her off the bed. “Take your clothes off.” I turn
around, like some fuckin ’ homo afraid to see tits
and
pussy. I swear to fuck I don’t know what I’m doin ’
with this bitch—or what she’s fuckin ’ doin ’ to me. Why isn’t she fuckin ’ screamin ’ at me? Tellin ’
me
she hates me, that I’ll burn in fuckin ’ hell? Even
my
most compliant bitches have gotten angry at some point. This bitch is a fuckin ’ mystery. If I’m gonna get her out of this fuckin ’ mess, I gotta make her hate me. She can’t be
afraid
to run. I can’t be the best fuckin ’ option she’s
got.
    I
turn back around and want to fuckin ’ crumble onto
the
floor lookin ’ at this sweet fuckin ’
angel standing there with her long, dark hair over her shoulders, the ends
skimming those succulent nipples, her hands folded in front of her, like she
’s hidin ’ her pussy from me. I swear to fuck my chest is cavin ’ in. I can’t be around this bitch
anymore.
    I
reach a hand out to take hers, my fingertips running along her arm, when an
explosion outside sends us both crashing into the bed. The ceiling’s rainin ’ dirt and dust and my ears are ringing. I can’t
hear
a fuckin ’ thing. I see the bitch screaming beside
me,
her mouth open and eyes wide, like some fuckin ’
star
in a horror movie, but I don’t hear a sound. “Stay here,” I yell, jabbing my
finger on the bed as I stand to show her what I mean. “Don’t fuckin ’ move!”
    I
dart out the basement door and half way up the stairs to the driveway, I see
flames and black smoke shootin ’ up into the air.
The
brothers are in the lot, freakin ’ the fuck out.
“The
van fuckin ’ blew up!” Pinch says.
    My
head is fuckin ’ reeling, but I can hear again. The
van—what’s left of it—is on its side about twenty-yards from where it’d been
parked. “What about fuckin ’ Meat?”
    Pinch
shakes his head, lookin ’ down at his boots, scuffin ’ his toe in the gravel. “Blew when he turned the
key. I was standing in the doorway. Saw it happen.”
    “How
the fuck—who the fuck did this?” I
can’t fuckin ’ stand still and pace in a circle pullin ’ at my hair.
    “The
gate’s been open since Alice left this morning,”