Mason_ Inked Reapers MC(1)(85)

The only reason I didn’t jump off his bike was because he had my wrists tied around his waist. My face pressed right up against his dirty leather jacket the whole time. I twisted this way and that, but I couldn’t get the right leverage. It occurred to me to try to tip the bike, take us both down, but then I remembered Sting. I didn’t need two murders on my hands.



“You awake?” Jayson kicked open the door of the tiny room he’d shoved me in. I leaned against the headboard of the twin bed, my wrists were sore from the rope he kept them tied with. Trying to wiggle free of them had only resulted in rope burns around my wrists.



“I haven’t slept.” I turned my head away from him. My lips burned when I moved them, the bottom lip had split open when he backhanded me the night before. I wouldn’t open my mouth for his cock so he spent his energy smacking me around, and then he tore off my panties and did what he wanted anyway. And that’s how he left me, laying on the bed, ass naked, and a swollen face.



He walked over to me with a tray, putting it on the TV stand near the bed. I didn’t look over at it, but it smelled like shit. “Let me see your face.” He sat on the bed, pulling my chin toward him. I wanted to spit in his face, but I was too tired to gather up enough saliva. “Fuck, you swell up good. Next time I tell you open your mouth, you open up. Got it?”



I turned my eyes to see what the foul smell on the plate was, completely ignoring him. Never again would I willingly open my mouth or my legs for anyone I didn’t want to. “I think those eggs are rotten.” I winced at the pain in my jaw.



He picked up the plate and sniffed them, making a face. “You might be right. But that’s all you have, so eat if you’re hungry, or don’t. I don’t much care.” He got up from the bed, shifted his dick in his pants and looked me over. “Starting to get a little worn out. Rest up, I’ll be back in an hour. Need to try Sting again.” He took his phone out and started dialing.



I groaned and slid down on the bed until my head hit the flat pillow. Sting. He didn’t know about Sting yet. Maybe he just didn’t want to admit what he already knew. The asshole was dead. And I killed him. If he knew that part of the story, I wouldn’t have been suffering from just a split lip and sore jaw. I’d be dead.



The time slipped past me. I had no idea what day it was or what time of day it was; Jayson had tacked up a blanket over the window after the tied a leash to my wrists. Getting off the bed to stretch was about as far as I could go, not an inch further.



Mason crept into my mind. How would he know to look for me? Would he even bother after I walked away from him like that? As far as he knew I took a bus north, never to see him again. Over and over again, I replayed that afternoon in the back of the diner. Thinking over what he said.



He was right. When shit got hard, I ran. Taking care of mom, that had been easy. Clean up the puke, wash her hair, drive her to the doctor, pay the bills. It was all methodical and I could put myself on autopilot. When she died though. All of that went out the window. I had no idea what to do with myself. Reinvent myself? Live for me and not her? How did I do that? So I ran.



Every excuse I came up with why I couldn’t get away from Jayson had to do with protecting Mason. I couldn’t let him hurt because of me, or anyone else. The truth was, though, that hiding in my little room at Jayson’s club had become my new shelter. I knew what I was, who I was. Then Mason walked into my world and changed all that.



With him I could be something else. I wouldn’t day dream about going to nursing school, I’d actually get to go. Was I just too scared to give him a chance? I’d run away once from him, wasn’t I doing it again? Only this time, he let me. He didn’t run after me.



I told him I didn’t want him to give up his life for me, but the truth was I was too scared to change my life for him. A coward.



I heard Jayson start yelling through the door. I couldn’t understand him though. He’d been rambling on and off since he dumped me in that room. His eyes looked crazed when they didn’t look angry.



“Where is she?” I heard a familiar voice bellow. The walls practically shook with the sound. I didn’t move, or make a sound, convinced my mind was starting to crack. “Where the fuck is she?”



Mason?



I turned over just as the door the room splintered into a little pieces. Mason with his gun dawn, eyes wild, and lips tight jumped into my room. Our eyes met, and for a moment I let myself believe I wasn’t dreaming. That he stood only a few feet from me. I reached my hands out, thinking to touch him before he dashed back into my mind.