Rock's Redemption(Insurgents MC Romance Book 8)(46)

"Women love doing that," Chas said. "My wife's the queen of the cold  shoulder, and it's fuckin' effective ‘cause it drives me crazy and I  always fuckin' give in. Am I right, Axe?"

Axe chuckled. "Yep. Baylee must've taken lessons from Addie ‘cause she  can go hours acting like I'm not in the same fuckin' room. Damn. How the  hell do women do that?"

All the other brothers but Rock sniggered. "I don't think that's what's  going on here. If she were doing that shit, she wouldn't have texted me  that she was at her mother's and ask me to confirm the text. Fuck! I  didn't really want her to go alone to visit her mom. I don't trust the  fuckin' bitch."

"What's going on here?" Hawk asked as he walked up to the group.

"Rock thinks his woman's in trouble," Chas replied.

"Do you know what kind of trouble?" Hawk leaned against the table.

Rock nodded. "If something's wrong-and my gut's telling me it is-I know  it involves that rich fuck we did the stint for in Aspen."

"Frederick Blair?" Hawk scrubbed his face. "He's the one you think  killed your mother, and he's the one who wanted to sell the weapons to  the Demon Riders. Why's his goddamned name all over the fuckin' place?"

"He wants Clotille back. I know he's been supporting her mother and  she's a greedy bitch, so I wouldn't put anything past her. I'm going to  go over there and see if my woman's still there. It's been a few hours  since she texted me."

"You want me to go with you?" Bones said.

Rock shook his head. "No, I gotta do this on my own." He scanned his  brothers' faces, a warm feeling spreading through him. They were ready  to charge with him to the mean bitch's house and help him find his  woman. He could always count on their loyalty and support no matter  what. He pounded his fist against his chest a couple times, then headed  out the door.

As he was about to switch on his Harley, Hawk came over to him. "You let  us know what you find out about your woman. If this fucker is in town, I  wanna know."

"Sure thing." They locked gazes for a few seconds and an understanding  passed between them that the brothers were behind him and waiting to  help in any way they could, even if it wasn't club business. Rock broke  eye contact, switched on the ignition, and rode away.

After the second ring, he tried several bump keys that made getting into  places a lot easier. The third one he used unlocked the door and he  entered the house. Everything was quiet and he silently padded his way  through the whole house looking for Clotille. No one was there. He went  into one of the rooms that looked like an office and started rifling  through the papers on top of the desk. Thumbing through a desk calendar,  he noticed several notations that Mrs. Boucher had spoken to  Frederick-one as recent as a couple of days before.                       
       
           



       

I fuckin' knew it! I wonder if he's taken Clotille back to Aspen. Fuck!

As he rummaged through the desk trying to find more information, he  heard a door close. He froze as heels clacked on the floor. He hid  behind the door and waited until the footsteps grew fainter, then  quietly followed them to the other end of the house. He saw the woman  he'd hated all through his growing years, the one who beat Clotille,  underpaid his mother, and treated him like white trash.

Mrs. Boucher bent over and took off her high heels before massaging her  foot. He waited until she straightened up and then came up behind her,  grabbing her with one hand and covering her mouth with the other. She  kicked and twisted, but he held her like a ragdoll. He let her carry on  for a few minutes, and then he yanked her head back hard and snarled,  "You're going to get one chance to tell me the truth. If you don't, I'll  fuckin' peel your skin off before I rip out your intestines. Where the  fuck is Clotille?" He put his hand over her throat and squeezed it hard  before releasing.

"She's with Frederick," she said against his hand.

"Where the fuck is the sonofabitch?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just know she went with him."

He kneed her in the kidneys and Mrs. Boucher cried out as her legs  buckled. He forced her to stand straight. "Wrong fuckin' answer, bitch.  One last chance. Where the fuck is the asshole?"

Black streaks from her mascara ran down her tear-stained cheeks. "I have  to look it up. Please. I don't remember. It's in my computer." She  nodded toward the desk.

With an ironclad grip on her arms, he walked over with her to the desk and shoved her against the chair. "Please don't hurt me."

"Shut the fuck up and gimme the damn address." He watched her every move  as she scrolled through her e-mails. She grabbed a pen and piece of  paper, wrote down an address, and handed it to Rock. It was a local one  in another parish about thirty minutes away. His heart leapt. I gotta  get to her before the motherfucker takes her away. I'm sure he's hurt  her. I'm going to kill the bastard. With Clotille's safety paramount, he  was thinking with his heart when he ran out of the house, leaving a  traumatized Mrs. Boucher collapsed in her chair. He jumped on his Harley  and sped to rescue his woman.

* * *

Frederick hung up the phone and smiled cruelly at Clotille. "That was  your mother. We're going to have a visitor soon." He turned from her and  dialed. "I need some reinforcements at the house. I'm expecting a  jilted lover." He licked his lips as he stared at her. "You can't spare  more than four? Well that'll have to work. I need them ASAP. Send over  whoever is in the area."

Clotille's heart was in her throat. Rock's going to step into an ambush  and I can't do a goddamned thing about this. She pulled at the cuffs  around her wrists and ankles. He'd restrained her spread eagle on his  favorite equipment-the St. Andrew's Cross. At first he'd attached her  facing the cross when he exacted her punishment for being so  disobedient. He'd started with his hands and then progressed to the  flogger, the cat o' nine tails, and the cane. When he'd brought out the  dreaded cane, she pleaded with him to stop, but he kept hitting her  buttocks and thighs. She used her safe word, but he'd told her she had  broken their contract by leaving him and they didn't have a new one in  place yet, so there were no limits. The only thing that got her through  the beating was thinking of Rock and their time together. Even though  Frederick had made her count each blow aloud, her mind was on Rock.

"Getting tired, my pet? See what happens to naughty sluts who disobey?"  He sat in a straight-backed chair, his leg folded over his pressed  pants, and watched her. After he finished caning her, he turned her  around so her back was against the cross and she faced him. Humiliation  burned through her, and his eyes sparkled as he watched her shame.

"Please don't hurt Rock. I'll never leave you again. I'll do whatever you ask, but please don't hurt him."

"You've forgotten how to speak to me, pet. I'll have to retrain you when  we get back to Aspen. But now, I must get you ready for your visitor."  He laughed and unlatched the restraints. She fell onto the mat in front  of the cross. Her arms ached from being held up so long, and her body  hurt all over. After several minutes, he had her drink from a bowl of  water, chuckling as she dipped her face in the bowl and lapped up the  liquid.

"Ready?" He fastened her collar around her neck and attached her leash.  As he walked up the stairs, she struggled to follow him on her hands and  knees. When she slowed down, he'd jerk her hard, dragging her behind  him.                       
       
           



       

Clotille assumed her slave position: naked on her knees, sitting upright  on her heels, hands clasped behind her back, knees spread wide apart.

Frederick patted her head. "Good, pet."

Each minute that went by, each sound she heard, drove her further into a  fit of frenzy. Frederick went to the door after reading a text,  returning with four mean-looking bearded men. Their arms and necks were  covered in tattoos, and one had skulls and demons tattooed on his shaved  head. They were dressed in leather and denim and their black vests  sported patches of numbers, guns, and wings. She trembled. They must be  the reinforcements. Rock, mon cher, stay away. Forget about me. I can't  see you die. I love you so much.

Frederick spoke in a low voice to the four men and they grunted and  growled their replies. He looked at his watch again, then dropped to his  knees next to her. "Soon it'll be show time," he cooed in her ear, "and  I'm going to show you what happens to men who try and steal my pet." He  pulled her head back and kissed her hard, then stood up and smoothed  down his pants.