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  I reached up to grab his throat; I wanted to strangle him.

  His fist hit the side of my jaw and sent blackness spreading over my senses.

  ~ ~ ~

  I showered. I considered the soap and shampoo as weapons. Neither played out in my mind as feasible. I had brief thoughts of pumping the shampoo bottle into the eyes of all who opposed me, but somehow, even my fantasy couldn't conjure the image of me succeeding.

  As my mind cleared more, I guessed I had only been captive for three days.

  My first meal was brought to me – a bowl of soup. The woman, name-tagged "Grannie," told me I better eat it. That Dealer would be expecting answers.

  I said, "I don't know anything."

  Something in her eyes told me she might believe me, but she turned away and left the room.

  I sipped the soup and wondered if it was my last meal.

  Dealer came in, followed by a squinting bearded man whose name patch said "Sonar."

  I looked over their other patches while the two simply stared at me sitting on the table. Dealer had a patch that said "President" and "1%" among others. Sonar had patches that said "VP" and "1%" with others. I said, "So you're the leaders."

  Dealer's face didn't change. "You knew that."

  "Well, I mean, I see from your vests; I've watched Sons of Anarchy."

  Dealer and Sonar met eyes at the same time and then looked back to me. The president said, "You don't know shit if that's where you get your briefing material. What outfit are you with?"

  "I'm not with any outfit. I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know why I'm here." My voice had risen, trying to impress them.

  They shared a look again. Then Dealer turned to Sonar. "Find anything in their vehicle?"

  Sonar's headshake was minute. He said nothing.

  I saw the president take a deep breath and let it out slowly. I knew it was now or never. "We don't have anything to do with drugs or anything. Let us go and we won't tell anyone."

  Dealer's head turned slowly with a look of distaste. "We'll see if your story matches your partner's."

  I launched at him, moving before I could rationalize away my only chance. I latched onto his vest and yanked. "Leave her the fuck alone you piece of worthless shit! I'll fucking kill you!"

  I might have caught him with a punch once when he had been pulling me out of my Suburban, but he was fast now, that's for sure. His fist caught me in the gut and doubled me over. He said, "Twenty, get in here and tie him down."

  I was yanked around by the chain and tied down by Twenty and Gripper.

  Twenty leaned over me and said, "You ever lay a hand on Dealer like that again and you'll lose that hand. Understand?" His eyes told me he meant it.

  Sounds at the door had me lifting my head.

  Dealer was hauling Kristy in. She was naked, but clean and unbruised.

  She saw me and her eyes went panicked. "Jim!"

  I panted with panic. "Kristy, are you okay?"

  She nodded, tears in her eyes.

  "Did they...?"

  By the look in her eyes, I could tell they had. My wife had been raped.

  Dealer growled, "Stuff his underwear in his mouth."

  Gripper and Twenty did exactly that. I was gagged, mouth open and full of cotton.

  Dealer was looking at Kristy and pointed to the wall. She backed up slowly and stood there, shivering.

  I struggled against the bonds.

  The president stripped off his clothes. He had a crow tattoo on his left arm and something small at the top of his back – a fleur-de-lis with wings. He wore a small cross around his neck. His cock – though I tried not to look at it, hung long and full. I groaned angrily.

  Dealer picked up my small wife and pinned her against the wall. She held onto him, legs around his waist and hands clamped around his shoulders. She looked at me with wide eyes, watching me and staring.

  I stared back, tense and quivering. I was hoping this was a show – some tease or threat that wasn't really going to be carried out.

  Kristy drew in a sharp intake of breath, her eyes still on mine. Dealer's butt clenched and rose. My wife's mouth dropped open, then closed. I watched his butt move, clenching. Slowly, Kristy's eyes glazed over and her lids sank shut. She began letting out little pants of air.

  I felt myself stir. I can't get excited over this. It's all fake. Or maybe that's why I'm getting hard. Maybe it's the fake that's a tease.

  Kristy moaned, her fingers digging into Dealer's shoulders.

  My dick filled and lifted. Fuck, that sounds real.

  The man gave four good upward pushes then cupped her butt and turned her away from the wall. My bride's head lay on his shoulder, eyes closed. He turned to face me, his eyes filled with anger. Through gritted teeth he said, "Worthless? Your wife likes this. A lot."

  I saw in horror the base of his thick shaft. I saw my wife's pussy open and stretched around it. I saw the shaft rising and falling as he slid it in and out of her. I heard her moans. My cock bulged insanely and I groaned.

  Dealer was speaking to her. "Do you like this, girl?"

  Kristy panted.

  "Do you?" He pulled out, his cock slick with her juices. "Answer me."

  My wife's voice was a whisper. "Yes."

  "Louder."

  She glanced furtively at me, with guilt in her eyes. "Yes."

  "Beg me."

  "What?"

  Dealer was looking at me. "Beg me to put it back in."

  "I..."

  "Do it. Do it right in front of your husband."

  "I... Please. Please put it back in..."

  "You want me to fuck you?"

  "Yes, please..."

  Dealer's eyes glinted dangerously at me. He stuffed his cock back up into my wife's pussy. He called out, "Tequila!"

  What the fuck does he need a drink for? I wanted to tear him limb from limb. But my cock told me something else.

  A woman popped her head in, taking in the scene without so much as a blink.

  Dealer motioned with his head. "Give fat-boy a hand."

  She was chunky, with black-dyed hair and heavy mascara. She immediately obeyed, coming over to me and gripping my dick. She began pumping my shaft as if it was an ordinary thing – like wiping a glass.

  I groaned, lifting my hips.

  Dealer whispered to Kristy. "You like riding on my cock, little girl?"

  I watched my wife's hips begin to hump back at him. She said, "Yes, yes." She groaned after saying it and began trembling, her breathing coming faster. I realized my Kristy was beginning to orgasm.

  Dealer was smiling at me. He moved his hips faster, his dick driving up into her.

  Tequila looked back and forth between him and my dick, keeping pace with his movements.

  Kristy came, her body shaking so hard it was unmistakable.

  I wanted to rage, but my cock wanted more. The woman's hand on me was just right. My hips began moving and I huffed through the underwear in my mouth. I hated myself for being turned on, but loved every stroke on my cock.

  Dealer pinned her back against the wall and drove harder and faster. Kristy's face rested against his skin, her mouth opening and closing. She didn't look at me anymore. He grunted, breath whistling through his teeth. His butt clenched up and his body began jerking. He was cumming in my bride.

  I groaned louder, wanting to kill, but wanting to see.

  He pulled out of my wife and blew out a long breath. He slowly lowered her. As he was, a stream of cum dripped out of her open pussy.

  I lost it. I bit on the underwear hard, wanting to tear it all like a savage dog, but my cock had other ideas. Under the ministrations of a grinning woman named Tequila, my cock erupted. Long streams of cum shot up.

  Dealer grinned and motioned to my wife to look. Kristy's eyes went big as she watched my humiliation: I had cum watching another man's cum drip out of her pussy. The president grabbed up his jeans. "I think your so-called husband likes it."

  She looked ba
ck and forth between me and him. She whispered, "I've been telling the truth."

  Tequila milked my cock a few more times, then wiped what had oozed onto her fingers on my chest. She left the room as if knowing she had been dismissed.

  Sonar gave her a nod. Then he said to Gripper and Twenty, "Leave us."

  The two men went out. I focused on the patches on the back of their vests. This was the Iron Crows motorcycle gang. I had never heard of them.

  The vice-president watched Dealer get dressed.

  Kristy took a faltering step and then another. Then she ran to me. She yanked the underwear out of my mouth and said, "I'm sorry."

  I panted, not knowing what to say. I had been angry, but also very turned on watching her get fucked. "It's all right."

  Dealer and Sonar were sharing looks and frowns. Finally the president said, "Shit."

  Sonar nodded.

  "What the fuck are we going to do with them?"

  Kristy jerked and turned, "Please don't kill us."

  Dealer sighed heavily and covered his face.

  I said, "We don't want to get mixed up with a motorcycle gang. Just let us—"

  Sonar actually said something. "We're a club, not a gang." He sounded angry.

  I snapped my mouth shut.

  CHAPTER 4

  I stayed silent.

  Dealer nodded. "That's the first smart thing you've done since you got into this. Maybe there's a spark of brains in there somewhere."

  He shared a look with Sonar.

  The VP turned and called, "Twenty."

  "Yeah." He had been waiting outside the door.

  I wasn't sure what was going on and my heart began to race in anticipation. Is this the last day of my life?

  Dealer said, "Untie him. Chain, too."

  Twenty, a smart looking man with his crazed eyes, immediately obeyed. One of his patches read "Sergeant at Arms."

  The president approached close.

  For the first time since I had been captive, I felt real fear. This man held my life in his hands.

  Something in his eyes, though, told another story. He said, "Why were you at that chapel?"

  I looked at him like it was a trick question. "Getting married."

  "Why that one?"

  "It was the first one we saw..."

  He lowered his face into his hands and scrubbed. "Fuck..."

  Sonar remained quiet.

  Dealer straightened, placing hands on hips. "You picked the wrong chapel, the wrong wedding suit, with the wrong vehicle."

  "What does my—"

  "A black Suburban? It's got government written all over it."

  "So you are criminals." I had an ounce of courage, knowing I was going to die anyway.

  Sonar snorted.

  Dealer, however, looked serious. "You don't know shit."

  "You're mixed up in drugs, aren't you? This is a drug operation—"

  "What the fuck gave you that idea? Sons of Anarchy?"

  "Well, that too, but your nametag—"

  Dealer laughed. It was an honest laugh from the belly and he leaned back, growling out a guffaw that almost made me want to laugh with him. He shook his head and pointed to his patch. "Dealer because I'm a good card dealer. Learned in Vegas some years ago—"

  "Oh, I see—"

  Sonar scowled. "Don't interrupt the president. Ever."

  I said quickly, "Sorry."

  Dealer scrutinized me with piercing and knowing eyes that looked like they had seen a lot. "That's the second smart move on your part."

  Kristy was hugging my arm. Her grip tightened.

  I decided to remain quiet until I was addressed.

  The president watched me, waiting, then appeared to nod slightly. "I suppose you're angry."

  I bit my tongue.

  "We fucked your wife. Three of us. Aren't you angry? I would be."

  I gave a quick nod.

  He cracked a smile. "At least you're honest." He looked down at my dick. "That's not the whole truth, though. And I'd hate to see little Kristy go."

  I tensed, my hands forming into fists.

  He noticed. "You want revenge? Want to teach us not to fuck your wife? Want to fight one of us?"

  I growled but kept quiet.

  "I should probably pay you that courtesy. She's a very sweet thing. Sweet, indeed. What say we clear a spot and I'll have one of the patches fight you. Just a clean fight. Let you hurt us back, huh?" There was a jovial twinkle in his eye.

  I didn't know how to read that. But I could tell I was being offered a challenge. I felt I didn't have to take it, but to not accept would be to admit I was nothing. Always, I had been nothing. I had fallen between the cracks in school, having few friends. Always the loner. Always the last picked for a team. Always looked at as too tall, too slow, too not with anyone else. I didn't fit in with the druggies, the smokers, the jocks, the nerds... And neither had Kristy. Too small, too skinny, too smart, too quiet, too aloof.

  No, neither of us had ever fit into anything. Dealer's words sparked a rage at myself within me. I was never good enough. I could never stand and say that I mattered. As tall as I was, I had lived with the stigma for years. My chest heaved, ashamed – ashamed of getting aroused seeing my wife taken in front of me. Ashamed of not having a job. Ashamed that even having the bad luck to be taken captive by this club had revealed my faults. I rose to my full height, determined to say I mattered. "I'll fight anyone here."

  There was a reassuring squeeze from my wife that instinctively caused me to wrap my arm around her.

  Dealer appeared pleased. "Stiff guy wants a fight."

  Twenty chuckled.

  "Get dressed and come out. Tell Twenty when you're ready."

  "Will we be free to go after that?"

  His eyes locked to mine, sparkling with something unsaid. "Ask me after."

  ~ ~ ~

  I hugged Kristy fiercely. "Are you sure you're okay?"

  "Yes. They pulled my hair that first day, but after that they treated me gently."

  "Even when..."

  She nodded against me. "I'm sorry."

  "You really wanted it, or did they make you say those things?"

  She looked up into my eyes, searching.

  "Tell me."

  Her eyes shifted left and right, looking everywhere at nothing. Looking for escape. She trembled and said, "I don't know... At first I was scared. Dealer raped me. Then Viking. And Big Pizza. But Dealer came back and he was...so gentle." She trembled harder in my arms. "I felt as if he were protecting me, like I was something of his he could never mistreat." Her tears flowed down her cheeks. "I'm sorry."

  "So you liked it," I choked out.

  She nodded. "Not for the sex, I think. But because I felt included. I felt special. I felt wanted. Safe. Does that make any sense?"

  More than you know. "I think it does."

  "Can you forgive me?"

  I stroked her hair. "You were raped—"

  "Not after that first day, I wasn't."

  I sighed. "They used you."

  "At first, yes. But then it wasn't like that. Dealer only allowed Viking to be with me one more time. Then it was all Dealer."

  I felt angry, hurt that my wife had liked him and he had tried to take her from me. But at the same time, my dick began hardening and she felt it.

  She grabbed my cock gently, looking up at me hopefully. "I'm glad you liked it, too."

  I didn't like it. Not one damned bit. But then, that wasn't true, was it? I panted, feeling my dick becoming erect again.

  She whispered, "It was hot watching you cum as you watched me. It felt like freedom – like I didn't have a care in the world. I felt special, just like when that pastor married us a few days ago."

  I felt her sincerity. "When we leave, will you miss him?"

  "Dealer?" She looked hurt. "I felt so wanted..." Things went unsaid.

  I finished dressing, wondering if I had already lost my wife. I felt ridiculous in my black suit pants and white shirt. It w
as the only thing wearable for my wedding. I couldn't afford a tux. I looked at my jacket as I left the room; it was over the back of a chair outside the door. No wonder they thought I was government. Black suit, black sunglasses, black Suburban. Fuck, what a mess. And I thought I was just looking cool.

  There was a grizzled old biker standing next to Twenty. His tag said "Gunner." A long, thin cigar hung unlit out of his mouth, though it had been lit at some time before. His eyes were glassy and squinted. Another patch said, "Chaplain."

  Twenty grunted. "You ready?"

  Gunner said, "Give the boy a minute with me, will you?"

  Twenty said nothing, just gave the old man a look and then walked off. We were in some kind of a large building, old, with two corridors that went off left and right. But we were centered in a large room with couches and chairs. A pool table near the left wall had two biker women leaning against it.

  I figured this must have been a hotel of some sort at one point. The hallways contained doors set close together.

  Gunner said, "Heard there was a big mistake milkshake. Quite a mess."

  I grunted sourly.

  He said, " 'Blessed men pass through valleys of weeping.' You know that verse?"

  I said, "Huh?"

  "It's in Psalms. I take it you're not a Bible-reader?"

  "No, I have one, but—"

  "All of life's Wisdom is found there, son. You might try getting use out of it some time."

  "Oh..." I felt uncomfortable at admitting I hadn't read it.

  "Men who believe enter places of weeping. Happens to everyone. But blessed men pass through – to the other side. Remember that." He pulled the cigar from his mouth and squinted at me. He also had a patch that said "1%."

  I pointed. "What is that? 1%?"

  He smiled. "An award that's pretty fucking rare. It's earned by those who show extreme commitment to biking and the brotherhood."

  I was confused. "Brotherhood? Like in Sons of Anarchy?"

  The cigar went back in the mouth and a gnarled finger stabbed at me gently. "Best advice you can get about that is to forget everything about what you see on TV. A motorcycle club is nothing like that shitty show. For the most part. But yes, everyone wearing the patch is a brother or a sister—"

  "You have a woman wearing a patch? I thought—"

  "Don't interrupt your elders, boy. Especially those among the brothers. Yes, we have a lady patched; she earned it. Any of us in here would drop anything to come to the aid of one of ours in need. We're that tight. Tighter than you can know."