Page 5

5

B efore I can second guess my reaction, I run.

“I’ll claim her as mine.”

His words echo through my head as I force my legs to move as fast as I can, bolting into the darkness towards the trees surrounding the rest stop. Shouts come from behind me, but the rushing torrent of my blood whooshing past my ears is almost deafening, making it impossible for me to know who’s yelling.

Thanks to Jols’ packing skills, I now have on clean clothes, which includes my old runners, making it easier for me to hurry over the twigs and scrub as the bushland engulfs me.

I have to get free.

I can’t keep letting people do this to me.

The snap of twigs behind me sends a fearful whimper past my lips. Someone is chasing me. Someone is closing in.

My foot catches on a fallen branch, and I squeal as I start hurtling forward, the bed of the bush floor coming at me fast.

“Stop!” The growl is loud, a strong arm hooking around my chest just in time to save me from face planting, my trembling body crushed back against a broad chest.

“What the fuck did I say earlier?” Ringo sneers into my ear, his breath so close, so warm that I’m sure his lips must be a mere fraction away from my lobe. “I thought you understood my fucking meaning when I said you don’t want to know what will happen if you try to run.”

“P-Please. L-Let me g-go. Y-you don’t w-want m-me. I’m not w-worth it,” I beg, stuttering my way through the words as I sob.

“Someone thinks you’re worth it. Someone thinks you are worth kidnapping in order to get you away from your family.” Lowering my feet to the ground, Ringo releases me, only to spin me to face him.

It’s dark out here, the only light is from the half moon above, and the lights from the toilet block at the rest stop filtering through the trees. His silhouette is huge. A looming presence in itself, but I can just make out one side of his face in this light, his stare hard and annoyed as he glares at me.

“Believe it or not, I am trying to protect you,” he snarls, sounding pretty unhappy about being put out.

“I don’t believe you.” I force the words, determined to not let my fear continue to allow other people to control me. “You said you are going to claim me.”

My words cause his lips to kick up in a smirk.

I think.

I can’ t be sure in this dim light.

“That’s right, Charity. I did.”

“How is that any different from what my parents were forcing on me?” I take a step back, shaking my head. “I refuse to marry you or anyone else.”

“Who the fuck said I wanted to marry you?” he asks, his tone now sounding amused.

Great. Now he thinks this situation is funny.

“You said you were going to claim me as yours.” I rebut, my tears no longer falling but my cheeks flaming in anger. Why is this guy such a… a… dick?

“I did. Yes. That’s not a fucking marriage proposal. In my world, we don’t need shit like that to own something.”

“W-what? Own something?”

Did he really compare marriage to ownership?

I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s the way Daniel saw it, too.

“You find her, man?!” a male voice yells through the trees.

“Yeah. I fucking found her!” Ringo calls back, not taking his sight off me for a second.

“I’m not going to have sex with you,” I blurt out, and this time, his smirk grows as he chuckles.

“I wasn’t planning on fucking you, Charity.” He takes a step closer, and when I go to step back, my calf hits the trunk of a tree behind me, showing me I have nowhere to go.

Shifting closer, he does that thing he keeps doing, pressing his finger under my chin and forcing my head back to stare up at him. “Unless, of course, you want me to fuck you?” He leans down closer, hovering his lips right before mine, and I hold my breath, my heart tripling its speed. “But if you want that, Angel, you’d better ask really fucking nice. ”

I swear I stop breathing. Is he going to kiss me? Why would he want to do that? Is he going to rape me?

Bile rises up, burning the back of my throat, and my heart starts pounding again before Ringo takes a step back, releasing my chin.

“I really am trying to protect you, Charity. How about you fucking let me?”

Let him? This is all so messed up. I can’t make any sense of why I’m here with him.

“Who wanted you to kidnap me?” I ask, trying to force a level of confidence in my voice that will make me sound strong.

I fail.

“That is for me to know, and you to find out when I get the green light to tell you. Now, are you going to walk back to the van willingly, or do I have to carry you?”

“I’ll walk,” I snap quickly, shoving past him and hi-fiving myself, in my head of course, for being so ballsy.

His deep chuckle rumbles behind me as I head back towards the light of the rest stop, Ringo’s heavy feet snapping twigs as we go.

When we emerge from the thick of trees, the four men and the one woman, Jols, turn to watch us return, and given the way they nod as we approach, I guess Ringo gave them a gesture or silent order from behind me, kicking them into action, all of them climbing into the vehicle.

When Ringo gestures for me to get in through the open door, I reluctantly step up into the van, only to find one seat left.

“You can come snuggle between us.” One of the guys snickers from the very back seat which Ringo and I were on next to one of them earlier.

I stare back at him and the other big guy, their legs manspread so far apart there’s no way I can fit between the two of them. Not that I want to, and I’m pretty sure the blond guy that just spoke knows that.

“Shut the fuck up, Murf. She’s not sitting with anyone but me.”

Ringo’s words are part welcoming and part terrifying.

I don’t want to sit between those men who resemble the big tatted up biker dudes I’ve only ever seen in movies. But I also don’t want to sit with Ringo, because that would mean I have to sit on his lap again.

The sliding sound of the door closing draws my attention, right before Ringo folds himself into the last seat and reaches out to snatch my wrist, dragging me to him.

I try to snatch it back, but I’m weak against his strong hold, and before I can figure out a way to get myself out of this situation, he has me sideways on his lap, stretching the seatbelt around both of us before clicking it in.

“Relax, Charity. I won’t bite,” he mutters quietly so only I can hear, while Jols starts up the van, and music I don’t know begins playing through the speakers before she drives us back onto the highway.

I’m so rigid on this rough man’s lap, my spine stiff, and my hands tremble.

It could be worse, Abbey. You could be with Daniel.

The thought sends a shiver up my spine, and oddly, Ringo’s arm supporting my back squeezes me a little tighter. He probably thinks my reaction is because of him. I want to tell him it’s not, but why should I? This man kidnapped me. Yeah, he said he’s trying to protect me, but what sort of saviour saves the damsel the way he did ?

Oh, my goodness. I really am a damsel.

I hate the thought of that. It makes me feel weak, but as I cast my eyes over the huge men and kick-ass woman, all squeezed into this car, there’s no use lying to myself.

I am weak.

Weak and pathetic, just like Daniel reminds me every time before he…

No. I can’t bear to think about that. The things he’s done to me over the last eighteen months are things I want to forget.

My lower lip wobbles as I fight off the memories. And then it wobbles some more when I think about what my parents had planned for the morning. How everything I’ve been working towards has been ripped away before I had the chance to escape.

But I have escaped.

The thought is jarring. Yes, I have escaped. Not the way I had planned. Being kidnapped by a gang of thugs isn’t anywhere remotely what I had planned, but… I have escaped that fate my mother had planned for me, at least.

There will be no wedding tomorrow between me and Daniel. I bet he’ll be relieved. He never actually wanted me, also forced into this situation by our parents. But he sure liked owning me. Forcing me to behave a certain way. Do what he wanted. He used the wedding as a threat to make me comply, knowing our parents were determined for us to marry, but were happy for us to wait until we finished University, unless Daniel or I misbehaved. Unless one of us went against their wishes or did anything else to shame them.

That was their condition. Comply, or be forced to marry sooner.

I’d nearly gotten away. I was so close, but then my parents found out my secret, and within minutes, the wedding was being brought forward to tomorrow.

“Charity?” Ringo’s gruff whisper snaps my eyes to his. “Are you prone to seizures?”

His face is so close that I nearly bump my nose into his, so I shrink back to try and focus my eyes on his shadowed expression.

“What? No,” I whisper back, and this time his large hand reaches up to my face.

Naturally, I flinch, which causes him to growl, and I want to ask him if he’s part bear with the way he does that, but when he reaches forward again, he swipes his thumb across my cheek, and I remain stock still.

“You’re trembling so much I wasn’t sure if you were seizing. And you’re crying again. Have I not made it clear that I’m not going to hurt you?”

I scoff loudly, but then slap my hand over my mouth, my eyes wide as the light filtering from the front dash illuminates how he lifts a single brow at me. And then he slowly smiles.

“See, I’m not so scary.”

I scoff again, this time dropping my hand away, and he does that growly thing.

“Now that your seizing is slowing, do you want to tell me why you’re crying again?”

“I’m not crying,” I mutter, swiping at my wet cheeks.

“You were crying,” he counters. “Do you want me to take you back home?”

His question stiffens my spine again, and I try to stare into his eyes to gauge his seriousness, but in this light, it’s hard to tell.

“If I said yes, would you?”

He doesn’t answer me.

“That’s what I thought,” I mutter.

“Wanna tell me about your parents? Why were you locked in your room?”

His question feels too personal, and I cross my arms over my chest and try to turn away from him, but I literally can’t move any further with us both squeezed under the seatbelt.

“Come on, Charity. Help me understand what’s going on.”

“Call me Ell,” I interrupt, relaxing back into his arm a little more. I may as well, since I have no idea how long we’ll be driving for.

“Ell?” he asks, sounding confused.

“Yes. Short for Eloise. It’s my middle name.”

He chuckles. “Your name from now on is Charity.”

“But I don’t like Charity. It makes me sound like a charity case,” I whine.

“Exactly.” He nods, and I have the urge to punch him.

Do it, Abbey. What’s he going to do? Hit you back?

Well, duh. Isn’t that what men do?

“You think I’m a charity case?” I snap, trying to sit taller and not lean against his arm this time.

“Yes. Because you are a charity case,” he says so matter-of-factly that the urge to punch him turns into wanting to bite his nose off.

And I would, but then there’d be blood and I’m not really good around other people’s blood.

“I’m not a charity case,” I hiss.

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not,” I snap, louder than I should, and the man sitting next to us peers over, but I pretend to ignore him, as does Ringo.

“The definition of a charity case is someone that needs help,” Ringo explains, sounding annoyed. “And you needed help. Still do. I’m here to help the person that needs help. The charity case. Therefore, your name is fitting, and this fucking weird conversation is over.”

Something in me snaps. His words. His honesty. Everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours comes to the forefront of my mind, and I see red.

“I hate you!” I scream, my fists flying out to swing punches at him, but his hands shield his face before they grip my wrists, and the van swerves on the road as the others around us mutter curses.

“You got the fucking wheel, Jols?” Ringo snaps as I try to pry my wrists free of his vice-like grip, releasing another scream as I start kicking my legs.

“STOP!”

His boom is loud in the confined space, and I instantly still, my head dropping as I cast my eyes to my lap.

“Fucking hell, woman. Was that really called for?”

“She clock you or what?” JD asks from the front seat while the others snicker.

Ringo doesn’t answer them, instead leaning in close. “If you hit me again, Charity, I’ll consider it foreplay.”

I don’t say anything to that. I can’t. I just nod, my heart racing as I keep my eyes cast down, not interested in seeing his face or the smug look I bet he’s wearing.

I want to go home.

The thought is weird, because I don’t want to go home. Not to my parents. My little sister, yes, but everything else in that house can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned.

So really, I think I just want to be somewhere safe. Somewhere I don’t have to look over my shoulder. Somewhere I can trust people.

Does such a place even exist?

I remain quiet for the next forty or so minutes, hating how as each minute passes, I start to relax a little more on Ringo’s lap.

He seems unbothered by my presence on him as well, his head tipped back, his eyes closed, and even though I’m so exhausted, I stay awake, glancing around the van at each person, even though I can hardly see them.

When the car starts to slow, and Jols turns it off the highway onto a side road, I stiffen again, anxious for where we are going.

Is he taking me to someone that wants to hurt me the way Daniel did?

I don’t really know many people, especially outside of Fox Pines, so I’m absolutely baffled as to who on earth wanted Ringo to steal me away.

We drive for a while more before turning onto a dirt road, and my heart starts to race again, fear chasing away any semblance of calm I had as a parked truck comes into view.

Sitting taller under me, Ringo peers through the front windscreen, and I notice the others shift in their seats, too, as if preparing to get out.

Are we here? Here being the destination.

When the car stops and Jols shuts off the engine, the others climb out while Ringo unclips our seatbelt, but doesn’t move.

“Are you gonna try to run again, Charity? ”

“If you keep calling me that, I will,” I snide and he chuckles.

“Foreplay. I knew you had the hots for me.”

Gasping at his audacity, I rear back, but this time, I don’t fall off the seat. No, this time, hands grip me from behind and lift me out of the van with ease as Ringo follows.

“Get her bag and put her in the truck,” Ringo orders JD, who just manhandled me out of the van.

“She riding with me and Stocky?” JD asks as he rounds the back of the van and takes my bag out.

“Nah, man. I’ll ride with her and Stocky. You take my hog back to the Western. Stay with Jols.”

Hog? Western?

I have no idea what Ringo is talking about, but JD beams as he moves back to us with my bag.

“You really gonna leave me in control of your ride?”

“Yes,” Ringo hisses, stepping forward and pointing a stern finger in JD’s face. “Don’t put a fucking scratch on it or I’ll feed your balls to Molly.”

JD rears back. “Bit fucking harsh.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? That’s going easy on you. Fucking look after it,” Ringo barks before gripping my upper arm and passing me to JD.

“You’re such a fucking Grinch,” JD whines, leading me away from the van, towards the truck.

“Who’s Molly?” I ask JD, as we move away from Ringo’s earshot.

“Molly’s the fucking queen. You’ll meet her soon enough.”

I’m so confused. Hog. Queen. Molly. Western. Are they all people or…?

I consider asking JD, but then we are at the small truck and he’s unlocking it, helping me up into the cabin and directing me to sit in the middle and as I do what he asked, clipping my seatbelt in place, JD’s attention remains on whatever is going on behind the truck.

From up here in the cab, I see four motorcycles parked in front of the truck, just under some bushes partially hidden away.

Damn. Was my assumption correct? Are these guys bikers? Do we even have them here in Australia?

A bright light snags my attention to the driver’s side mirror to see a ball of flames behind us, a gasp flying from my lips as I stiffen in panic. My gaze darts to JD, half expecting him to be readying himself to go and save someone, but when I realise he’s too calm, leaning against the open door watching the fire engulf the van, I start to relax.

They are burning the van.

Shit. How many times have they done this? Everything they’ve done tonight seems to come so naturally to them that I have to assume they do this a lot.

After a minute, the others move to the motorcycles, and JD talks quietly with Ringo outside the truck before he, too, moves to the last motorcycle.

I jump in my seat when the driver’s side door swings open abruptly, and one of the bearded men climb in, shooting me a wink.

“I’m Stocky.”

His voice is deep, just like Ringo’s, and they look a similar age. I have no idea what age that is, though. Old. Not my parents old, but still old all the same .

I don’t say anything to him, wrapping my arms around my waist as the night air finally cools, sending prickles of goosebumps to scatter across my skin.

“Put this on.”

Ringo’s demand draws my attention to where he’s climbing up into the truck on my other side. He’s holding out a black hoodie, and when I just stare at it, he gives it a shake.

“Put it on, Charity.”

I roll my eyes, but snatch it off him, unclipping my seatbelt to slip the hoodie on, before clipping myself back in.

Suddenly, I’m engulfed in Ringo’s scent. I’ve smelt it numerous times since he entered my bedroom earlier tonight, but this time, it’s wrapped around me, and I’m honestly disturbed by how relaxed it makes me.

A yawn escapes my lips as the truck starts up, and Ringo’s eyes meet mine as he fastens his own seatbelt.

“We still have a bit of a drive. You should try to get some sleep.”

Sleep. Hell, it sounds good in theory, but how will I ever sleep while these thugs are around? I can’t take my eyes off them for a second. What if they try something? What if they…

Nope. Not going there.

As we drive off, following behind two of the motorcycles, while the other two follow behind us, I get a better view of the fire burning in the reflection in the side mirror, the van fully alight as it burns wildly.

I’ve heard about this on the news. The police said burning the cars used in crimes is common practise for organised crime in Australia.

Which begs the question .

“Am I the crime you committed? Is that why you’re burning that van?”

My question doesn’t even surprise Ringo, and he shoots me a sinister smirk, leaning in to bring us close again.

“What do you think?”

Shrugging, I lick my dry lips, suddenly feeling parched. “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking.”

Even in the dull light, I don’t miss the way Ringo’s eyes dart down to my lips, watching as I lick them again, and when he answers, his eyes linger there briefly before he locks his gaze with mine again.

“Kidnapping is a crime, Charity. How does it feel to know all of this effort has gone into stealing you away?”

My cheeks feel hotter than they should. I’m not entirely sure what’s happening. Maybe I’m falling ill. I mean, it would be my luck.

I take a moment to try to compose myself and consider his words, and my brows hitch when I realise I’m kinda happy that there’s been so much fuss. Something I’m not used to.

Ringo takes that moment to lean closer, his lips hovering just by my ear before he speaks.

“That’s what I thought, Charity case.”