Page 17 of Pearl (Royal Harlots MC, Phoenix, Az. #1)

Pearl

A serious pounding headache and throbbing pain in my leg and hip causes my eyes to flutter but even opening them hurts something fierce. White blinding light feels like a knife stabbing me over and over again as I clench my jaw through the pain and force them open.

The greaseball sitting on the van’s bench seat watching over me as we drive makes me wish I had kept them closed. I wait for him to say something, taunt me, but he doesn’t. The savage look is enough though, conveying his hatred without making a sound.

One of the evilest of the Desert Riders.

I recognize this fucker. Why the hell I ventured so far is beyond me, so caught up in my thoughts that I lost track of where I was, and that’s not fucking like me.

Carver—I blame that man for it all. Somehow, he’s gotten under my skin so bad that I’ve lost every bit of common sense.

The silence is deafening but gives me time to think.

The side of the van I’m leaning against is hard and unyielding and the zip ties around my wrists are tethered tightly to rings on the van floor just like my feet.

Unless I can get to my knife there’s no way I’m getting out of this situation, and there’s no way I’m doing that with my feet so far away from my hands.

My captor smiles, showing me crooked and stained teeth, as he fishes my knife from the pocket of his jeans. “Looking for this, sweetheart? Or maybe this?” he asks, pulling my Glock from the pocket of his leather cut.

My chest tightens at the look of pure gloating on his face. The ladies have no fucking clue where I am. Sure, they’ll be worried when I don’t show up for the meet but not one of them would think about looking between Tucson and Phoenix.

“Cat got your tongue?”

I keep my comment to myself, not wanting to antagonize the bastard any farther.

They may want revenge for their crew members, but they also want their women back.

They were probably paid at least half in advance to get the ladies to where they were going and besides being out that money, the men who hired them are now out the purchase price they were receiving from them when they got delivered.

There’s no doubt, they’re going to try to get me to tell them where the women went, who helped us get them out, and how we got them out.

Well, fuck if I’d ever say one word, at least intentionally.

But I also know the methods they use to get what they want, and we all think we’re strong enough to withstand whatever they dish out until we learn that we’re not.

They’re going to take me somewhere, and if I had to guess it’s either Vegas or closer to Phoenix so they can pick up the girls as soon as they get the information from me.

They wouldn’t take me back to the Harlots, at least not without a fuck ton of men because the Harlots would put one or two of them in the ground the minute they came around.

Think, think, think, where would they take me?