DEKE (An Alpha Male Motorcycle Club Romance)Book 1

3. Ella

She is living her dad's worst nightmare.

As daughters of the most powerful MC president in the US, her mom has reminded them countless times of the targets on their backs from the moment they were born.

Different sorts of targets. No one ever seems to want her or Brie for who they are. It's always men trying to get into the club, men seeking forgiveness from her dad, men trying to forge ties with her dad.

Men with vendettas against her dad.

Like this one who she holding onto for dear fucking life.

She's never really believed it. She's always put the warnings down to their overprotective dad trying to stop unwanted attention from horny men. As a result the only close males in her sphere are her dad and his trusted generals - the ones she's always trying to ditch.

And successfully ditching them worked fucking well for her. Here she is at a juncture in her life where the first time she gets this close to a man, it's not as her lover but instead as his captive.

She can't see the road ahead because of the wall of muscle in front of her. Even if she tries bashing her head against his back, it will be as effective as a bee waging war on a human with its stinger. For a moment throwing herself off the bike seems an option, but a quick glance at how fast the road is flying under the wheels of this monstrous bike quickly kills that idea.

Why didn't she make a run for it earlier?

Because she had been transfixed by a male more attractive than any male she's ever seen. But the moment his warm eyes turned icy blue, she was in deep trouble. A man who clearly knows how to use his enigma to his advantage.

Rape.

Horrible vile word.

A panic attack is coming on, starting with all the all too familiar symptoms of her racing heart and sweaty palms. Her virginity torn away because of her stupidity. Better to die than be raped.

The bike slows down. She has no idea how long they've been riding, but the adrenaline has kept her going. Fight. Fucking fight him and run.

But they have stopped at an old abandoned house, there are no roads, no houses, not even a dog, only brush and emptiness.

The perfect setting for violence. Secluded, dark, isolated.

"Get off." His voice is deep, low and calm. She gets a good look at him, this time with calculating eyes. She is no stranger to big men, she has grown up amongst men who walk taller and larger than most, her father being the largest of them all.

This man dwarves them all.

He removes his leather jacket and his arms are almost as big as her thighs. Under his shirt, his chest and abdomen bulge no doubt with muscle. And from the incident earlier, unfortunately his size doesn't limit his speed. Her chances are minuscule.

She disembarks slowly, and is slightly taken aback when he takes her helmet and belt around her forearms with a measure of gentleness . She scans her surroundings quickly.

"Don't bother. You'll get maybe five steps, six at most. It's not worth it."

Again his tone is calm, rationale and business like, there is no hint of the earlier sexy ness.

She lifts her chin sharply and stares at him defiantly.

"Do you really think my MC- my dad won't find me?"

He smiles a strange smile. Her heart gallops out of her chest. Her throat is suddenly very dry.

"If he puts his mind to it? Sure."

He turns and walks towards the house.

"But the condition they find you in is entirely up to you." He throws over his shoulder.

Every fibre of her being is begging her to run. He stops, turns and looks at her expectantly. She stares back ignoring her muscles that have now turned to jello. She inhaled sharply and stays her ground.

The memory of the way he had swung her over his shoulders as if she was merely a rag doll comes crashing through. The pain of her scarred skin rubbing against her shirt as she bobbed up and down against him. She hates her fear and her cowardice. This is exactly why her dad and mom have always been so careful with her, more so than Brie.

Always trying to prove that the accident hadn't diminished her as a person. But really she's all bravado and fake confidence. And here when tested, she's just a stupid weak vulnerable girl.

"Come inside, it's getting dark and there are some pretty unfriendly neighbours who'll come sniffing around for food soon."

"I won't! I'm staying right here."

He rubs his jaw.

"You can walk inside yourself or hitch a ride on my shoulder again- it's up to you."

It's not the threat that frightens her, it's reliving the pain. As hard as she tries to ignore it, she will suffer.

"I don't care what you intend to do with me but I'll fucking tell you this, I will fight you with every inch of me - never underestimate a Las Palmas women, we are born fighters. I will die with your blood in my mouth and your skin under my nails".

He stares at her without saying a word. Then his face unexpectedly softens.

"Lucky for me then that I am not going to fucking hurt you. Look, I'm not interested in you, I'm only interested in your fucking old man. So relax, get the fuck inside before I lose my patience and we'll go from there."

She isn't sure if it's what he says or the way he says it, or maybe her intense fatigue and the pain pulsating from the skin on her belly, but it seems so much easier to do what he wants.

She walks slowly in over to where he is, and then past him without looking at his face. She opens the door and strides in.

"Watch out for the-" he calls out.

She screams in pain as her skin stretches with the sudden pummelling to her belly. The last vision she has before she passes out, is his face looking down at her, his eyes filled with confusion and concern.

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Continued in Ella, a separate book