Unforeseen Danger... Excerpt

     Lane tried to relax. He hoped if he tried to send out enough positive vibes, Jack would be able to pick up on them and know that his brother was still alive somewhere. That meant Jack would be looking… probably looking for him right alongside his partner because if there was one certain thing in this world, it was that those two men wouldn’t stop searching for him until they found him, alive… or dead. As Lane heard the scrape of chains against the solid wood door barring his escape from the room, he knew Crewcut had come back and that his suffering would begin again.

     He sat forward, feeling the strain in his arms, accompanied by the other agonies he’d had inflicted on his bare chest and back. Lane was covered with cigar burns, knife cuts, and the coppery scent of blood rose to his nostrils as his newly scabbed wounds broke open and began to bleed. As rusty hinges creaked and the door swung wide, Lane sighed quietly as Crewcut stepped inside the room. The huge barrel-chested bear was dressed in black leather pants, a wide leather harness crisscrossing his chest, and he was biting down on the stub of a cigar clenched between his teeth. He gripped a wide black leather belt stained with Lane’s blood. Crewcut eyeballed him evilly as he drew on the cigar, lighting the end with a crackling red-orange flame for just a second, before lifting his face to the ceiling and blowing the smoke toward it. Lane watched as it swirled in a mocking gray circle, escaping out of the room through a vent high in the wall only seconds later.

     “Are you ready for more of the belt, boy?” Crewcut’s voice scraped across Lane’s raw nerves as the man looked back down at him, moving forward into the room, blocking the ceiling lamp from his view with his flat-top blond haircut and throwing his evil face into shadow.

     “Fuck you,” Lane spat. The sharp taste of blood from the split in his lip slid onto his tongue as he glared at the huge biker in front of him. If he was going to die, it was going to be with every last bit of fight he had in him. He struggled to rise to his feet as Crewcut put a huge Doc Marten boot on his chest and pushed him back on his ass.

     The thug chuckled. “As much as I’d like that, we’re gonna have us a little more fun first.”

Lane tensed as Crewcut pulled the cigar out of his mouth and bent down, holding the burning ember inches from his face. “I don’t know what you want from me,” Lane snapped as he scooted back, coming up hard against the cinderblock behind him. The feel of it was cold against his ravaged back and as Crewcut squatted in front of him, he winced at the pain.

     “Ya hurtin’ boy?” he growled. “All this can be over if ya just convince me ya ain’t a cop.” He reached out and caressed the side of Lane’s jaw with the side of the cigar butt, leaving heat in his wake as Lane squeezed his eyes shut, turning his head aside. Any second he expected the sizzle of burning flesh, the same way he’d endured it so many times in the past several hours.

     “Jes think… there’s so many more fun things we could be spendin’ our time doin’, now ain’t there?” Crewcut nearly purred and Lane swallowed hard.

     Lane turned his head back and found Crewcut’s face inches from his own. “FUCK YOU!” Lane glared at the big man, braced himself, and then jerked forward, head-butting the biker in the nose as hard as he could.

     With a sickening crunch and a loud grunt, Crewcut fell backward in a sprawl, landing all ass and elbows on the filth-covered floor. He grabbed his face where Lane’s forehead had connected. Lane relaxed back against the solid wall, feeling victory in the instantaneous agony in his forehead; he took great pleasure as he watched blood spurt out of Crewcut’s nose and pour through the fingers he held up to it. Lane had known the move would enrage the biker but the smugness in Crewcut’s voice made him crazy and even though he was restrained, Lane knew he had to fight. I’m not going to just lie down and die.

     Crewcut scrambled up, hissing as he regained his footing and he flew at Lane, tackling him to his back on the red mat with his handcuffed arms behind him. He clutched Lane’s shoulders as he climbed over him, digging his meaty fingers into them painfully as Lane grunted in agony. When Crewcut snarled and leaned down in his face, Lane knew he’d overplayed his hand.

     “That was a mistake!” he gritted out, his eyes flashing fire and hate. He balled a massive fist and before Lane could turn his head, it landed on his left jaw with a hard enough blow, he was certain the man knocked something loose. Lane grunted and braced himself for the next blow that landed on the right side of his face and only a second later the breath hurled out of his lungs in a loud WHOOSH as Crewcut connected a balled fist with his solar plexus. Pain exploded in his brain as the blows rained down and Lane reached up and grasped for unconsciousness, grabbing a hold of it as the lights mercifully went out.