Taken by the Outlaw

Editor: Alisha Corsi

Prologue

Gwen

I hated pretending, but my life was a big, fat lie, and it was all my fault. Once I'd finally woken up and decided that I needed to make a change or be forever imprisoned in a relationship with a man who didn't care about anything but himself, I'd tried to escape. It had been a pitiful attempt. I hadn't planned. Just packed a suitcase and thought I'd be able to calmly walk out the door. What a fool I'd been to think that Greg would let me go that easily. He was all about control, and I'd found out quickly that he wasn't going to let me leave.

Ever.

I hadn't needed to hear the words.

I hadn’t needed the beating that had come later.

His face—the same one that I'd found to be so kind and handsome in the beginning—had twisted into a freakish mask that had relayed his true feelings. I remembered asking myself what had happened to turn him into such a cold, hateful monster, but I hadn't had the time to figure it out. I'd known that as soon as he dragged me back home and into the house that it was going to be all about survival. It began like all our other arguments and ended with a visit to the emergency room.

Why the fuck would you think that I'd let you leave?

I met his scowl and angry words with a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I'm sorry, Greg, but I didn't think I'd need your permission to leave. I knew better than to speak to him that way, but I’d thought that reminding him I was an adult and had a mind of my own wouldn't hurt. It's not like we're married. You have nothing to lose if I leave. I knew that I'd made a big mistake from the changing look in his sharp, narrowed eyes.

Always back to that! he snarled. I give you everything! EVERYTHING! Treat you like a fucking queen. He was so angry that his chest was heaving.

I’d never wanted to be treated like a queen, but I wisely kept my mouth shut. I'd only ever wanted a life with the man that I loved. A mutual respect born from a relationship of equal commitment. A family. Greg was right, but his idea of giving me everything was nothing that I really wanted.

My father was right, he snorted with disgust. His father had been a bigoted pig. ’She's low class, son. Uneducated.’

I was only uneducated because I'd quit college to support both of us while Greg had focused on school and building his career.

’She's pretty. Give her a few trinkets. Keep her around a little while. Fuck her out of your system, but never put a ring on her finger.’

I cringed, knowing that Greg was repeating the same exact words that had spilled out of his father's mouth. The man had never liked me. The feeling had been mutual. He was dead now, and those words no longer mattered. Greg had inherited more than his father’s millions, he'd inherited his father's hateful, calculating ways, too. The kind, smiling man that I'd first met all those years ago had been gone for a long time.

What? Nothing to say because you know that I'm right? he grated smugly.

Desperation came through in my response. Yes. You're right, Greg. So let me go. I've given you ten years! I deserve a life, too! With someone who loves me and someone I love. I want a family. I don't care about any of this! I swept my arm out, encompassing the room and its contents.

You're not going anywhere. He moved until he was standing close to me, getting down in my face. You belong to me, Gwendolyn, he snarled. And I like to keep what's mine. He grabbed my chin, squeezing my cheeks. I have yet to find a cunt better than yours. And trust me; I’ve sampled quite a few during our relationship.

Ohmygod! I'd suspected Greg of cheating on me before, but now he’d just confirmed it. It didn't surprise me, and what's more, I didn't care. I might have in the beginning when I was so stupidly in love, but his words hadn't hurt me in the least, and only reinforced my desire to leave him. I knew then and there that I would find a way to do it. Only the next time, I would plan my escape better.

I glared back at Greg. I knew what he was waiting for. He'd wanted to hurt me with his words. The tears filling my eyes were from the painful hold he had on my cheeks, and not any emotional pain his words might have inflicted. He was squeezing so hard that my teeth were cutting into the inside of my cheeks. When he realized that his words hadn't had the desired effect, he slammed his mouth down on mine.

I didn't kiss him back. I remained like a cold-stone statue. I knew what I was inviting by denying him the reaction that he wanted, and I didn’t care. I was done pretending. I'd much rather feel his slap than the hard, dry mouth grinding against mine, intent only on giving me pain. I couldn't even drudge up the memory of how it used to be between us, when I'd lived for his kisses and his touch. Now all I felt was revulsion, and impatience for it to be over.

He pulled away sharply, his eyes blazing angrily down at me. Bitch! And then the slap came, just like I'd known that it would.

You're so predictable, Greg, I said to myself, hating him at that moment. I'd play his game a little while longer. I knew how. I braced myself for what I knew was coming next. I fought him back, and even as his fists were raining down on top of me, a plan was already forming in my head.

A plan to escape him, once and for all.

Chapter 1

Gwen

Damn, I couldn't keep going. Twelve hours straight and I was a fucking accident waiting to happen. It didn't matter how far I went, or how fast. If Greg wanted to find me he would. It could be today, tomorrow, or a year from now. With him anything was possible. It depended on how angry he'd get once he arrived home and found that I'd left him again. He was an abusive, self-centered asshole. I was a bigger one for putting up with him for ten years. For fucks sake I didn't even have a wedding ring on my finger! I hoped he would take my goodbye note to heart because this time he wasn't going to find me and drag me back.

We were done.

Finished.

Forever.

I was over him.

I pulled off the interstate and into the first hotel that came into view. It was an older run-down place that boasted the name of The Pink Pussy Inn. I was too tired to laugh. One good thing, Greg would never think to look for me at a place like this, and he certainly wouldn't be looking for me to be driving an old Buick. He was going to be royally pissed when he discovered that I'd traded his precious BMW, but I'd needed the money, and when you are desperate you’d do anything if it meant your survival.

I parked in the first available spot and turned off the ignition. Then sat there for a few minutes, thinking about what I'd done. Greg's first inkling that something was wrong would be when I didn't pick him up at the airport. Now that made me smile. I still couldn't believe that I'd taken his car and just left. Last time he'd found me almost immediately, because I'd been stupid. I'd underestimated his anger, and his desire to control me. I also hadn't had an initial escape plan which had been stupid. This time I'd thought things through, and I'd made a list. I'd been patient and bided my time, making sure that the timing had been just right.

I yawned loudly, grabbed my purse, and opened the door. Please let there be someone in the office because I sure as hell didn't feel like driving around looking for another place to hole up for a couple of days. I'd made my escape. Now I needed to rest, and I needed the time to come up with a plan that went beyond tomorrow. The car door squeaked when I pushed it closed. I glanced around, noticing for the first time that the place looked vacant, and was dark.

Relief flooded me when I rounded the corner to the office and saw that the light was on. Upon pushing the door open an alarm went off. Almost immediately someone came out from the back office. I stood there in shock for a moment, disbelieving my eyes. The man was wearing a robe, which he hadn't bothered to tie shut, exposing his striped pajamas beneath. God, I felt like I was in the twilight zone or something. I mean, who ran a hotel in their pajamas? Then I recalled the name of the place, The Pink Pussy, it wasn't exactly the Ritz or a five-star hotel.

May I help you? he asked in a thick accent that I couldn't place.

I forced a smile on my face. Yes, please. I'd like a room for a couple of nights.

Smoking or non-smoking?

Was he serious? This didn't look like the kind of place where anyone would care; much less adhere to any rules. No smoking, please. I began to dig inside my purse for some money. I'd used my credit card to fill the car up with gas but from here on out, cash only. Credit cards could be traced. That was how Greg had found me the first time. He wasn't a stupid man. Then a thought occurred to me, and I looked up at the man behind the counter. I was going to have to start being smarter. Is it possible to get a room in the back?

His gaze shifted from his computer. Let me see what's available.

Really? The damn parking lot was empty for fucks sake, and he had to check to see if there was a room available?

Those are smoking rooms, he explained.

I rolled my eyes. I don't really care. I just didn't want to be bothered.

He released a sigh like he'd already gone to a lot of trouble and glanced back at his computer screen. Room 145, at the very back of the building. I'm sorry there's no lighting, we, ah—

I shook my head. Please, it's okay. All I want is some—. I heard a loud vroom vroom from outside, the kind of noise that was easily identified as the sound of motorcycles. I glanced behind me, out of the office windows, but all I saw were the lights on the bikes, and the shadows of riders as they sped past. Great. Bikers meant noise and partying. Hopefully they were given rooms on the other side of the hotel from me.

Do you have AAA? I shook my head. That will be one hundred and forty-seven dollars for two nights.

The door behind me was pulled open, setting off the alarm. Since there was a wall behind the receptionist desk with a mirror on it I was able to see who walked in. It didn’t surprise me to see that it was a biker, a big, badass biker by the looks of him. He was huge. Well over six feet tall, and I knew that because Greg was a slender six feet tall exactly. This man's stature made Greg look like a man wannabe. I grinned at making such a ridiculous comparison, but I couldn't help it. This man was dangerous looking and built like he could handle anything that came his