The intent here was another one-shot that was supposed to be posted last Whiskey Wednesday. As I got to writing this, though, I couldn't help but realize it couldn't end where I wanted it, it had to be a multi-chapter fic, so my mind ran with it.
As with all my stories, I'm writing this on the fly. I'm not sure of much, but I can very well guarantee that Mac will not be romanticized in anyway. I'd like to keep him true to character as much as possible, so bear that in mind.
Of course, this being a Mac fic, the story will include graphic language, sexual content, rape, physical and mental abuse, and various other graphic material including BDSM. That being said, if you are reading this, you're probably okay with that because you know Mac. If not, I suggest you head away from the canyons slowly and cautiously. Mac may be lurking.
Enjoy!
"Revenge proves its own executioner."
― John Ford, The Broken Heart
The SUV tumbled down the highway at a hundred miles an hour, barreling its way into Utah. At the welcome sign, stating that she had indeed crossed the border into the barren state, she pulled over into the shoulder of the road. She imagined she probably didn't have to veer off. She had been the only car for miles, at least for the last hour.
She waited a few minutes before popping the hood. She leaned over the warm engine, lifting the pressure valve on the radiator cap. When no steam escaped, she twisted the cap off, covering her hand in an old rag before doing so. Once in her palm, she pulled a small pocket knife out and began slowly fraying the rubber seal on the cap until not much was left of it.
"That oughta do it." She muttered to herself as she examined her handiwork. She put the cap back in place, sealing it loosely and getting back into her vehicle, twisting the key in the ignition and heading back down the deserted highway.
About thirty miles later, the SUV was definitely lagging. She watched in delight as the hear gauge in the front console slowly, but steadily, rose until the engine began to knock, just outside of the city limits of Cainville.
She was amazed at how perfectly she had timed it. She chugged the car off the exit and right into town, finding a small oasis in the middle of this desert. Conveniently right off the exit she spotted a large white sign. "The Luna Mesa Oasis." There stood a motel, a gas station, what looked like a bar called the Luna Mesa, and, as luck would have it, a small garage.
The knocking the over-heating engine was producing caused a few stares, but she either didn't notice, or didn't care. She stopped just outside of the auto shop before the engine gave out and the car shut off.
The man at the shop looked up from under the hood of the car he seemed to be working on, grabbing a red rag from his back pocket and wiping off his hands as he sauntered over to her tiny frame, just managing to pop the hood and pull herself from the car.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" His voice was slimy, yet sultry. She caught a glimpse of his teeth, or rather his lack thereof. Under the sheen of sweat, dirt, and grease she could see a series of tiny scabs down his neck. He was wearing dark blue coveralls that shielded most of his body, but she was fairly certain he would have them all over.
"I don't know what happened. It just started over heating." She said, feigning innocence. Even she had to hand it to herself, she was a fabulous actress.
The first thing he did was lean over the engine and pop the radiator cap, smirking to himself when he saw the rubber lining. "Cap's ruint." He chuckled. "Probably outta coolant."
"Can you fix it?" She asked, leaning over beside him to examine the cap herself. She caught him staring at her ample bosom and cleared her throat.
He glanced back up to her eyes. "Course I can." He scoffed. "Gotta wait for it to cool off, first. Go grab something to eat. I'll come find ye." He said, nodding in the direction of the Luna Mesa. "Who should I look for?"
"Cheyenne." She smiled, holding out her hand for him. He cocked his head at her, raising a brow and glaring at her hand, refusing to accept the good gesture.
"Cheyenne." The way he said it oozed sex and sent a shiver down her spine.
She had to admit, he was painfully attractive, despite all his major flaws. She pushed the thought far from her mind. She was here on a mission. "And you are?"
"Ye kin call me Mac. Best not forget." He smirked, giving her another glance at his teeth, this time more close up.
"Mac." She purred, nodding at him as she said it. "I won't forget."
She hadn't pictured him like this. She wasn't exactly sure what she expected. She swished her ass as she walked the few yards to the bar and grill, glancing over her shoulder to ensure he was looking. Of course he was. She had to make herself available to bait the prize. Bingo, she thought to herself as she crossed the threshold past the bat wing doors and into the Luna Mesa.
When she entered the shady establishment, all eyes in the room were on her. It wasn't hard to do when there were only four men in the room. She pushed past the stares and found a seat at the bar, grabbing a menu off the table behind her as she did. She opened the laminated paper and began browsing as an older Mexican man came through into the room. "Can I help you?"
"What's good?" She asked, glancing up at him over the menu.
"None of it." He chuckled. "I suggest this." He tilted the menu and pointed at a burger featuring buffalo sauce and blue cheese.
"Okay." She smiled, putting the menu down. "I'll have that and a beer. Whatever's on tap."
"Alright." He nodded. "So, what's a delicate young flower such as yerself doin' 'ere?"
"Just passing through. I'm stranded until the hick at the garage can fix my car."
He smirked as he pulled a tap in front of him, filling a glass with frothy brew and setting it before her. "Ye on business?"
"You could say that." She smiled at the thought. "I'm tying up a few lose ends for a family member."
"What do you do?"
"It's not important." She glowered, taking a sip from her glass. As far as she was concerned, no one here needed to know anything about her. She was here for one reason, and one reason only; revenge.
Cheyenne was beginning to lose faith in her mechanic when the sun started setting. The bar tender, Walter, told her to be patient. Mac didn't like to be rushed and she would get her feelings hurt if she tried to pressure him.
He mentioned that he ran the motel nearby and would give her a room for a fair price if she didn't want to drive all night. She was hoping it wouldn't take quite that long to get her car back. Sure, she needed to be in Cainville, but she also needed a quick getaway.
It was starting to get dark now and more and more people had been filing into the building. She was beginning to think it was the only place in this Podunk town. She made the transition from beer to whiskey as soon as the moon was full in the sky and she heard a coyote in the distance. She resolved that she would probably need to take Walter up on that offer for a room when she heard a very distinct voice shouting from the porch, just beyond the door.
He traveled in a pack, the alpha dog in the center of everything. Mac lead the way as his peers followed close behind him. They filed in the building, circling the pool table. Mac slipped from the door to the bar and helped himself to a bottle of Jack Daniels, grabbing what glasses he could reach and joining his group at the pool table.
"Looks like I'll have to take you up on that room." Cheyenne muttered to Walter.
"Mac!" Walter snapped.
His head spun around and he glared at the man behind the bar. He reluctantly walked over, whiskey glass in hand. "What?"
"What's the news on the car, son?" He asked calmly, nodding in Cheyenne's direction.
"Blew the radiator completely. I 'ave ta order a new one. Can't order it till ye pay for it."
Cheyenne realized she was stranded. She hadn't planned this far ahead in her strategy. "How much will that be?"
"I'd say $100, easy."
"I don't have that kind of money." She simply stated.
"I'm sure we could work somethin' out." He smirked, raising a brow at her as he finished his drink.
"Enough, Mac!" The old man snapped. He reached for something under the bar but Mac stopped, putting his hands in the air and taking a step back.
"Thanks, but I'll figure something out." Cheyenne muttered. "Walter, about that room-"
"Say no more." He sighed, pulling out a little gold key with the number 5 on it. "Don't worry about it, it's on me." He held his hand up.
"Really, I can't."
"I insist, go rest." He said sternly.
She emptied her glass and picked up the key from the counter. Mac dangled her car keys in front of her face and she snatched them, pushing past his looming figure and out the swinging door.
She stumbled down the stairs, feeling the full effects of the alcohol in the cool night air. She tromped through the dust and straight to her car, unlocking the trunk and grabbing her bag. She slipping in the passenger seat and pulled the .45 Colt in the secret Velcro compartment in the seat. She tucked the gun in her purse and trudged back across the lot to the motel on the other side.
The rooms were labeled simply, numbers 1-10. Five was somewhere in the center. The key fit the lock and she slipped in the room, taking care to lock it behind her as she rifled through her bag. She was surprised to find that everything seemed to be there and untouched. "Stupid hick…"
"We can't afford to have another girl go missing, Mac. We're one missing person away from having the FBI in the middle of everything. We can't afford for that to happen." Walter bellowed.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Mac muttered under his breath.
"I mean it, son. Keep it in your pants."
"Jesus fuckin' Christ, okay! I heard ye, old man!" He stormed out of the storage room and back into the bar, back to his friends.
Sure, he had contemplated killing her. He'd fuck her before and probably after, of course, ripping that sweet little pussy of hers open with his giant, pulsating cock. His dick was getting tight in his pants just thinking about it.
She'd whimper. Her eyes would get big, bloodshot, on the verge of bulging out. She would make the sweetest pleading noises. She would scream, All while her tight little cunt squeezed the life out of his dick. Then he'd squeeze the life out of her.
Shit, he couldn't quite remember why he would have ever thought of saying no. Walter wasn't the boss of him. Well, even if he was, what Walter didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
