BAM!
She jerked. The sound of boots on the floor made her muscles tense. Oh, God. She covered her mouth. They’re checking for survivors. Murmurs of voices penetrated the wall that separated them. Her muscles tensed. The door flew open and an older biker with a shock of long gray hair, broad shoulders and a black leather vest stood before her.
His eyes were wide and his gun lowered. He looked as shocked as she felt.
A heartbeat passed.
She lifted the bottle and sprayed. He yelled and she sprang into action, darting around him.
“Get that bitch!” he bellowed.
A group of bikers crowded in on her. She slid around the corner and ran smack dab into a massive hunk of man with dirty blond hair, blazing blue eyes and a scowl that made her think of Vikings of old. “You shouldn’t have run little girl.”
His gravelly growl ruffled her feathers and pushed her over the edge she was precariously balanced on. Anger filled her and exploded forth like a volcano. She slammed her head forward into his. Stars danced behind her eyes and blackness engulfed her vision. She fell back, welcoming the darkness that swallowed her whole.
Lark moaned as she became aware of the pain. Her head and body ached. She blinked,
wincing as the light pierced her eyes.
“About time you woke up.”
The rough growl was a bucket of cold water. She pried her heavy lids open. The events of before returned in a rush. Her chest heaved as she fought to keep her breathing steady. The blurry shape in front of her cleared and she made out the massive frame of the man she’d head butted. She gasped.
The area around his eyes was blackened and puffy. His nose was swollen and slightly off center. “Remember me?”
Terror struck, she jerked and found herself unable to move. A quick glance down showed
her wrists and ankles were bound to a chair. Her shirt was covered with what must be this man’s blood. The thought disgusted and pleased her. At the very least, she’d caused him some pain. It was a thought she would probably cling to when he brutalized her body later on.
“Yeah, you’re what we call a flight risk.” He studied her with narrowed eyes. His blond hair was slicked back and the muscles in his arms twitched as he flexed. His jaw appeared to be carved from granite. He wore a black vest with a wicked grinning red devil. Dueling Devils M.C.
Newson, New Mexico.
“What are you going to do with me?” she croaked.
His hand shot forth with lightning speed. He gripped her chin and squeezed hard.
She cried out.
“I ask the questions, not you. You got it.”
“Y-yes.”
“You’re lucky you’re a woman. Because if you were a man, I’d have killed you for this.” He released her face. “You’ve stumbled into a whole new world. We don’t take lip from women, so I suggest you curb it. I’m the best bet you got of getting out of this alive. I was riding with them as a favor. Hell’s Minions don’t play and you just sprayed a veteran member in the eyes with some shit. Lucky for you, they found a broken nose trumped that. So, you belong to me.”
“I don’t belong to—”
“Are you listening to me?”
She flinched.
“You’re in the one percenter world now girl. Woman are owned, claimed or shared. Which
one you want?”
She shook her head, unable to comprehend the way these people lived. A woman wasn’t a
piece of property. Her stomach rolled up on itself. Right now, she was at his mercy.