Huck (Golden Glades Henchmen MC 1)

I hadn't heard him approach through the pounding of my pulse in my ears, the whooshing of my blood through my head.

But a hand reached up, grabbed a handful of my hair, yanking me violently back. Pain shot across my scalp, blinding white, as strands were yanked out of my head.

Disoriented, I raised the tray, swinging as best i could with him holding my hair so tightly, feeling satisfaction when the hard wood cracked against Kit's elbow, getting a howl of pain from him but, even more important, I felt his grip loosen on my hair, letting me yank away and whirl around.

I had to get past him to get free.

I swung back with the tray, started the forward momentum, only to feel it stop abruptly as he reached out to grab it, yanking it out of my hands, swinging it himself.

His aim was much better, catching me on the side of my face making pain blank out my vision as I started falling sideways, knowing I was going to hit the ground, but not quick enough to brace my fall.

I crashed down a fraction of a second later, more pain coursing through my system as I threw myself onto my back, remembering something I'd seen once that said never to let yourself get attacked on the floor from behind because there was no good way to fight that off.

Even as my back met the cold hardwood, Kit's body was over mine, his knees on my inner thighs his whole weight there making me cry out, trying to reach out, trying to push him away, to get some relief.

It was right then, over the pounding of my heart, the gasping of my breath, that I heard it.

Bikes.

Coming this way.

Hope swelled in my system.

I only had to hold on a few moments longer.

Then they would be here.

Huck would be here.

He would save me.

But then I heard them keep moving past, disappearing, making a crushing sort of despair crash down on me even as triumph crossed Kit's face.

"I told you they weren't coming for you," he sneered. "You're all mine now," he said, his hands going to my shirt, yanking it upward even as my hands put up a weak fight, trying to bat them away, but feeling my shirt go up, the cool air washing over my breasts, making my nipples harden in response.

"See?" Kit said, lips parted, air coming out quickly between. "I knew you wanted me," he said.

"Stop!" I demanded, hands slapping, punching, raking down his arms, his neck, nothing seeming to deter him. His focus was single-minded as his hands squeezed, his fingers pinched. There was nothing soft about it either, each touch hurt, and no matter how much I writhed, I couldn't dislodge him.

Hopelessness made those damned tears sting my eyes once again.

"Stop," I demanded again, my voice coming out weaker even as he leaned forward, his teeth sinking into my nipple before rising again.

"I've waited years for this," he told me, eyes triumphant as defeat overcame me.

But then his body jolted.

Blood sprayed across my face.

And my mouth opened to scream.

Chapter Fifteen

Huck

It was one of her fucking friends.

Here I was thinking that it was one of the dickheads who talked shit to her when she was just trying to provide some content for them to consume.

But no.

It was this Kit Kat person who she'd had a close relationship with, who defended her against the trolls, who'd had lengthy conversations with Harmon for what seemed like years.

"I think Harmon thinks this is a woman," Arty said. "She shared a lot with them."

"It's not? You're sure? Chicks can be crazy stalkers too."

"Sure. But statistically, only toward exes. But no. This is a guy. The address comes back to a Kit whose middle name is actually Kat because his parents must have hated him," Arty said, not one for jokes in general, but the relief of wrapping up the case was probably making him feel the deviousness from his lack of sleep.

"Okay. So that's who was in the video? Kit Kat something-or-other."

"Gadleigh, yeah. He even moved down here about a year ago, got a job, set up shop in Miami."

"He's in Miami," I said, feeling purpose chase away my worry. "What's the address?" I asked, already making my way to the door.

I could hear McCoy, Remy, and Che behind me as I made my way down the stairs and out the front door, where I was stopped by Seeley who pressed something into my chest as I moved past him.

My hand went out automatically, my fingers finding the cold metal.

A silencer.

"Go get her. And don't get caught," he said, reaching for a cigarette. "I think there's a patch waiting for me when this is all done. I'd hate it if you got killed or locked up before I got that," he said, giving me a small smirk as I rushed past, getting on my bike, putting on my helmet this time, likely put there by Seeley who was always thinking ahead of the rest of us.