“Ouch. You’re hurting me. Stop.”
He didn’t listen.
All of a sudden, Sable stood by the bar. “Hound, what’s going on?”
“Prez needs her.”
“Where is he?” asked Sable.
“None of your fucking business. She’s coming with me.”
The more he spoke, the more the fear crawled up inside her. This wasn’t right. Something was off. She didn’t know exactly what, but it scared her, terrified her. She didn’t know what to do.
Looking at Sable, she tried to communicate her fear to the other woman so she’d go and get some help.
Sable rounded the bar. “Hound, I don’t think this is a good idea. I don’t know what’s going on but we both know Forge wouldn’t want anything to happen to her.”
He sighed. “You know, I kind of liked you. I know Dog had a bit of a thing for you, but you talk way too much. No brother is going to make a whore an old lady. I’m putting you out of your misery.”
The sound of the gunshot echoed around the room and Sable fell to the floor.
Hound had shot Sable.
Beth couldn’t believe it.
Forge wasn’t in trouble at all.
This man was double-crossing him or betraying him. Either way, it was fucked up and she couldn’t allow him to do something like that.
He had the gun trained on Sable’s head, about to shoot at her again, and she couldn’t let that happen.
“Please,” she said. “I don’t want to die.”
There was an empty beer bottle within reach. Beth didn’t think. She didn’t allow herself to weigh the cost of what doing this would mean if she was pregnant. Angering a man who looked more like a giant wasn’t a good idea. It was a fucking stupid idea, she knew that. But Sable didn’t deserve to die. She had a right to have a chance at a life, of being happy. She wasn’t about to let another man order and hurt a woman.
She was fucking done with all this shit.
After grabbing the bottle, she slammed it once across his head. It didn’t smash like it did in the movies. She hit him again, distracting him, getting him to turn his attention on her. She could handle the abuse, the pain, the nasty words.
Only, she didn’t stick around to hear it. Charging toward the front of the clubhouse, she ran out, going straight for the gate. His bike was parked near the main doors and she rushed past.
Freedom. If only she kept on running. He’d chase her. She wanted him to chase her, to try to take her out and not hurt her newfound friend.
Pumping her legs, she cleared the gate and took several feet around the corner out of reach of the deserted clubhouse. Strong arms wrapped around her waist and began to pull her back.
“Let me go!” she screamed, thrashing, hitting his hands, and because she was such a bad shot, she landed a couple of blows to her own stomach. She didn’t give up fighting.
Men accusing her of betraying them, being sold to them, telling her how she wasn’t important—it all pissed her off. Their time for hurting her had come to an end. She was done with the entire lot of them. All of them could rot in hell for all she cared.
“Get off me. Let me go.”
He pulled her back to the clubhouse, up near his bike. As she reached behind her to claw out his eyeballs, he threw her across the clubhouse parking lot ground. She skidded in the dirt.
“I’m starting to see what he’s fallen for. You are a little wildcat, aren’t you?”
She got to her feet. Her body ached from the impact. He rushed toward her and shoved her again hard.
Beth cried out as she landed on her butt. The impact jarred her entire body.