T.A. (Biker Bitches 6)

Excusing himself after all the autographs had been signed, he carried his bag of groceries over to her.

“Ready?” she asked him as he drew near.

“Yes… Damn!”

At his curse, she looked at him questioningly.

“I was going to get some gift cards for some of the members in Ice’s club.” Taking his car keys out his pocket, he handed them to her.

“Go ahead. I won’t be a minute.”

“Okay.” Taking the keys, she left as he walked to the card center that was near customer service.

Getting in the car, she took the brownies out of the bag. She popped the lid open and took out a brownie. She was taking a bite when she saw the older woman who had overheard her comment about fucking Dalton come out of the store. Her car was two parking spaces over from Dalton’s.

T.A. ate her brownie as the woman opened the back door of her car to put her groceries inside. If she hadn’t been watching the woman, T.A. would have missed it, it happened so fast. The large man who had shoved her cart aside ran up to the older woman, punching her on the side of her face, knocking her down.

When she saw the thug bend down, T.A. lost sight of him over the roof of the car next to Dalton’s.

Her hand went automatically to the door handle, slinging it open to help the woman, not even caring about her own safety when his sucky friend ran from the corner of the building to bend down over the fallen woman.

As she ran forward, both men’s heads reappeared, and from their movements, she realized they were kicking their victim.

T.A. screamed as she ran closer, trying to make them stop kicking the elderly woman as her helpless cries to stop fell on deaf ears.

“You better have more than ten dollars, or I’m going to stomp your fucking brains out,” the larger one grunted out, not stopping as she tried to push him away from her.

“Leave her alone!” she screamed out, hoping to draw more help. The customers leaving looked away and hurried to their cars as fast as they could. Before she could scream out again, she found the air leaving her stomach with a pain so intense she had to grab on to the car to keep herself from falling.

“Quit fucking with her. Find her keys and let’s go.” The one who was still bent down was going through the woman’s purse that had gone to the ground when she had been punched. The man who had punched her in the stomach gave her a threatening glare.

“You got any money?”

“Fuck you!” she managed to gasp out. T.A. braced herself for another punch when a cold voice had the two men and her freezing.

“If you know what’s good for you, you won’t touch her again.”

T.A. stared in dismay as Dalton walked to the front of the car. Both thugs turned their attention to him; the one who had been going through the purse stood, tossing the purse down.

“I bet he’s got more money than either one of these bitches.”

The one who had been about to hit her egged his cohort on.

“Hurry, before the cops come,” he hissed, maneuvering around the open car door.

“I do.” Dalton’s face grew even harsher. “Why don’t you come and get it?”

The taunt was the only motivation they needed to strike out at another victim. Frightened for Dalton, she wanted to throw herself at one of the men who were now barreling down onto him, but T.A. wanted to get the elderly woman safe from harm.

She was going to help her to stand and put her in the car, but the lady was too hurt to move. Seeing the car keys under the car, T.A. grabbed them and hit the alarm button. The loudness didn’t stop the vicious fight that had started.

Her hand went to her mouth to stifle the cry that was rising from her throat, afraid she would distract Dalton from the lethal knife that was coming toward him in the hand of the man who had punched her.

Dalton’s hand striked out, knocking the knife from his hand. Holding his wrist, the thug started backing away while the smaller one made his move. Dalton’s hand went out again, this time striking the attacker in his throat, his lethal knife that T.A. hadn’t even seen from the position she was standing falling to the ground.

The man with the hurt wrist tried to grab his friend and flee, but his friend slumped to the ground, his face growing red as he tried to breathe.

Her own breath caught at the sight of Dalton’s face; it was a mask of deadly intent. When the one with the hurt wrist heard the approaching sirens, he tried to cut and run, starting to bolt between the two cars. Dalton casually reached out with a flick of his hand and jerked him backward by the collar of his jacket.