Disobeying my inner voice of reason, I edge further down the side of the building.
“Where the hell have you been?” a garbled, mocking voice bellows from within.
I raise on tippy toes to view through the dusty window. Three burly men sit along a bar, which is cluttered with beer bottles and glasses of whisky. Standing at the bar is a lean man with a muscular physique. He straightens up in order to grab Dax by his leather jacket.
Dax exhales hard when the man drags him closer.
“Huh?” the man says loudly near Dax’s ear. “I asked you a question, pip-squeak.”
Dax shoves him off and straightens his jacket. “Lay off, would ya.”
The man appears to be twenty-five, and he laughs in a taunting way. “Come on, man. Can’t a guy be concerned about his baby bro?”
Dax grumbles, walking away from the bar. “Why would you start now?”
The man and the burly crew at the bar cackle together as Dax disappears into the darkened rear area.
I lower onto my heels and turn back toward the road.
“Well, well,” a husky voice says behind me. “Who do we have here?”
My breath hitches in my throat. I spin around to see an older, grease-stained man grinning at me under a handlebar mustache.
“Hello, princess,” he says, bearing a set of yellow teeth. “Looking for a bit of fun?”
I suck in a shallow breath, tripping over my feet as I back away from him.
The man chuckles, stepping toward me. “Don’t be frightened, girly. I won’t bite.Hard.”
Instinctively, I clutch my side where my purse usually hangs. My heart sinks, thinking about my bag sitting on the backseat, my cell phone resting inside. I want nothing more than to call for Roger’s help. If I yelled out his name, would he hear? Or would the moment I open my mouth enrage this man into hurting me?
The man steps forward, but is distracted by movement behind him. He turns around, and I spy Dax moving our way from the garage. He notices me and hastens his pace.
“Whoa. What are you doing here?” Dax asks, blinking hard at me.
The man sniggers. “You know this chick?”
“I know she shouldn’t be around the likes of you,” Dax says, stepping up to the hulking man. “Go back inside, McCoy. This doesn’t have to be a thing.”
“Give me a break,” McCoy says, growing stern. “I saw her first.”
I back against the wall, shivering as Dax shoves McCoy away from me. When Dax steps toward me, McCoy powers a fist into Dax’s side.
My hands rush to my mouth as a gasp whooshes out. Dax’s lips press together, muffling a moan. He then cracks a fist and smacks a bent elbow into McCoy’s chest. Dax then swivels and punches him in the chest.
Dax shoves McCoy away, kicking dirt behind him as he yells at him to get inside.
McCoy straightens up and spits onto the ground. He roughly wipes his mouth, staring hard at Dax. “Only because I know it’s not worth roughing up Malone’s kid.”
McCoy goes inside, and I place a trembling hand over my chest, desperate to slow my anxiety. But when Dax locks onto me, any hope of calm vanishes.
On his approach, my back fixes to the wall, and there’s only a sliver of air between us. His forearm raises over my head and rests against the wall. His eyes glue to mine in a way that makes blinking impossible. His breath hits the side of my face, and I wince at the lingering cigarette scent. If fear hadn’t paralyzed me, I’m sure my knees would knock.
“Hmm?” he says in a gravelly tone. “What are you doing here?”
I swallow hard. “I… I…”
His eyebrows knit together, and he frowns in confusion. “How did you get here?”
