He nods, eyes fixed on the doorway. “I heard two other bikes with him.”
Dax moves around the bed, pulling the rickety chest of drawers off the wall and closer to the bed. He takes me by the hand, silently directing me to crouch behind it. Here, I’ll be further away from the doorway.
When he turns away, I squeeze his hand, begging him to stay.
He gives me a sympathetic look and leans down to kiss my forehead. “It’ll be okay,” he whispers. “Just stay here. No matter what.”
I tremble at the implication of his words.
He frees his hand and walks away. From this crouched position, I can see past the doorway and into the next room. Dax flexes his hands and cracks his knuckles.
Loud voices boom their way inside. I cringe as heavy footsteps quake their way into the decaying home. My eyes stay on Dax. His stance broadens, watching the newcomers enter. With their backs turned to me, I have a clear view of three Scorpion leather jackets. My heart squeezes and, for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
“Hi, baby bro,” Dax’s brother says with a menacing undertone. “What are you doing?”
Dax swallows hard, watching the three men loom closer.
Lance shoves Dax hard. “Answer me.”
Dax leans forward, rubbing his chest and coughing hard. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Lance, I…”
Lance holds Dax up by the collar of his T-shirt. “What have I told you about coming here?”
Dax grunts. “Don’t.”
Lance smirks, letting him go. “Correct. So, why don’t you listen?”
Dax stumbles to keep his balance. I rise to my knees, ready to step forward and help him, but he subtly lifts his palm, signaling for me to stay put.
“Boscoe and Stitch noticed your bike,” Lance says, nodding at the two other men. “You have them to thank for the drop-in.”
“We saw an extra helmet on the handlebars,” says the older, more rotund man with a long graying beard. “You got someone here with you?”
When Dax stays silent, Lance shoves him again. “Boscoe asked you a question.”
Dax winces, leaning to one side. I hug myself, assuming they hit his bruises.
Lance dominantly leans over Dax. From this angle, I glimpse the large tattoo across his neck. “Hugo told us you were with some pretty little thing from Victoria Falls.”
The third man, Stitch, who’s bald and skinny, grunts and spits on the ground. “Yeah. What’s a dog like you doing with someone like that?”
“Unless.” Lance stands tall, stepping back from Dax. “Are you doing some recon for us, Dax? Is she worth something?”
“What? No.” Dax forces himself upright. “I’m not with some rich girl. How would that even happen?”
“Then who’s here with you?”
“Who else would I be with?” Dax says it like the answer should be obvious. “Stella’s only a few houses up, and here we can get some privacy. Well, that is until you all showed up.”
“You want me to believe Hugo would let his niece ride around with some baby’s-first-scooter helmet?”
“It was just something she had with her. She’s not even here anymore. She’s gone back home. Guys, you ruined the mood.”
Lance rushes at Dax, pinning him against the wall. Dax groans, grabbing his side.
“No,” Lance says authoritatively. “How about you be straight with me?”
Dax grunts, sucking in a breath to get through the pain. “About what?”
