I kept my cool, my mind on one thing alone.
The woman I’d become obsessed with.
If I put in the groundwork for business deals, I’d gone far beyond that in finding out all there was to know about my future wife. Bonnie Braveheart only got more interesting the more I, or my highly skilled tech team, discovered about her.
From first impressions, I knew of her quirky personality, her spark, and her interest in lingerie. Now, I’d discovered her degree in fashion design, unfinished, which I couldn’tunderstand. There must’ve been a reason she’d had to quit school, with her next near-decade spent going from job to job, barely getting by.
It made me reconsider the time we’d met. My guess was that was the culmination of her dream. She’d gone to that department store to sell her handstitched designs. Designs that had been scattered on the floor by the actions of a now-fired womenswear manager.
No wonder Bonnie had taken to her heels and escaped. She must have been devastated. I knew the toil it took to start a business. That she’d got so far was admirable, only for it to blow up in her face.
I’d make it right for her.
But first? I had to catch her.
And what a wild experience she’d led me to. She’d been the one to mention the nightclub which lived in the warehouse complex above our heads. From there, I’d discovered a crew ran the show, and then got a lowdown on their game of chase.
Fucking hell, did I pick the right woman.
A small exchange of cash with a guy on the door clued me in that Bonnie had signed up for the game, as the heavily tattooed gangster who interviewed me wouldn’t give up anything. He’d enjoyed explaining the rules to me, though. Despite his mask, I knew he’d been laughing at my attempt to hide my reactions. I knew business. I knew engine work and mechanics shops. I’d grown accustomed to boardrooms where I could talk out deals and mergers, but I knew shit about underground predator-prey activities.
It fit so well with how I’d met Bonnie, and how I’d chased her.
The guy, Shade, had green-lighted me for a future event, then given an amused laugh when I told him I’d find a way to swap into this one. He said if I could do it, he’d allow it. That part had been a cinch.
One of the bruisers in my cage jostled me, and I stood my ground, bouncing him to the floor. The rules said I’d be up against nineteen other men. They’d be fighting me to catch her. No fucking way would one of them touch her.
If they did, they’d lose a hand.
Bonnie was mine, and I was coming for her.
A siren wailed, swirling neon-pink lights in the darkened cage, then the doors clanked and rattled open. Further down the corridor, the five women sprinted from their dressing room. Howls and cries filled the air as the men spotted their prey, glimpses of skin and ultra-short skirts designed for easy access.
On bare feet and in just grey jeans, I shoved my way through the pack, my focus on the flashes of heels ahead. The slowest woman peered back. Not Bonnie. Not my girl. But I knew she was here. I knew all there was I could learn without her telling me.
A group of men veered left; three brawled on the floor where they’d tripped over each other.
I strode on, unshakable in my path, and with only one woman in my sights.
There she was, dead ahead. I tugged down my mask, and damn did my dick rise when Bonnie Braveheart’s focus locked on me, and fury descended in those pretty brown eyes.
Chapter 7
Bonnie
No way. I must’ve made a mistake. A blink, and the man I thought I’d seen was gone, replaced with others charging at me. Had it been him? The billionaire masquerading as a mechanic?
I shook off the thought. He wasn’t mine. I was here to find a real man, not one who had predators on speed dial.
“Fuck, yeah.” A red-haired masked Viking guy snatched for my wrist.
I yelped and bolted, my heels clicking on the concrete.
In the dressing room, a petite woman had hugged me, her hands shaking with her fear at what we were doing. That same adrenaline only boosted my energy. Whoever I was pairing off with wouldn’t take me down easy. I intended to make it a battle. I wanted to be the one to make the claim.
To my right, the same woman appeared in the centre of the basement’s widest room, a group pursuing her and another pack rounding to intercept. The men crashed into each other, fistsflying. She dropped to her knees, right on the lap of a pretty but younger-looking guy. Their eyes locked. She cupped his face.
Almost as quickly as she’d landed, someone lifted her off. The Viking who’d grabbed me. She screamed, and the first guy yelled and scrambled to chase her.
