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As she lifted the cardboard cup to her lips, a twig snapped behind her. Chloe whipped her head around in time to see a man emerge from the woods wearing black jeans and a black leather jacket. For a moment, based on the countless hours she’d spent around bikers the past few months, Chloe instinctively smiled at the newcomer. Then, her brain caught up to her eyes, clueing in to the fact this man was not a Hell’s Handler.
Chloe sucked in an icy breath as a wave of fear crashed into her. Didn’t matter how many times she trained with Jigsaw for a variety of threatening scenarios, instant terror remained her gut reaction. Once she took a breath and recalled her training, and that she could no longer be considered a weak, vulnerable woman, she calmed.
Somewhat.
Without a word, she set her cut down, stood, and forced herself to take one slow step away from the bench. Sprinting away would only highlight her fear, and if this man was predatory, make her the perfect prey.
“Sit down, Chloe,” he said.
She stopped dead in her tracks as though she’d hit a brick wall straight on. He knew her name.
Was this the guy who’d showed up at the diner?
How did he know who she was?
Shit! With fight or flight impulses warring in her brain, Chloe turned until she was facing the man. He stood about fifteen feet away, with the bench her only barrier.
A Santa hat rested lopsided on his head. By no stretch of the imagination could the man be considered handsome. Maybe some years ago, before someone smashed his nose, rendering it crooked. The one ear she could see flared out from his head in a bulbous display of cauliflower ear. But what captivated her in the most terrifying way was the gleam in his eye. Totally opposite of anything she’d expect from a man impersonating Santa Clause, the guy’s eyes shone with pleasure at her discomfort.
Chloe swallowed, caught somewhere between the intense desire to flee and the fear of being chased. Pursing her lips, she blew out a slow breath. The small trick she’d learned to avoid panicking barely worked. With each rapid beat of her heart, a thunderous pulse pounded in her ears. Giving in to the anxiety right then could be disastrous. She was strong. She knew how to defend herself. She could handle this.
Fuck yes, she could. She’d battled far worse and come out on top.
The small pep did the trick, curbing the immediate threat of a full-on freak-out.
“W-who are you?” she asked, internally cursing the tremor of her voice. As she’d done in the past, she channeled her inner Izzy and squared her shoulders. Who cared how petrified she was on the inside? This asshole wouldn’t be allowed to see it on her face or in her stance. “I asked who the fuck you were.”
“Oh-ho,” he said with a laugh as he took two steps closer. “A feisty one. I admit I wasn’t sure what to expect from you, Chloe. I’m pleasantly surprised it’s not a meek little woman jumping at every shadow. Seems like you survived your…ordeal.”
Not only did he know who she was, but he knew what had happened to her. How?
You’re strong like Izzy. You’re strong like Izzy.
“I’ll ask one more time before I walk away. Who the fuck are you?”
“The name’s Crank. Enforcer for the Chrome Disciples MC. We’re new ’round here, but don’t worry, you’ll be seeing us plenty. I’m sure you’ll be used to us in no time.” As he spoke, he advanced on her until he stood directly on the other side of the wooden bench.
Oh, this was bad. Very, very bad. “This town is claimed by an MC,” she said as though he hadn’t heard it before.
“So I’ve been told.” He rested his hands on the backrest of the bench. “Actually, my president had a little chat with Copper yesterday.” He huffed out a laugh. “Not exactly a welcoming fucker, is he?”
“Depends on who’s coming around. He was very welcoming to me.”
Crank straightened and let out a laugh. The up and down leer he gave her had Chloe feeling as though her sweater and down jacket weren’t adequate protection from his x-ray vision.
“I’m sure he was, darlin’. I’m sure he was.” He licked his lips, taking his sweet time as he continued to undress her with his eyes.
“Hey,” she snapped as she worked to fight the nausea. “Why don’t we cut the shit. Just tell me why the hell you sought me out.”
One dark eyebrow rose as a smirk tipped his mouth. “What makes you think—”
Chloe narrowed her eyes as she lifted a hand. “I said, cut the shit. Not sure how stupid the women you’re used to being around are, but I assure you, I’m not one of them. So, tell me why the fuck you wanted to talk to me.” No longer cold, the anger that had chased away her fear made her toasty warm.
