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He chuckled as though he found her truly amusing. Eyes still on her, he walked around the bench until he stood within touching distance. Almost without thought, Chloe curled her fists and slid her right leg back a long step. The fighting stance she’d drilled over and over with Jig and Izzy provided comfort.
“Retract those claws, kitten,” he said. “Don’t you want an answer to your question?”
No. She wanted nothing more than for him to disappear. Not only had he scared her and pissed her off, but now he’d ruined a place she’d considered her safe haven.
But the guy had a reason for being there. Whatever that reason was, she’d bet it was bigger than her. It had something to do with the Handlers, and Chloe needed to find out so she could relay the message to Rocket or Copper. After a breath, she relaxed her posture, letting her hands fall to her sides, but keeping them fisted.
“Speak,” she said.
Crank pulled a cigarette of his pocket, lit it, inhaled, then blew out a long cloud of smoke. Chloe clenched her teeth as she waited. This was all a game, and one she refused to lose. He could make her wait, take his sweet time, there was no way in hell she’d beg him for information.
Finally, after another drag, he said, “Had to meet the woman Lefty lost his life over.”
She forced herself not to react on the outside while reeling on the inside. How did he know? Outside Rocket’s brothers, the only person who knew what had happened to her, the real story, was her brother Scotty. And even he didn’t know the name of the man who’d kidnapped her, raped her, and had beaten here bloody, flipping her world on its ass.
So how did this guy, this random biker know details no one else did?
“I—” she cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come on, Chloe. We were getting along so well. Let’s not start lying to each other now. I know all about you. All about the time you spent in a certain motel room last year. And all about the man who rescued you.”
She couldn’t speak. Could barely draw in a chilly breath. Rocket’s past was mired in secrecy and operations so confidential he couldn’t begin to tell her about most. The man had been an assassin for crying out loud.
Chloe’s mind raced as she tried to form her next words. Before she had a chance to speak, Crank said, “Just wanted to introduce myself, kitten. Met a few other ol’ ladies at the diner the other day. It’s nice to know how easily I can…get in touch with the Handlers’ women.”
A subtle threat?
“You know him?” she asked, finally finding a voice through the fear.
He tilted his head.
“Lefty.”
A sinister smile curled his lips. “Picked up on that, huh? Guess you were right, you’re not a stupid one.”
He knew Lefty. Shit, what the hell did that mean? For her? For the club? Did he plan to somehow turn Rocket and Copper in for Lefty’s murder? Or were his intentions even more sinister?
Lost in her head, she didn’t realize he’d walked even closer until the words, “Let’s just say we have some mutual business associates. I mean had. Right? Since no one has seen him in six months.”
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
“You have exactly three seconds to get the fuck away from her before I put a bullet in your fucking brain.”
Rocket. Chloe’s eyes fell closed as the fear leeched from her body. Rocket was there. He’d protect her, get them out of this unharmed. Of that, she had no doubt.
Crank snickered and stepped back, raising his arms to head level. “Saved by the killer,” he said.
Chloe immediately took three giant steps back as her head whipped around. Where was Rocket?
“Walk to me, babe,” he said as he emerged from the woods to her left, a long, black rifle perched on his shoulder. He looked about as comfortable holding the deadly weapon as she did carrying a purse. One strong finger caressed the trigger, and though he was a good thirty feet out, Chloe had no doubt he’d hit Crank right between the eyes if he tensed that digit just a bit more.
With her heart trying to leap its way out of her chest, Chloe walked to him. The entire trip, she could feel Crank’s gaze burning a hole in her back.
“Left side,” he said the moment she reached him. All business, Rocket kept his focus on Crank and his finger on the trigger. As she assumed the instructed position on his left side, opposite his gun, he asked, “He touch you?”
“No.” She shook her head.
Rocket didn’t speak again, but then, she hadn’t expected him to. Over the months they’d been together, she learned he much preferred to wait people out, especially his enemies. Most people couldn’t handle silence for too long, especially under the spotlight of Rocket’s coldest glare.
