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“She can say whatever the fuck she wants,” Mayhem spat. The other men reached toward their weapons. “Try it,” Mayhem warned. “I’m already aiming at the one in charge. Which means he dies first, and the rest of you get to explain why you started a war with the Toxic Monsters.”

Grant’s face hardened. “Monster won’t go to war over some random woman.”

“You’re welcome to test that theory,” Mayhem challenged. The threat hung in the frigid air.

Monster. Delaney didn’t know who that was, but the name made all three men hesitate.

Grant slowly lifted his hands. “You have no idea what she’s involved in.”

“Neither does she, apparently,” Mayhem said.

“She’s lying,” Grant insisted.

“Then I guess I’ll have to figure out the truth,” Mayhem said. He moved closer to Grant, his gun never wavering. “But here’s what I already know. She’s bruised, barefoot, and terrified. You brought five men to drag her back to wherever she escaped from. That makes you the bad guys.”

Grant glanced toward the woods. Mayhem’s voice dropped. “If you’re wondering whether my brothers are on their way, they are.”

Delaney hadn’t seen him call anyone. Maybe he was bluffing, but Grant didn’t seem willing to risk it. “This isn’t finished,” he warned.

“For you?” Mayhem smiled coldly. “Probably not.” Grant backed toward the SUV. The other men followed him, keeping their hands close to their weapons, and the doors slammed as they climbed in. Both vehicles tore away from the shoulder, tires spitting gravel as they disappeared into the darkness. Mayhem watched until their taillights vanished. Only then did he lower his gun.

“They’ll come back,” Delaney whispered.

“Yeah, let them,” he growled.

She stared at him. “That doesn’t bother you?”

“It bothers me.” He holstered the weapon. “It just doesn’t scare me.”

“It should,” she said with a shiver.

He shrugged. “Not much does these days.” Mayhem removed his leather vest and wrapped it around her shoulders. The heavy material held his warmth and smelled faintly of smoke, leather, and something clean she couldn’t identify. Delaney pulled it around herself.

“Did you really call your club?” she asked.

“My phone is in my pocket,” he said.

“Then you lied to them,” she accused.

“I preferred to call it creative conflict resolution,” Mayhem said. A shaky laugh escaped her, and Mayhem looked startled. “That’s the first time you haven’t looked terrified of me.”

“I’m still terrified of you,” she admitted. “I’m just hiding it better.”

“Good, your instincts aren’t completely broken,” he teased. He climbed onto the motorcycle and steadied it between his legs.

Delaney eyed the seat behind him. “I don’t think I can get on.”

Mayhem turned toward her. “Can I help you?” The question caused something painful to tighten inside her chest. He could have simply grabbed her. He was strong enough to put her wherever he wanted, and she was in no condition to stop him, but he asked. Delaney nodded, and Mayhem lifted her carefully onto the back of the bike. He adjusted her legs before guiding her arms around his waist.

“Hold on to me,” he ordered.

“My ribs hurt,” she admitted.

“Put your hands wherever it’s comfortable.” She rested them against his stomach, and she felt his muscles tighten beneath his shirt. For one strange second, neither of them moved.

Mayhem covered her hands with one of his. “Better?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. He started the motorcycle, and the engine roared beneath them. Delaney looked over her shoulder. The road behind them was empty, but she knew Grant was still out there. She knew the men who had taken her wouldn’t simply forget she existed.