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Slipping out ended up being easier than she’d expected. Most of the guys had paired up with women, drinking, dancing, or making out. Loud music helped hide her actions. Brooke and Curly weren’t anywhere to be found. Hopefully, they’d snuck off to make a few naughty memories.
At least someone was having a good night.
She took her time walking from the clubhouse to the renovated barn. The thick, humid air reminded her of late summer in Chicago, yet May had barely begun in Florida. She’d almost reached the barn when the twig snap had her whirling left.
“Hello?” she called out.
A darkened figure emerged from around the barn, making her take a step back.
“Well, if it isn’t the princess.”
Dante. One of the men who’d confronted her and Brooke a week or so back.
Immediately the hairs on the back of her neck stood straight up, and she took a step back. This couldn’t be good. “W-what are you doing here?” Instinct told her to run, but she’d make it two steps before breaking an ankle in her damn heels.
“I came for the party. Easy to slip in when the place is loaded with people.” Much as he had the last time she’d seen him, he wore dark jeans and a T-shirt under an unaffiliated motorcycle cut. The same odor he’d given off last time—deli meat—wafted her way, turning her stomach.
“Party’s that way,” she said as she pointed toward the field behind the clubhouse where the bonfire could be seen raging away. Not that he’d been invited, but she only needed to divert his attention for a few seconds to get the hell inside the barn.
Didn’t work.
He reached out and grabbed her arm before she could step away. “Where you running off to, princess?”
“Let go of me.” She tugged but couldn’t free her arm from his bruising grip.
“Come on,” he said, pulling her to him. His damp shirt pressed against her bare stomach. “Night’s just getting started. Since you don’t seem to be in the mood for a crowd, how about we have a private party?”
“No thanks,” she said as she twisted her arm back and forth. Her skin burned where his fingers dragged across it.
Still grasping her wrist, Dante propelled her backward. She had no choice but to walk, or she’d fall on her ass. Her back hit the barn, startling a squeak from her.
With each passing second, her heart pumped faster, and her stomach sank lower. If she didn’t get away from him, something awful was going to happen to her. She knew what it was but couldn’t allow her mind to go there.
Think, think.
He grinned down at her, revealing a few gaps in his teeth.
“Back up. You smell disgusting.” She tried to shove him, but he laughed and grabbed her hip. Rough hands landed on her bared skin below her crop top. Disgust crawled over her skin like a horde of insects, so different from when she and Scott had inadvertently touched.
Scott!
“My b… uh, my ol’ man, Spec, is waiting for me upstairs.” He’d been wary of pissing Scott off the first time she’d met him. She couldn’t blame him for that one. Hopefully, his fear remained. “He was in a shit mood today and didn’t feel like partying. I promised I wouldn’t be long. He’ll freak out if I’m not up there in the next two minutes.”
As though she hadn’t spoken, his hands inched higher until they rested just beneath her breasts. She froze for a split second, but then rage took over. She wouldn’t end up violated like that poor girl Lance had taken advantage of. Hell no.
She shoved with all her might, screaming, “Get the fuck off me!” Her words disappeared into the night, drowned out by the loud music.
Dante laughed. “Feisty little, slut, ain’t ya? Bet Spec loves that shit. Little pussy cat hissing and spitting at him.” Leaning in, he pressed her against the wall with the heavy weight of his thick body.
Hot, rancid breath drifted over her ear, making her cringe.
“I like it too,” he said before licking up the side of her neck.
She gagged and struggled for all she was worth, beating on his back and trying to kick him, but his heft rendered her ineffective. “Help!” she screamed. “Get the fuck off me. Help!”
One hand returned to her body, sliding under her crop while the other slapped over her mouth. He pressed so hard she couldn’t move her lips enough to bite his palm.
A muffled scream left her as his fingertips grazed the undersides of her breasts.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Tears leaked out and rolled down her face. No way could she look at him as he touched her against her will.
A howl came from somewhere nearby an instant before Dante disappeared.
Olivia’s eyes flew open. She blinked, then zeroed in on two men battling it out in the dirt. “Scott!” she yelled.
