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Moving fast, I toss the bike into the road right as Punk drives into its path. The SUV bounces slightly as it rides over the expensive bicycle. The screeching of metal dragging across the blacktop is both hideous and satisfying to hear.
Punk slaps the outside of the SUV door through his open window. “Let’s roll, bro.”
I hold up a finger, indicating for him to wait. I stride to where Trent’s groaning on the sod. The oily prick is a little scrapped up but otherwise fine. Lucky bastard.
Squatting to his level, I get right in his face. His eyes widen with terror when he sees who’s in front of him. He scrambles backward, stopping when his back hits a tree two feet away from where he landed.
“Fuck with either of my babies again, and I’ll make your next accident your last.”
I stand upright, glaring down at Trent. He makes an easy target, shaking in his spandex at my feet. My boot would look so nice connecting with his face.
Somehow, I’m able to walk away without inflicting any more abuse. I did what I came to do to get my point across. My bike may need work, but Trent’s is scrap metal.
“See you at the office,” I call pleasantly over my shoulder before climbing into the SUV and driving away, with Punk giggling like a kid.
CHAPTERFORTY
SIMONE
When Chase returned to the hotel, I was relieved. Him safe and not in cuffs was all I cared about. Judging by the larger-than-life grin on his handsome face, justice had been served. I didn’t ask what he did, partly because I didn’t want to know, and partly knowing Chase would keep me in the dark to protect me. Whatever he did to even the score, I trusted Chase settled it.
Doesn’t mean I’m not sweating bullets as we walk into P.L. Moore Financial to start another day on the case. I’m not sure what I expected as I exited the elevator on the top floor, but finding Trent pacing the conference room with an angry scowl crinkling his orange face is not it.
Before I’ve crossed the threshold, Trent is snapping at me. “Your boyfriend is a lunatic!”
“Good morning to you, too, Trent,” I sigh, setting my purse and laptop on the conference table.
Trent rounds the table to stand in front of me, pushing right into my bubble like he’s entitled to be there. Punk doesn’t approve of his closeness, stepping between us. He places his hand on Trent’s shoulder, forcing him to step back a few paces.
“Six feet apart at all times. Invade her space again, and I’ll throw you out of the damn room.”
Anger radiates from Trent as he swats Punk’s hand off his shoulder. “Get your hands off me. You’re as deranged as your partner.”
Punk beams, obnoxious as always. “Why, thank you.”
Enough of this bickering. I have work to do. “What do you want, Trent?”
“Your biker tried to kill me this morning,” he seethes.
I don’t bother suppressing my eye roll. My tolerance is nonexistent regarding Trent. “Not true. If he had wanted you dead, you would be.”
“Are you serious, Simone?” Trent points at his chin, where he has an abrasion. “What about this?” He lifts his scraped palms. “And these?”
I shrug, unaffected by his minor wounds. “It looks like he was showing restraint.”
“Your bodyguard rode over my bicycle,” Trent nearly shouts, pointing an accusatory finger at Punk.
His harsh tone makes me flinch. “Keep your voice down,” I chide, my temper steadily increasing.
“Simone, you know how much I love my bikes,” Trent whines.
About as much as Chase loves his motorcycle. Oh! I wonder…
My inner bitch smiles, rubbing her hands together. “Was it the bike I bought you?”
“Yes! I cherished that gift.”
Perfection.The asshole had a lot of nerve keeping that bike after I caught him and Cynthia together. The more I imagine Chase and Punk running over Trent’s bike with the SUV, the harder it is not to laugh. It takes everything in me to snuff the urge. A bike for a bike. The irony is not lost on me.
