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My fear mingles with sheer fury, and every step grows more and more determined as I get closer to my room.
“You fucking broke it,” growls one of the men in there. “Leave no trace, remember?”
“It’s not broken. It fell out. Just gimme a sec. Fuck.”
I crouch behind the door frame, peeking around to see what I’m dealing with. A quick glance shows two men with their backs to me. My pulse spikes at the sight of leather and MC patches. I should’ve known that box was going to be trouble.
Aiming my gun at the back of the closest one’s head, I step into the room and settle into a firing stance. Dad always said to bark like the biggest dog in the park when you have nothing to lose, so I do my best. “Get the fuck out of my underwear before I paint the wall with your brains, motherfuckers! Hands in the air!”
My voice cracked a little in the middle, but I think he’d be proud.
The bikers freeze. The broader of the two raises his hands, very slowly. In his hand is Ollie, the little purple stuffed elephant that I’ve had since before I can remember. Somehow, that feels even worse, more personal than the bras spilled onto the floor.
The one holding the drawer nods. “I’m putting this down. No sudden moves, okay?” He doesn’t sound scared, really, but cautious.
“Do it,” I say. “And drop the elephant.”
The big guy gently tosses Ollie onto my bed while the other one crouches slowly and sets the drawer on the floor. Then they both put their hands up. “We’re not here to hurt you.”
“Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it, thank you very much,” I snap. The barrel of my gun stays pointed straight at them, but the end wobbles a tiny bit. These guys are way bigger than me. If I screw this up, I don’t stand a chance. “Turn around.”
They do, slowly. God, I’m so screwed. What do I do now? March them outside? Tell them to jump out the window?
A thick arm comes around my throat from behind, just as a hand locks down over both of my wrists and yanks my arms up so the gun points at the ceiling. I gurgle in panic and struggle with all I’ve got, but his grip is like steel.
I can’t breathe.
Black dots dance at the edge of my vision, and buzzing fills my ears.
Not now. I can’t let it happen right now. Hands become rope, and my jaw aches where two of my baby teeth were knocked out, all those years ago. I try to concentrate on what I’m seeing and not the horror movie in my head, but it’s too close to the worst night of my life. No amount of mindful breathing will pull me through this.
“You’re fucking choking her!” One of the men in front steps closer and yanks the gun from my numb fingers.
“I’mfuckingnot! Faith. Faith!” a rough voice says right by my ear. I don’t know how many times he has to repeat my name before it registers. “Breathe. Your Dad sent us.”
I whimper and he starts to let me go, but when my knees buckle, he pulls me in even tighter. I hate him for knowing how weak I am right now and it makes me angry. “Nice fucking try. You expect me to believe that Dad sent you to break into my bedroom and assault me? That’s a load of bullshit.” Whatever issues the two of us have, my father would never send people to hurt or scare me.
“Assault? You’re the one that drew on us! Jesus. Relax, girl.”
“Relax? I’m not going to freaking relax when there are three assholes in my bedroom.” I draw a breath to scream, and the biggest one of the three lunges at me.
His dark hair is cropped short, but his reddish-brown beard is thick and wild. He slaps a hand over my mouth and forces me to look into eyes so pale blue they’re gray. It’s unfair that such good looks are wasted on someone like him. I shake my head and glare in spite of the unshed tears making my vision blurry.
“Easy,” he says in a deep, soothing voice, like he’s calming a wild animal. “I know this is fucked up but we’re not here to cause trouble. We’re not going to hurt you. If I let go, are you going to scream?”
I shake my head and force myself to relax. Slowly, he lets go and the guy holding me relaxes a little. I just want them to stop touching me. “If you’re not here to hurt me, then leave. I won’t tell anyone you were here, just go.” My voice quavers, barely controlled. My heart is pounding out of control, and my brain is working overtime imagining nonstop horrors and looking frantically for escape routes, primal prey instincts running wild.
“Blade,” the big guy says and nods. A moment later, the grip on me slackens. This time I’m ready, and he lets me go. I whirl around so I can see all of them. They’re not acting threatening, but their sheer physical presence and the situation are enough to keep me tense as a coiled spring.
“I’m Alpha,” says the big guy with the gray eyes. His expression has softened. Now that there’s a little distance between us, I’ll even admit he’s handsome, at least if you like the biker type, which I definitely don’t. Maybe if I met him at a bar I’d be tempted to reevaluate, but theybroke into my house.So no thanks.
The one who was holding me has long black hair, piercing blue eyes and a slash through his eyebrow. It’s not a fashionable little slit, but the result of an old scar that traces a faint line over his forehead. His stare feels like he’s seeing right into the darkest parts of me, where all my insecurities are hiding. He tips his head. “Blade.”
“Ripper,” the last one says with a grin that would be hard to resist if he wasn’t holding my gun. He’s the only one without a beard, and his hair is dark blonde. It hangs down slightly into his face and over his moss green eyes.
I snort. Only bikers would think introducing themselves with names like pit fighters in the Thunderdome would be reassuring. “How do I know Dad really sent you? Why should I trust you? Why wouldn’t he tell me? We haven’t spoken since Christmas.”
Ripper shrugs. “I swear it’s true. He’s an old guy, like fifties, but notbadold, you know? Good shape aside from the bum eye. Uh… bushy mustache?”
