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“Who are you and where the hell am I?” This dude had a lot of fucking nerve, and if he thought he was getting anything from me, well he’d learn the hard way that I wasn’t a pushover. Oh hell no. Peaches and Chance back in Opey made sure of that.
He flashed what could be considered a friendly smile but it was more of a grimace and the darkness in his eyes told me to keep my guard up. Way the fuck up.
“The name is Brendan Rhymer.”
He held his hand out, and I just stared at it, taking note of his short blond hair and almost black, brown eyes. Or was that just the bags under his eyes? He was lanky and covered in tattoos which didn’t tell me anything about why I was here.
“Right. You’re inside one of my properties.” He spread his arms wide, proud as if this shit hole was something to be proud of.
“So you’re what, a crack dealer? A pimp?”
His smile faded instantly.
“Careful bitch or I’ll skip all the nice shit and put some smack in your veins and put your ass to work.”
The gleam in his eyes as he spoke told me he wasn’t just some gangster. He was one of those men Peaches had warned me about. Those sick fucks landed in this type of work simply because it was this kind of work and they couldn’t do anything better.
“We’ll see if Virgil still wants you after you’re all used up.”
There was my answer. He was an enemy of the Ashby family and a really bad motherfucker. But I remembered what Peaches said about our strength as women. It wasn’t physical strength, not in the way men understood anyway. It was in our ability to survive. To mind fuck.
“I guess you got your intel wrong because Virgil isn’t my boyfriend. He’s just a booty call.”
“Right. Bitches lie all the time. Keep quiet.”
He pointed a finger in my direction, trying hard to seem like he knew what he was doing, but the man was spiraling. Maybe needing his next drink. Or fix.
“You didn’t think this through, did you?”
“I said shut the fuck up!” His face turned red, like bright fucking red, and he put both hands to his head as if that would clear his thoughts.
“Whatever happens to me is irrelevant, you know? You’re dead. Like really fucking dead.”
He marched toward me and leaned in close enough that I could smell the nicotine and booze on his breath, barely able to keep from recoiling at the stench.
“Yeah? You think Sadie fucking Ashby will go to war over a booty call?”
Oh good, he has no fucking clue who I am. “No. But I don’t think your little setup here is enough to handle the Ashbys and the Reckless Bastards.”
Surprise lit his dark eyes but he covered it quickly. “A biker whore too? You’ll fit right in around here.”
Now it was my turn to smile, ignoring the way my heart raced at his nearness and the evil lurking behind his eyes. “Not a biker whore, but thanks. Family.”
Surprise again, and then anger. “Poe!”
A few seconds later the bald fucker from the SUV appeared in the doorway. “What’s up?”
“Hold this bitch for me.” There was that gleam in his eyes again, and I slid back on the disgusting mattress instinctively. The asshole reached out and grabbed my leg.
“Oh no, don’t run from me. You’re tough.”
I was tough, goddammit but this was different. I was also terrified. My heart beat so fast I thought I’d have a heart attack.
I kicked my leg out, barely missing his chin and hitting him square in the chest.
“One of us has to be,” I grunted and scrambled away from him.
The bald fucker, Poe, was right there, and he stepped behind me, scooping his arms under mine and lifting so his hands cupped the back of my head, until I was so stretched, I could barely move without pain.
“Be still,” he grunted.
“Fuck you!” I flailed and cracked my head back, striking some part of his head but he barely grunted.
“Not yet, but if that’s your thing I could have a whole slew of motherfuckers in here in minutes.”
Brendan practically foamed at the mouth as he produced a six-inch blade, curved and serrated. He stepped closer, leading with the blade and I kicked out at him once again. He dodged the kick with a laugh and grabbed the neckline of my dress, sliding the cool metal against my skin.
His knife slid through the simple dress I’d worn to meet Bonnie at church. Shit, Bonnie. She was on the line when all this went down. Surely, she would have called someone. That thought helped a lot, and I kicked out at Brendan again and the tip of the knife slid against my thigh as a warning.
