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I could sense her frustration, but I didn't appreciate the attitude. "Don't talk to me like that," I warned. "I just helped your ass escape whoever is after you. I deserve some respect."
She looked down at her coffee mug and muttered something under her breath. "What did you say?" I asked.
"I said respect comes with trust, and I don't trust you," she spoke up more clearly.
I couldn't help but smirk. "Yet here you are. With a total stranger, begging him to help you."
"I'm not begging," she retorted.
"Isn't that what you just did when you knocked on my door?" I pointed out.
Her eyes blazed with anger. "I don't need your help."
She stood up, tore off the leather jacket, and threw it in my face. Her wet shirt revealed her taut nipples, and her hair framed her face. She glared at me with fury. "I've lived my whole life alone. The last thing I need is grief from a fucking biker."
I knew that her words were fueled by fear and frustration, but I still didn't appreciate the insult. "You know what? You're right. Maybe I should have just left you there to die.”
She looked about to cry right before she whirld away from me. I watched her storm out of the diner, and noticed a few men eyeing her as she left. One of them started to get off his stool to follow her, so I quickly slid out of my booth and approached him. Placing my arm on his chest, I forced him back into his seat.
"Where do you think you're going?" I asked sternly.
The guy's eyes flicked to the old man sitting next to him, who shook his head and took a bite of his toast. He understood the situation and glanced at the patch on my leather vest.
"Let it go, Mike. She's hisproperty."
If only that were true, I thought as I made my way past them. The guy grunted and turned back to his food. I looked at every man in the room, daring them to make a move, but they all avoided eye contact and went back to their own business as they waited out the storm.
I put on my jacket and headed out into the darkness to follow her. I spotted her a few hundred feet away, the light of the streetlamp illuminating her small frame.
"Goddammit," I muttered to myself as I sprinted towards her.
As I approached her, she turned to face me. The rain continued to pour down on us, the wind cold and swirling around us, blowing her hair in all directions. Her eyes were like pools of fire, ready to incinerate me.
"I don't need you, so stop following me! Your job is done!" she shouted.
"I didn't know I was on a job!" I retorted, raising my arms and looking up at the dark sky.
"Well, you are. How much do I owe you?" she asked, challenging me.
"You couldn't afford me, even if you wanted to," I replied, narrowing my eyes at her.
“Try me,” she seethed.
As much as I wanted to take advantage of the situation, to teach her a lesson, I decided against it. Instead, I tried reasoning with her. My way.
"Where the fuck are you gonna go? A little spoiled rich girl like you who can't even tie her shoe without somebody offering to get on their knees and tie them for her."
“Are you offering to get on your knees. Cause I’d pay to see that.” She bit back, igniting me.
I came toe to toe with her. "I have news for you, sweetheart. I'm not your employee or some peasant you can command. I will never get on my knees for anyone. You want to survive this, you do as I say, because right now all you are to me is a spoiled rich brat who's quickly becoming one helluva burden."
"Fuck you!" She yelled into my face, and I smirked, loving those sparks of fire that flew out at me.
"That's right. Fuck, me."
I grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her back to the diner. She was yelling out obscenities and trying to get out of my hold, but I wasn't paying attention to her tantrum. If I did, God only knows what mess she'd get herself into. Besides that, if I let anything happen to her, Abigail would find a way to have Riddick beat the shit out of me.
The bells hanging in the doorway chimed as I opened the door, announcing our return, all eyes back on us. I dragged her over to the phone booth and sat her down on a stool.
