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Nothing fucking works.
The sound of screeching tires behind me fills me with anxiety. Is someone coming to help me? Are they more men with the guys trying to take me? My stomach twists in knots.
I should have stayed in bed with Tucker. I bet he’d be making me come right now. But no, here I am about to be stolen and sold because I made a mistake while stealing from dangerous men.
The roar of a bike coming in fast comes from the direction of Mistletoe Creek, but it’s only one bike. Reinforcements? Could it be Tucker?
I’m almost afraid to dream.
“You better let the woman go before our brother gets here and he sees how you’re touching her,” a voice shouts from behind me, a voice I know.
Crucify.
I wish I could sink to my knees in relief, but I can’t. Not yet anyway.
The roar of the motorcycle gets louder and then cuts off right before Tucker bellows, “Robyn.”
My eyes go to him immediately and the absolute devastation, fear, and murderous intent on his face has my nipples pebbling and relief filling me. Him being here is great, I realize, but that doesn’t make me safe.
The man who is gripping me pulls a gun from his waistband and points it at someone behind me as the other two men near the truck take aim as well. One of them is pointing their weapon at Tucker and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“You better let my woman go. Right fucking now. It’ll be the only chance you have to not end up with your body parts scattered through the woods for the animals to find and devour.”
I shiver at the warning and promise in Tucker’s voice.
Everything around me is a blur and it’s like I can’t focus on one thing. I don’t know if that’s good or bad. Maybe it’s a way for my mind to protect me because it feels like everything is happening so fast and so slow at the same time.
The man holding me sneers, “She’s yours? You’re the man stupid enough to get involved with a thief?”
“Better than a sex trafficker,” I mumble under my breath and wish I could slap my hand over my mouth.
What the fuck is wrong with you? Shut up.
Solid advice. I’m going to try and take it.
“Don’t worry about my woman,” Tucker snarls.
Slight movement pulls my eyes toward the man who was guarding the truck and I watch with horror crawling up my throat as his fingers starts to tighten on the trigger. Before he can shoot, three shots ring out at the same time and warmth hits the side of my face.
The man’s grip loosens and then falls away.
I hear…something, but I can’t latch onto anything, and I don’t want to look around me. I don’t want to know.
But I need to.
I force myself to start to turn toward the man who was just holding onto my arm, the ache of his grip setting in already. A huge body slams into me and arms wrap around me as I’m pulled against a chest. I know it’s Tucker and tears start to stream down my face as I bury my face against him.
“Fuck, Robyn,” he growls, anger vibrating through his body and his words, “what the fuck were you thinking? Where did you go and why didn’t you wake me up? You put yourself in danger.”
“I know. I’m so sorry,” I sob. “I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without you. I wasn’t,” I don’t get the rest of the words out because my crying becomes borderline hysterical.
I think I’ve earned the right to some tears, but I still hate how it makes me feel vulnerable and weak. Tucker pulls me even tighter against him while whispering soothing words. I know he’s still pissed at me and the situation I put myself in, but the fact that he’s comforting me anyway has me falling even deeper in love with him.
“Brother, we can’t stand in the middle of the road all day with these bodies,” Crucify’s gentle voice comes from behind me, and I know it’s for my benefit more than Tucker’s.
I burrow deeper into my man and whimper, “I’m sorry.” I feel on the edge of panic as I clutch the fabric of his shirt in my fisted hands. “You have to forgive me. You have to. I’m sorry.”
Tucker grips the hair at the back of my neck and pulls me away from his chest just enough to look down into my eyes. He just stares at me for a moment, our gazes locked without giving any attention to the movement of his brothers around us or the dead men on the road. I can see anger in his eyes, but there is also love there I never want to take for granted.
