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He shrugged.
Staring at his chest with black cotton stretched across it and a leather vest sporting the Disciples patch worn over it, she questioned why she cared whether or not this man had a festering wound from a bad tattoo. He probably killed people and deserved to die a painful death.
He continued to stare at her.
After a long minute, she caved.
With a resigned shake of her head, she waved her fingers. “Let me see.”
He stepped forward. As he grabbed the collar of his T-shirt and tugged it down to expose his pec, she held her breath.
The hard, rounded muscle was totally blank, the skin unmarked by a tattoo or any sign of a wound.
She sucked in a breath.
In that heartbeat, she realized what he wasreallyshowing her—he wasn’t with the gang.
Their gazes met.
In the other room, the voice on the phone grew to a roar as the speaker reamed out Viper and the other guy. Then the call abruptly cut off.
The door flew open and slammed off the inner wall. Wren jumped, and the biker—who wasn’t a biker at all—stepped away from her.
Viper strode across the room, bearing down on her. She didn’t even have time to blink before he wrapped his fist around her hair and dragged her forward.
A shrill scream burst out of her. Pain tore through her scalp as he yanked the strands out by the roots.
“Come on!” Viper barked in a hard voice.
With his stronghold on her hair, she had no choice but to rush along in his wake.
“Let her go.” The harsh grit in the big guy’s voice sounded with an edge of warning.
Viper stopped dragging her and whipped to face him. “You’re new here, but you’ll learn. This is how we treat bitches.”
He took a step closer, nose to nose with Viper. “Thisis how we treat assholes.”
He didn’t get a chance to cock his fist before Viper pulled a knife.
A big arm sent her flying backward, but not before she realized that Viper was out-classed in size, strength and skill. The biker lunged for Viper. Their bodies arced through the air, landing hard on the floor.
The biker rolled to his feet, and so did the jerk keeping her captive. A scream built in her throat. She staggered farther away, pitching up against the wall. Pain radiated through her shoulder and down her arm.
She never tore her gaze from the fight. Viper leaped forward, knife extended. The lethal point swiped inches away from the biker’s toned midsection.
The biker dropped into a lower stance and danced around him. “Let’s go, motherfucker. Show me what you got.”
Viper darted forward again, knife outstretched.
It happened so fast that she almost missed it. The biker grabbed Viper by the arm and bent it around.
Next thing she knew, the handle protruded from Viper’s gut.
The biker released him, and Viper hit the floor with a sickening thud.
Wren stopped breathing.
She glanced between her protector and the man on the floor.
