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She whipped her head in his direction. “I’m not on drugs. Look, I was just trying to…oh. Forget it.”
Why would she even bother at this point? They didn’t deserve anything. In a matter of minutes, they had offended her, spoken rudely to, and accosted her. She glanced around, taking in their smug amused expressions. Now they had resorted to mocking her. She shook her head in utter disgust. It didn’t pay to be nice.
“Just forget it,” she whispered.
She started to the door, and the man who’d let her in stepped aside, giving her a clear path. A few more steps, she’d be down the hall and out of there. She stopped at the edge of the hallway and turned back. She should have kept her mouth shut and kept walking, but something inside her, the part that had been mocked and ridiculed in the past, would not allow it.
“I actually felt bad for all of you. I thought losing your friend was hard enough, and maybe coming here and returning the package might,” she shrugged, “I don’t know, give you solace. Ya know, I didn’t come here for thanks or anything else, but truth be told,” she folded her arms and gritted her teeth, “I didn’t have to stop. God knows the other car didn’t. I didn’t have to call 9-1-1 or wait with him until the ambulance got there. But I did it because it’s who I am. Nice.” She scowled and shook her head in disgust, turning her head and aiming her gaze at Trax. “Not like you jerks.”
She immediately turned to the door, acutely aware of the tense air and the silent room. She pulled back her shoulders and felt a warm rush of pride. It wasn’t often she stuck up for herself, especially outnumbered in a room full of alpha men. She smiled as she pushed open the steel door. Score one for the underdog.
The air smacked her face at the same time she felt a hard grip wrap around her forearms. Oh fuck. She thrashed her arms, swiping at the man grabbing her. “Get off me!” She watched the door slam shut. Her panic set in, and her racing heart threatened to explode. She cocked back her head and felt the instant pain shoot through her neck when she connected to his head.
“Fucking cunt.” He didn’t release her or even loosen his grip. That stunt had made him enraged. His large hands covered her stomach, tightening his hold, and she cried out when his finger dug into her ribs. She was lifted and brought back to the main bar where all the men stood.
Trax stalked over toward her, and from the look on his face, she was fucked. His jaw squared, and she read the rage on his face. Why the hell didn’t she just leave quietly?
“I-I’m sor…” Her stuttered apology was cut short when she realized his harsh glare was aimed over her shoulder.
“You better not have fucking hurt her.” He was seething, all his anger directed at the guy who grabbed her.
“Her? Trax, she fucking clocked my nose. Bitch could have broken it.”
“Let her go before I do fucking break it,” he snapped, reaching for Cheyenne’s wrist, tugging her next to him. Her chest brushed against his arm, and he pushed her behind him. “Told you to bring her back, not fucking hurt her, asshole.”
Now this guy was being her savior? What the hell was going on? His hand was still holding her in place, but his thumb glided over her pulse in a soft caress. The move should have calmed her, but it didn’t. There was too much anger and rage circling the room. Though it was no longer aimed at her. She peeked past his arm to see all eyes now on the man who manhandled her.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, man.”
“Fuck your apology.” He lunged forward, but Rourke stepped in front of him, blocking him. She wasn’t sure why she did it, but she reached out and gripped the back of Trax’s shirt. The last thing this day needed was a bloodied brawl. Her knuckles grazed his back, and he froze.
Kase stood next to Rourke. “She’s fine. He fucked up.” He glanced over Trax’s shoulder, meeting her stare. “You’re the girl?”
She tightened her grip on his shirt and nodded. He drew in a breath and scanned the room before stepping back.
“Bring her in the back.”
Panic set in, and she shifted her gaze around the room. Her grip on Trax’s T-shirt tightened, making it awkward when he turned around.
“I don’t wanna go in the back.” Her voice trembled with each word.
The corner of his mouth curled, making his face soften. He reached around to his back and unraveled her fingers from his shirt. She yanked her hands away and drew them between her breasts, twisting her fingers. A small internal alarm sounded in her head. She was officially in survival mode. She shifted her gaze, accessing her best escape route. She must have taken longer than she should have. Trax stepped forward, grasping her hand, tugging her past the bar and down another hallway. She barely had time to react. As they moved forward, her attention lowered to their hands intertwined. The rough callouses rubbed against her palm. She should have been pulling away, but instead, she moved closer. It was a strange pull, a warming in her belly. When was the last time a man held her hand? Without thinking, she grazed the pads of her fingers over his knuckles. They were a bit rough as most men’s hands were, yet it only increased her desire. She tightened her grip and meshed her palm against his. I miss hand holding. He led her into a room and leaned around her to slam the door closed.
She realized her mistake. While she was mesmerized with hand holding like a middle schooler with her first crush, she was being carted away to a back room. Alone.
It was a large room, but not what she expected from bikers. A long conference table sat center in the room with matching chairs around the table. The only man who was seated was the president, Kase.
I’m screwed. She jerked her head, taking in the men who all watched her intently. She silently calculated how many steps it might take to get to the door and bolt. She eyed the men again. Four versus one. I’m so screwed.
She backed up but hadn’t realized she was still holding hands with Trax. He tightened his clasp and pulled her closer, leading her to a chair situated across from Kase.
She noticed not all the men from the bar had come in. Actually, aside from Trax and Kase, only Rourke and Gage were in the room.
“Sit.” Kase motioned to the chair.
Whatever was happening was not good. She scanned the room again before making a rash decision. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She yanked her hand from Trax.
“No.” She rushed to the door, only to be blocked by Rourke. His palm slammed against the wood door with a cracking echo. She jumped back.
