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“That’s my girl, Warthog.”
Tiger’s voice was calm. When her captor shifted around, Tiger’s tall, broad-shouldered form sent relief shooting through her. She wasn’t alone. He was here.
He stood beside the third man who’d been blocking the view of passers-by. Though Tiger had one hand hooked in his jeans pocket, the other loose at his side, the casual posture wasn’t casual at all.
When she’d confronted him in his office, he’d betrayed a temper that could cross the line when he was pushed too far. But the look in his eyes now was one she’d never seen before. It was every bit as cold, flat and dangerous as what she saw in the face of the man holding her.
Brian stood at Tiger’s right. In the older man’s fixed expression, Skye didn’t see the amiable retiree hanging out, shooting the shit with lawyers on six-figure Harleys. She saw the chopper guy who’d rubbed shoulders with bikers most of his life.
A determined-looking Greta stood a hovering step behind her husband. She might be as worried as Skye was, but she was hiding it well. She looked full mama bear, ready to throw down and kick some ass.
Tiger didn’t seem worried at all. Navigating this kind of violence might not be his preference, but it appeared to be familiar territory. She wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or alarming.
He hadn’t been calling her captor names. As her glance fell on his burly chest, she saw the name patch.Warthog.Tiger couldn’t see that from his position, so that meant they knew one another.
Thankfully, Warthog let go of her hair, the most unsettling of his holds, but he kept a tight grip on her wrist. She wanted to shove away from him, but Tiger’s gaze shifted to her, and what she saw there was clear.Follow my lead.
“Let her go and tell me what the fuck the problem is.”
Warthog grunted. “Bitch took pictures of us. Of Rock.”
“This is her first rally. She’s been taking a lot of pictures.” Brian delivered the comment in a similar, what-the-fuck tone. “We didn’t know you were here, so we didn’t know she needed the warning.”
As he spoke, he gestured to Skye’s phone and sent Tiger a significant look, cuing him into the problem.
Warthog shrugged. “We were in the area on other business. Decided to stop in, check out the races and the food. We like the chili cook off.”
Despite the unexpectedly casual comment, his focus on Skye remained unwavering. His attention passed over her body, noting her breasts, her mouth. It was an impersonal yet invasive evaluation, as if judging how well she’d suck dick, or look stripped down to her skin. He was obviously used to being around women expecting that kind of appraisal. “She won’t tell us why she took them.”
“She’s mute. Grinder there is holding the way she talks.” Brian pointed to Warthog’s grip. “That thing you’re digging into her wrist is her medical bracelet.”
Warthog’s I’m-going-to-fuck-you-up look changed to curiosity. He shifted his hold and pulled her arm up to examine the bracelet. “Well, hunh.” Releasing her, he shot Skye an intrigued look. “You can do all that sign language shit?”
The signs she made in response were impossible to misinterpret. Being afraid always pissed her off. She shoved at the male’s chest and glared.
Warthog laughed and grinned at his buddies. Even Rock’s lips curled in a tight smile. The girl gave Skye a speculative look and tossed her long hair over one shoulder.
Tiger’s muscles had tightened, but she saw approval in his expression. That also helped. She held out a demanding hand for her phone.
After a confirming glance at Rock, Warthog jerked his head at Grinder and he handed it to her. Under Warthog’s watchful gaze, she called up the photos, showing him that she’d taken four.
“Shit, you might want to see these, Rock. She made you look not so ugly.” Warthog took the phone from her again, though at least this time he didn’t put his hands on her.
As soon as his attention turned to their leader, and before Skye could make a grab for the phone, Tiger reached out and pulled her to his side. He was right, of course. The phone wasn’t as important as putting space between them. Her gut was churning, her limbs trying to shake. She didn’t want to give these assholes the satisfaction of seeing it, so having his solid form to lean against helped mask it.
She still wanted her goddamn phone back.
Rather than making him bring it over, Rock swung off the bike and strode their way. He was every bit as big as Tiger. He grunted as he took the phone and looked at the shots, but he didn’t seem to agree with Warthog. Instead he held the phone out to Tiger, a pointed gesture as he sent Skye a warning look, telling her she better not reach for it, much as she wanted to.
Tiger had pressed her slightly behind him. He held the phone out so Warthog and Rock could see while he deleted the shots, going into her trash folder to finish the act.
When Rock nodded, Tiger returned the phone to her, their fingers brushing and his eyes meeting hers for a brief but significant contact. Skye tucked the phone into her crossbody bag and shot Rock a venomous look. He ignored her, responding to Tiger’s questioning brow.
“Yeah, we’re good. How you been doing, Tiger?”
The greeting wasn’t friendly. Rock’s gaze was measuring threat and response, like the leader of a pack crossing paths with a lone wolf.
Tiger had glanced toward Skye, a question. She signed it, “How are you?” because he had a good grasp of the basics from his Signing in English class. LikeHow are you, My name is, and Would you like my foot up your ass?
