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Big Dick laughs again, and the sound snaps me out of my sudden paralysis. Stepping forward, I take advantage of his distraction and pluck Harrison out of his arms.
Without a word, I turn and hurry down the road, but I hear his heavy boots on the pavement just behind me. “You ever plannin’ on tellin’ me I got a son, Cora?”
My car. I just need to get to my car.
“I got a right to know my boy, Cora. He has a right to know his daddy.”
Harrison clasps my shirt in his little fist, looking scared to death. “Momma?”
“It’s okay, baby. Just look at Momma, okay? Just look at Momma.”
My car comes into view up ahead, but should I even stop there? Big Dick is right behind me, and as soon as I stop, he’ll stop too. He’ll know what car I drive, and he’ll be able to grab me.
The place is crowded, bikers everywhere, but I’ve never felt so alone. None of these people would stick their necks out to help me, especially if it meant going against the president of the Screwballs MC.
I have no choice.
I hit the unlock button on the key in my pocket and run around to the driver’s side. Opening the back door, I place Harrison on the seat. “Get into your booster, baby, and buckle up.”
I take in Harrison’s wide eyes and I shut the door. He’s never put himself in his seat. I don’t think he even knows how to buckle up, but I can’t afford to stop. I need to—
A large hand wraps around my arm, and before I know it, I’m pressed against the back door of my car. “Slow the fuck down and talk to me, Cora. You owe me that much.”
If I had the ability to shoot fire, I swear this is the time I would do it. His words spark more anger than I’ve ever felt, and flames erupt inside of me. “I don’t owe you shit, asshole. Now let me go.”
“That’s my son.”
I look him straight in the eyes, praying he doesn’t see through my lie when I grit out the words, “He’s not.”
Big Dick smirks, but there’s no humor in it. His eyes are black and cold. Emotionless. His fingertips bite into my upper arms as he pulls me close, bringing us nose-to-nose. “That is my son.”
“He’s NOT!” I roar, slamming my knee between his legs.
Hitting my target, Big Dick’s fingers disappear from my arms. Seeing him bent over at the waist, I shove him back and slip into the driver’s seat, jamming the lock button the instant the door closes.
“You bitch!” he hollers, slamming his fist against my window. “You’re fucking dead, bitch!”
“Momma?” Harrison whimpers. “Momma, why is that man so angry?”
Without answering, I turn the key in the ignition. “Just buckle up, baby.”
I pull out of my parking space, watching through the rearview mirror as Big Dick runs back toward the main road, likely to his motorcycle, his frame bent slightly as he struggles to move through the pain.
Fuck.
“Momma, who was that bad man?”
I continue down the road at a snail’s pace, resisting the urge to blare the horn at all the pedestrians littering the streets. “Don’t you worry about that, baby. Momma’s got you.”
A small parade of motorcycles passes by, and I wait, desperate to make a right-hand turn, but unable to move. Suddenly, in the rearview, I see him.
His motorcycle’s low to the ground, with long ape hanger handlebars and a giant confederate flag hanging off the backend, and he’s getting closer by the second.
Shit, shit, shit!
What the fuck do I do now? If I go home, he’ll know where I live, if Rachel hasn’t already told him.
Rachel.That bitch and I are going to be having words. I may just kill her.
