Page 62 of Biker's Babygirl

Despite everything, I feel a surge of affection for him. Ellie’s right—we’re family. Every single one of us. Turning to my right, I see Elvis, silent and strong as usual, waiting for orders. Even though every nerve ending in my body is crackling with nervous energy, as scared as I am about what might be happening to my babygirl right now, I’ve never had a better team by my side.

“Okay. Let’s head out,” I order, and together, the four of us move as one.

Ginny

I smell him before I see him. The scent of cigar smoke and the strong cologne he wears to attempt to mask the smell wafts toward me. Once upon a time, it was one of the things I found endearing about him, before love turned to fear for my life.

That same fear sinks into my stomach and knots into a ball that weighs me down.

Stop it, I tell myself firmly, setting my shoulders and sitting up as straight as I can.I’m not doing this beaten-puppy-dog routine anymore. If he’s going to kill me, let him kill me. What I won’t do is give him the satisfaction of seeing me cower and beg!

When he comes into view, despite my resolve, my breath hitches. He’s many things, Lucas—cruel and mean-spirited to start. But he’s still, even now, one of the most attractive men I’ve ever seen. Somehow, I’d either forgotten this, or he’s grown even more handsome in the mere weeks we’ve been apart.

Which with any other human wouldn’t seem possible, but I’ve long held the belief that Lucas is part demon, so it makes sense. Despite my fear and borderline hatred of the man, I can’t help but catch my breath at his outward beauty. His hair is jet-black and slicked back. His olive complexion is flawless and a perfect complement to his gray eyes. He is lean, but his shoulders are broad.

It’s the only thing he has in common with Duke.The thought flits across my mind, unbidden. I grit my teeth and shut it out. The last thing I want is to comparethisman to the one I love.

“Ginny.”

His voice is as alluring as his face—at least to those who don’t truly know him. Hearing him say my name sets my teeth on edge, and I grind them together as he gets closer to me.

“How are you?”

Play the game, tell him what he wants to hear,my self-preservation whispers. But I don’t listen. I practically spit at him. “How do youthinkI’m doing? You kidnapped me!” I screech so loudly it hurts my throat.

Lucas reaches the bed and doesn’t wait to be invited before taking a seat next to me. “Kidnapped you?” he repeats, his voice gentle with just the right amount of confusion. “You were running away from that house. The boys and I assumed they had done something to harm you, and that you were coming back to me. Wehelpedyou.”

He reaches for me, but I dodge his touch, glaring. “Then what happened to my head, Lucas?”

My accusation doesn’t faze him. “You tripped.”

I grit my teeth and glower, my nostrils flaring. I don’t remember what happened, and I can tell in his eerily expressionless face that he knows it and is using it to his advantage. This is just the beginning of all that is wrong with Lucas—the gaslighting with zero remorse.

“Then why am I tied down?” I snap, lifting my leg to punctuate my point. The cord around my ankle stretches as I do.

“We didn’t know what kind of state you’d be in when you woke up. We worried you might have a fever and not know what you were doing and leave again.” His gray eyes, sharp and hard as flint, stare into mine.

Not know what you were doing. Leave again.So that’s how he wants to play it.

“How are you feeling?” Lucas sits down on the bed and reaches out again, caressing the side of my face. I cringe as his fingers brush across my skin, but he either doesn’t notice, or doesn’t care.

“My head hurts,” I admit. Despite my best intentions, the admission comes out sounding soft and babyish.

The flare of triumph in Lucas’s eyes is almost more than I can bear. With hat simple slip of tone, he thinks he’s beaten me, that I’m being subservient to him.

Let him think it. It’s what you need to stay safe.

I’m at war with myself, hating the practical side of my brain that only wants to survive. Survival for what? I already know I don’t make a good runaway. Twice now I’ve tried and failed. Chances are good I won’t find another chance, and even if I do, there won’t be a strong, sexy Daddy to save me.

“Here.” Lucas is downright benevolent when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out two capsules which he holds out toward me.

“What is it?”

“For your headache. It’ll help.”

I hesitate. The pills don’t look familiar to me, not that that means anything. It could be a large dose pill of Ibuprofen, or sleeping pills, or cyanide for all I know.

“Come on, Little Ginny. Be a good girl and take your medicine.”

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