Page 21 of Psycho

I shook my head slightly, trying to pull back from his hold. He tightened his grip, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from making any noise.

I was going to bruise there. I was sure of it.

“Lainey, why don’t you say hi to Mr. Tyler Robbins here?”

I looked at Dad before I turned my attention to the Robbins guy. “Hi.”

Tyler laughed. “I take that back. I like the fire in her eyes. You’re right. She has definitely grown up to be a real beauty. It was worth the fucking wait.”

Wait?

What wait?

“Not like I had a fucking choice. Not when that fucking psycho decided to put all his wrath into our club.”

Tyler slammed his fist on the table, and I jumped.

Dad loosened his hold on me, and I pulled my hand back and held them behind my back, taking a subtle step back.

So much for being out of his reach.

I didn’t know what Tyler was talking about.

Club?

There was only one club I knew about, and for some reason, I didn’t think Tyler Robbins was a part of the King’s Men MC.

Tyler turned to Dad. “We’re onto something huge, and soon, we’ll have that psycho and everyone in that club destroyed.”

Dad laughed. “That’s what I like to hear. And don’t forget my role in this. Or the prize I am willing to pay to show my loyalty.”

Dad’s eyes moved to me.

Was he talking about me?

Was I the fucking prize?

I blinked because, as terrible as it sounded, I wasn’t surprised, nor could I really put Dad off as someone who wouldn’t do this.

Fuck.

Tyler stood up and I flinched back.

Both men looked at me with varying degrees of amusement, and I fucking hated that.

I stepped back when Tyler walked around the table and headed toward me.

He matched my step with his until I was pressed up against the wall, and he was fully in front of me, not pressed up against me, but not that far, either.

The metal zipper of his jacket brushed up against my arm when he moved, resting both hands on the wall on either side of my head and trapping me.

He wasn’t the biggest man around. About the same height as Dad, who was just shy of six foot, with greasy brown hair, brown eyes, and a sparsely grown beard. His lips were red, his teeth crooked and yellow.

He was older than me by at least a decade, if not more, and wasn’t as built.

Still bigger than me.

I moved my head to the side, looking away from the vicious look in his dark eyes.

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