Page 97 of Keep Him Like Secrets

He wasn’t looking at me.

He was looking behind me.

It was right then that I heard the click of heels.

My stomach tightened.

Because I knew that sound. I knew that walk.

I’d been hearing it daily for years.

I half-turned to find Teresa walking up beside me.

“Hey, Renzo,” she called, lifting a hand to wave at the man on the stage with Saff and Alen.

“What thefuckis going on here?” I asked, head spinning.

“Yeah,” Renzo said, looking at me, then giving Saff a hard look. “That’s a good fucking question.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Saff

I knew I’d fucked up five feet inside the door of the club.

I heard the shuffle of feet on the floor just a second before two arms grabbed me. One closed over my mouth. The other clamped hard around my midsection, crushing hard enough to steal my breath as he lifted me up off my feet.

I was adept at fighting men who were larger than me. Since just abouteveryman was bigger than me.

But this body behind me was a tank.

He was easily twice my width, with an arm that was about as big as one of my thighs.

With my arms pinned against my body, I couldn’t use the damn knife that was cutting into my palm to defend myself.

I tried flailing my legs, kicking in the air, trying to throw him off balance.

But it was like trying to move a brick wall.

“Who do we have here?” he asked in my ear as he walked inward, away from the door.

It seemed to take no effort at all for him to carry me along with him.

My gaze scanned around the room, noting all the tools that Gav and his crew had left around: hammers, mallets, screwdrivers. All great weapons if I could just break away and get to them.

I was held just a little too low to be able to use my head to whack his nose or chin. I couldn’t get my leg up high enough to kick him in the balls.

That left me with one weapon I could utilize.

I squirmed and wiggled until I got just low enough to lean down and sink my teeth into the guy’s arm.

“Fuck!” he roared, dropping me suddenly.

I slammed down on my knees, pain ricocheting up my thighs and hips. But there was no time to let myself feel it.

I scrambled up, my eye on one of the hammers.

I had my knife tucked in my palm, but when it came to fighting off a much bigger target, blunt was going to trump sharp every time. Especially when it was just a tiny little knife. I was more likely to break off the blade in this meaty guy’s arm than actually be useful.

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