Page 46 of Burning Ember
I barely hear him past the pounding of my own heart. But he’s insane if he thinks I’m going anywhere near him.
My mouth feels like it’s filled with cotton. “Why?”
Giving me a hard stare, he lifts the gun. “We gonna do this merry-go-round bullshit all day? I’ll drag you over here if I have to.”
Shit.
“I-I’m supposed to be hands off.”
“Yeah? Says who? Dozer?” He pushes a quick breath through his lips making a “Pfff,”sound. “You gonna give me what I want willingly or am I gonna have to use force?” He gives me all of two seconds to respond before he kneels on the bed, reaches for me.
His large hand skates over the sheet and finds my ankle. “Force it is. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with that.” An evil smile flashes over his face. “Actually I prefer it that way. Makes it more interesting.”
A hard knock at the door has him pausing. We look at each other. The promise I find in his eyes is haunting. It says, “We’ll be revisiting this soon.” Another knock comes and a second later, the door swings open. But by then, Mr. Tats is a foot away from the bed and the gun’s no longer in his hand.
Although the tension in the room should probably ratchet up at the arrival of another hard-core biker dominating the doorway, it lessens. Some of the fear rioting through me deteriorates at seeing Dozer standing there.
Dozer scans the scene in front of him. His eyes widen and his nostrils flare. “What’s goin’ on?” I see suspicion and concern in his features.
The biker smirks, shrugs, and walks toward him. I notice the gun is tucked behind his back in his pants.
“I’m hungry. Just wakin’ her up.”
“Hungry? You better mean for food.” Dozer mumbles before he looks at me. “Did he touch you?”
I rapidly shake my head. I imagine by the look on Dozer’s face that if I’d said yes, this would escalate rapidly, and the other biker has a gun. Dozer doesn’t know that.
As Mr. Tats comes up to Dozer, Dozer pins him against the doorframe, putting his forearm on the guy’s chest. “Taz, don’t bullshit me.”
Taz, I’m guessing is the guy’s name, throws Dozer’s arm off and pushes Dozer back into the opposite door frame. They’re about the same height. Both huge, ripped with muscles. Dozer’s bigger, but not by much. If I wasn’t so unsettled, I’d probably be able to appreciate the view.
“Lay your hands on me again, and VP or not, I’ll cut them the fuck off and feed them to you. Just wakin’ the bitch up.”
Dozer glances at me. “What’d he do? What’d he say to you?”
Taz stares daggers at me.
“Nothing.”
Dozer must see some of the fear I’m feeling flash over my face, because he growls to Taz, “Mav put you up to this, didn’t he? Where is he?” Dozer pushes Taz aside and leaves the doorway. Boots pound on the hallway floor.
Taz tells Dozer, “Door was open. The stray wanted company.”
Then banging sounds from down the hall.
“Mav! Get out here, asshole.”
A few seconds later, I hear Mav’s unmistakable voice. “What?”
“You sic your fuckin’ dog on her? You kiddin’ me with this shit?” This is followed by a few seconds of silence.
Then in a thickly accented voice, Mav says, “What the fuck’s goin’ on?”
“I’ll tell you what the fuck. Your pit bull here broke into my fuckin’ room, like that.”
Taz leaves the doorway and joins the argument. “I told you. The door was fuckin’ open. Looked to me like she was wantin’ a visitor.” There’s a pause and then. “Is she or is she not supposed to be cookin’ fuckin’ breakfast?”
Another pregnant silence. “Why was the door open?” Mav growls the same time Dozer says, “The door wasn’t fuckin’ open. Lyin’ motherfucker. I locked it last night when I left her.” After that, I hear grappling noises as if they’re going at each other.
