Page 21 of Baja
He shakes his head and steadies himself. There’s a split second of surprise in his face before it hardens, his mouth then twisting in a cocky sneer. “Come on now, don’t you bikers share whores?” He snarls, clenching his fists like he’s ready to fight.
Good.
Because I’m damn well ready to give him one.
I notice the weapon holstered at his hip, and he sees I’ve clocked it. The motherfucker makes a sudden move, reaching for his gun. He doesn’t get the chance before I’m on him. I swing, and my fist connects with his jaw. Abandoning his weapon, the bastard throws a wild punch but misses. With barely any distance separating us, I’m struck with the rancid stench of stale beer clinging to his breath.That explains why the asshole is fighting sloppy.I drive my knee into his ribs, and he doubles over in pain, dry heaving. I grab him by the collar, yanking him upright.
“You don’t know who you’re messing with.” He spits and coughs, struggling to break my hold.
“A dead man, that’s who.” I drive my fist into his face, his teeth scraping against my knuckles. I slam his face into my knee repeatedly, hearing a satisfying crack before letting go.
The motherfucker collapses. His hands cover his face, and blood seeps through the gaps of his fingers. “You broke my nose, you son of a bitch.” He groans in pain.
Blinded by rage, I pull my weapon and hover over him, aiming for his head, ready to put a bullet in his skull.
“Baja,” Alice’s voice breaks through, pulling me back from the edge. “Baja, don’t. Please. He’s not worth it,” she pleads, her voice barely audible.
“He laid hands on you,” I seethe, my finger twitching like a coiled snake, itching to pull the trigger.
“Look at me, Baja,” Alice begs.
I glance at her, lying there on her side, desperately clinging to her shredded shirt like a lifeline. My blood runs cold at the horrific reality of what this son-of-a-bitch was about to do. I can’t shake the rage boiling inside me, screaming—fucking begging for release.
“Please,” Alice murmurs.
This beautiful woman’s pleading hits me hard. Alice has seen and been through enough trauma, so I’ll be damned if I add to it.
I’ll have my revenge.
Later.
For now, I need to protect and care formy woman.
“This isn’t over,” her attacker whizzes. “You’ll spend a long time behind bars in a cold cell.”
I keep my gaze on the bloody piece of shit. “The only one doin’ time in a dark, cold place is you.” I grip the handle of my weapon tightly, glaring at him. He sneers at me with a smug look. Without hesitation, I swing my weapon, connecting with the side of his head with a sickening thud. He crumples to the ground, unconscious.
I quickly turn my attention to Alice and have her in my arms in a few strides, looking down at her and cupping her face in my hands. The moment my eyes find hers, the air shifts. I’m her anchor, and she is mine. Tears streak across her bloody cheeks, and her body trembles.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, my voice low and soothing. Removing my cut, I pull my shirt over my head, then slide it over hers, careful to avoid her battered face, and help herput her arms through the sleeves. Her green eyes search mine, struggling for clarity. I inspect her further, my gaze sweeping over her body, quickly assessing for any more injuries. The red welt on her cheek is swelling—nothing that looks life-threatening, but it’s enough to send another wave of anger through my body. There’s a large bruise forming on her side, and I press against her ribcage. Alice shifts her body and winces.
“Goddammit.” The words hiss through my clenched teeth as I run the pad of my thumb across her cheek. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.” I choke back the anger burning in my gut and have to stop myself from walking over and putting a bullet in that bastard’s head.
Alice’s hand rests firmly against my chest, and a wave of serenity washes over the storm brewing within me. “Stay with me,” she murmurs, firmly rooting me in place.
I lay my weapon down close and push a strand of hair away from her face. “You aremine. Nobody touches you.Not now, not ever.”
There’s a vulnerability reflecting in her eyes I haven’t seen before, like she’s removing a brick from the wall she’s built around herself.
A low moan snaps us back to reality, and we turn our full attention to her attacker.
“I need to make a call.” I pull out my phone, dialing Prez’s number.
“Yeah?” Salem’s voice booms over the chatter in the background.
“I’ve got a serious situation on my hands.”
“Talk to me,” he demands.
