Page 27 of Her Possessive Biker
I thrash, kick, scream into the palm covering my mouth, but it’s no use. He’s too strong. And there’s more than one of them. Two. Three. Maybe more. One grabs my legs. Another holds my arms.
“You’re worth a lot more than pies, sweetheart,” Patch-Eye sneers.
They drag me toward a van parked at the end of the alley. The doors are already open. Inside, it’s dark and empty and smells like oil and metal. My heart hammers in my chest.
Reaper will come.
He will.
But I have to hold on long enough for him to find me.
“Should’ve known you’d run to the biker,” one of them mutters as they shove me into the van. “They always do. But he can’t save you now.”
“You’re making a mistake,” I manage to spit, voice shaking. “The Savage Kings will come for me.”
“Oh, they might,” the man says, snapping the doors shut. “But by the time they do, you’ll already be shipped out of state. Daddy’s debt goes deep, sugar. And you? You’re the collateral.”
The van roars to life.
And we disappear into the daylight.
Chapter 9
Holt
The second we roll back into the lot of The Black Crown, I know something’s wrong. It’s too quiet. The energy has changed. The pulse is wrong.
Red's nowhere in sight. Neither is Cassie.
A cold sweat breaks down my spine.
Deadeye frowns beside me. Diesel’s already scanning the parking lot.
“Something’s off,” I mutter.
“Yeah,” Deadeye says. “Real off.”
I head inside. My boots hit the floor like gunshots, cutting through the thump of the music. A few heads turn. One of the prospects takes a step toward me, then stops himself, eyes wide.
Then Red appears behind the bar. Her face tells me everything before she even opens her mouth.
“She’s gone.”
The world stops spinning.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” My voice is low. Too low.
Red lifts her chin like she’s ready for the storm. “She slipped out while I was counting cash in the back. She went to the store.”
“The store?” My heart’s a fist now, hammering inside my chest. “Alone?”
“We were out of flour,” Red says tightly. “I told her to wait. I didn’t think she’d actually—”
My vision goes red.
“She’s not a club girl,” Red goes on. “She’s used to doing things on her own.”
I don’t hear the rest. I’m already moving.
