Page 7 of The Biker's Captive
"It's none of your business."
His hand grips mine. I don't know if he means to be threatening, but all it does is send another shiver through my body.
"Do you have anything in the car, any ID with your address on it?”
I had my driver's license in my purse. But that was the address that I left behind in Seattle. The only address I had was a scribbled note of the place where I could find my mom.
I shake my head, wondering what the hell my address has to do with anything.
"Why do you want to know?”
The man takes a slow breath like he’s weighing how much to tell me.
"How much do you remember of the accident?"
I squeeze my eyes tight as images thrash through my head. The pain, the shouting, the blood. A whimper escapes my lips, and the man caresses my arm soothingly.
"Not much."
"The crash you had was with some bad men."
I give him a raised eyebrow look. With his bloodstained t-shirt and biker’s jacket, he's what I'd call the definition of a bad man.
He must see me looking at the emblem on his jacket, because he glances down and shakes his head slowly.
"Not us, precious. We’re the good guys."
An involuntary snort escapes my nose. His grim look, the blood, the drugs. There’s no way this man’s on the right side of the law.
"Really?"
"Trust me," he says. "This is nothing compared to what The Reapers would do to you.”
The name sends a shiver goes down my spine, and this one isn't pleasant.
“The Underground Crows don’t run drugs, but it's The Reapers that you crashed into, and it’s them I'm worried about."
"What do you mean?"
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear.
“You'll be safe here, precious. What I need to know is if there's anybody else we need to bring in for protection. Like your family who could be easily traced back to your address.”
Bring into protection. I hear his words, but they don’t make sense. The full weight of my situation hits me. I’ve witnessed some kind of drug run gone wrong and The Reapers, whoever they are, will do anything to silence me, including killing me and those I love.
I've never felt so happy to be an orphan.
I bark out a laugh, and Pans looks confused. But the irony of the situation isn’t lost on me. Everyone I love could be in danger, if there was someone still alive I loved.
"You don't have to worry about that," I say. "There's no one else you need to protect."
I can't hide the bitterness from my voice or the sting of tears that threaten. I blink quickly and look away.
Pans gives me a curious look, but he doesn't press.
My answer must satisfy him, because he presses me gently back onto the bed.
"You need to rest, precious.” I can’t say I mind the pet name he’s given me, especially said in his badass voice.
