Page 5 of Fighting a Riot

The rumble from my stomach embarrassed me before I said, “Yes.”

He nodded and stood. “Well, get up. Got a pair of shorts on the bed there, you can wear those with my shirt and we’ll go downstairs. Your stuff is in the dryer. Once it’s done, I’ll take you… wherever you need to be.”

I pulled the shorts on and tied the drawstring to keep them on my hips. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Yak had a hand at the small of my back as we walked away from his room. Two feet down the hall, a tall man with short-cut, wavy, brown hair came up the stairs. He aimed a friendly smile at Yak until his eyes darted to me. His eyes filled with anger and he charged toward us.

“What the fuck, Yak! Club’s already got enough problems.”

“What are you talkin’ about?” Yak asked.

The man pointed a finger at Yak and dropped it. “You agreed nobody gets involved with the dancers and we damn sure don’t mess with the fuckin’ customers!”

The two men stood a foot apart from one another. “It’s not what you think, Turk,” Yak snarled.

Turk’s eyes widened. “I was at the door when her whole party showed up and she’s wearing your shirt!”

Suddenly, Yak crouched. A fist hit me. Searing pain exploded along the side of my forehead.

I staggered toward the wall, my hand clutching my head.

Something crashed against the corridor. I blinked. Yak held Turk up against the wall.

A door swung open and a blond-haired man shoved them apart. “What’s the fuckin’ problem?”

Yak struggled against the blond man’s hold. “You fuckin’ hit her!” The rage in his voice made my breath hitch and my heart skip a beat. I’d never heard anyone get so angry for me. We just met.

“You ducked like a fuckin’ coward. That was an accident,” Turk said.

Yak leaned forward. “Nobody hits her.”

Turk’s eyes glittered with anger. “I’d never hit a woman, Yak. You know that. I’d rather take five fists from every brother than hit a woman.”

Yak exhaled hard and the blond man let go. In a flash, Yak stepped forward and slammed his fist into Turk’s belly. “There’s one from me, motherfucker!”

“Jesus Christ!” the blond hollered, pulling Yak away again.

Two men stormed up the stairs, one of them a red-head. I noticed a name patch on his leather vest, which read ‘Liar.’

“What is goin’ on up here?” Liar demanded.

Yak turned his head. “He fuckin’ hit her.”

“We don’t fuck the women from Platinum’s and it was an accident,” Turk said on a wheeze.

“I didn’t fuck her, asshole,” Yak bit out.

“Then why’d you call her your girl when you came downstairs?” Liar asked.

My breath caught again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Yak said, and I exhaled slow and quiet. “She needs help, goddammit.” Yak whirled around and stalked to me, his fingers moving my hand out of the way. “One of you fuckers get me a damned ice pack. Then one you fuckin’ prospects can bring her up some food.”

A short, stocky guy in his twenties sidled up to Yak with an ice-pack.

He took it and held it to my forehead. “Thanks, prospect.” His angry eyes met mine and I watched the irritation dissipate - a little. “Back to my room, princess.”

“Princess?” Turk asked. “And you expect me to believe—”

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