Page 16 of Scarred Souls

“It’s happening. Let’s go.”

This was about to become a very uncomfortable journey.

Grim leaned over the bar, grabbed my purse, and tossed it into my lap. How had he known exactly where to find it? I wasn’t sure I was prepared for the answer to that.

I was in no state to clean up the mess in the restaurant, so the bloodstains and strewn furniture would have to wait until morning. I headed for the door, and Grim followed. He stood nearby while I switched off the lights and locked up.

“Where’s your car?” He glanced up and down the empty street. I assumed the sole vehicle parked across from the restaurant was his.

“That’s my ride.” I gestured to the beat-up mountain bike leaning against the wall.

He glared at the bike like it’d somehow offended him, then planted his feet wide and stared me down. “Absolutely not.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He strode to my bike, picked it up as if it were made of twigs, and unceremoniously dumped it into the bed of his ginormous pickup.

“Hey!” I stormed after him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“Get in the truck.”

“I told you I’m fine?—”

He spun fast and leaned down so we were eye to eye. “And I told you to get in the truck, Hope.”

I froze at the sound of my name on his lips, then narrowed my eyes. “I never told you my name.” It was definitely the first time he’d called me something other than Gatita.

Grim straightened to his full height. “Sure you did.”

“No. I did not.”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

“You shithead.” I lunged to shove him, but he leapt out of the way. “You went through my things while I was unconscious, didn’t you?”

“You would’ve done the same.”

“No, I wouldn’t, because I have respect and decency. You might want to Google what they mean.”

He made an irritated face like I was the one being unreasonable. “We don’t have all night. Get in the truck.”

“No.” I balled my hands into fists. Grim’s jaw tensed as though no one had ever had the audacity to say that to him before. Since he looked like he could dismember people with his bare hands, maybe no one ever had. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“You want a choice? How about this? You can either get in the truck, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and give you the same treatment as that death trap of a bike. Your pick. For the record, I’m really hoping you’ll go with the second option.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me and find out.”

My eye spasmed. My heart palpitated. I was pretty certain my soaring blood pressure was about to tear open several of my arteries.

“You were out cold barely ten minutes ago,” Grim added. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to ride a shitty bike along dark roads when your head is probably still pounding?”

I wasn’t sure if he was more annoying when being an asshole or when making sound arguments that almost implied he cared about my safety.

I massaged my temple, letting go of some of my anger. This guy was a master at pushing my buttons, and I had a feeling that seeing me all worked up gave him an unhealthy amount of enjoyment. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Vaughn Decker.” He opened the passenger door and glared at me. “Now get in the goddamn truck before I have the absolute pleasure of manhandling your ungrateful ass in there.”

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