Page 86 of Hunter

That left me stuck in the center of an empty warehouse, at the end of a thirty-foot chain from the third story roof, near no potential tools and no feasible escape route.

Fucking fantabulous.

Well, at least Jax had arrived when he had. Now I could be sure the boys had gotten to Adair and taken him to safety.

Probably to Hunter.

Or maybe he didn’t know yet. He had taken off in such a rage I wouldn’t be surprised if he had gotten on his bike and headed south. He would be halfway to Mexico by now, judging by the evening light streaming through the single broken skylight. It was possible that a day or so could have passed, but I doubted it, considering the last traces of my twenty-four-hour perfume still lingered in a feeble attempt to battle my horrible body odor.

I sighed. On to plan thirty-nine, then. It would more than likely be a dud, too. Then I would move on to plan forty, because it was the only thing keeping the fear at bay. If it meant coming up with a thousand plans, even if they all failed, I would keep going. The second I caught up in my fear, I would lose.

My father came to mind then. When I had feared the monster under the bed, or failing my driving test, or asking a boy to prom, he had sat me down and quoted the same verse to me.

“Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me,” I whispered out loud.

Though he had talked of God, I had always thought of the words representing my father. He had been first and foremost a servant of the Lord, but that didn’t mean his duties as a father had meant any less to him. After he had passed away, I couldn’t help thinking it was my father looking down on me; my father guiding me through my fears.

It made me wonder what he would think of my situation now. I always had been a wayward daughter.

Even so, the passage was comforting, calming, and it cleared my mind. I took a deep breath, jingled my chains, and pushed down the fear. Then I closed my eyes and breathed.

I will be okay.

“Psalm 23:4.”

My eyes snapped open, and I jerked my head around to look behind me.

A square of light cut through the dimness of the warehouse. The voice had come from the figure cutting through it, his mass solid, broad, and tall. He stood there for a moment, hidden by the light, before he began to walk forward.

As the sun drew back, it revealed a person. A person who made my blood freeze. He was all muscles, scars, and sharp features. He had long, shaggy gray hair; a face aged with war and violence; and eyes like rusted metal that narrowed on me in a way that made me feel like the smallest, most fragile thing in the world.

As he walked toward me, two more burly men came through the door and closed it behind them. Then they stood beside it in silence.

I tried not to feel the fear, but the second the man stopped in front of me, close enough to reach, it all bubbled to the surface.

“Please,” I whispered, my knees growing weak. He was so tall, towering, standing to his full height to look down at me like the pitiful creature I was. Every instinct made me cower before him.

I had read the books, known thousands of antagonists, seen hundreds of criminals on the TV … But this man, he had a dark magnetism and a streak of violence that resounded deep within my primitive instincts. He was bad to the soul.

“Don’t beg. It’s pathetic,” he stated, his voice slightly gruff and cold. “For a preacher’s daughter, I thought you’d have more of that righteous spunk.”

I pulled back on the chains as he began to circle around me. I made sure to put the most distance between us, but it was like a cat circling a paralyzed mouse. I was cat chow. I knew it. He knew it. There was nothing I could do about it.

He reached forward, and I flinched.

“Don’t worry; I won’t hurt you,” he assured me as if my reaction almost bored him. “You’re the type that, the more I hit, the more stubborn you get.” With his hand still poised above my head, he looked down and said in a calm whisper, “Unless I’m wrong?”

I felt my heart race like a jackhammer as I shook my head.

“Thought so.” He continued the path with his hands on the chains above my head and gave them a small tug. “I thought you would have broken out of these by now.” He analyzed the chains with thin eyes. “You’re supposed to be smart, aren’t you?”

He didn’t even speak like a biker. He was too articulate, too careful with his words.

“If I were, I probably wouldn’t be here,” I whispered. I didn’t mean to say that, but the words were true. I might have been naturally smart, but I obviously didn’t know how to use it.

“No, you wouldn’t be.” He didn’t seem fazed by my reply. Any other person in my situation would be in a puddle of their own piss by now. Not that I was far off. “But humans are fools, especially young girls like you. Falling in love, chasing boys,earningtrust.”

“Trust?” I asked, catching the emphasis he had placed. I could hear it all click into place. “As in, being entrusted with information that could bring your entire club down? That’s what this is about, isn’t it? The information?”

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