Page 19 of Biker's Prisoner: Property of Bucky

Despite my certainty that I have thrown Zayna off with my logic, she just sounds disappointed. “You are such a sicko.”

“Huh?” What the hell did I say that made me a sicko? I push my tongue along the inside of my mouth, thrusting down all my irritation with her.

“Listen to me and stop trying to win the argument,” Zayna says.

Win the argument? I’m not trying–

Zayna claps her hand in front of my face. Startling my ass.

“Hey!” she yells. “I can already see your ass thinking of your next comeback.”

Heat warms my ears. Did this woman just yell at me? Part of me wants to smack her across the damn face, but… I’m fascinated that she feels comfortable clapping and yelling at me. So I’ll give her a minute.

“I’m listening.”

Her little display of aggression is truly out of place but… I really want to see where the hell she’s going with this.

She spews out words like I just took my finger off an open wound. Zayna just hisses at me. “It’s weird. The way you look at me. The way you talk. The way you said dirt.”

“Christ. Now I can’t tell you when you stink to high hell?”

“STOP TRYING TO WIN THE ARGUMENT.”

She bursts out with pure anger. I don’t want to stifle it… I want it to grow. I push my tongue around the inside of my mouth. I’m going to get this woman naked – I know that. I canfeelthat. I know it’s dangerous, especially tonight. But her anger is fucking hot.

Don’t know why her yelling works on me. Honestly.

“Okay,” I whisper. “I’ll stop.”

She seems taken aback.Like she expected me to smack the shit out of her for that disrespectful ass yelling. I made a promise when I heard Eden’s first cries to control my violence – to be strong and protective, but to stay away from going too far. If I hadn’t been so high on violence, maybe Darlene would have survived. I don’t know if it’s guilt, exactly. It just could have gone another way.

“It’s an instinct, Ruger. You make me uncomfortable. You say things that are just… off.”

I don’t want to argue, but how can I resist defending myself? Zayna has unrealistic expectations.

“I never said the n-word in front of you,” I remind her, since I truly have been on my best behavior.

Angry bird face comes back. What the fuck did I say wrong!?

“But you have said it?!”

“You want me to lie?” I ask her calmly. Her eyes flicker with pure anger. Race gets those people so upset. But she asked me to stop arguing with her and… I’m curious aboutwhatshe’ll say. Tamiya would have clawed my eyes out by now. Every time I say something… they just want to fight.

“Right,” Zayna says, “When you were singing along to a rap song. Probably that Kanye and Jay-Z song aboutgentlemenin Paris?”

It’s hard not to laugh at Zayna trying to explain away my use of the n-word.

“No. When I was insulting someone for being black.”

She flinches again, although she does a much better job at hiding it this time.

“Exactly. I don’t want your Ku Klux Klan ass watching me bathe,” Zayna says. She seems very proud of herself. Even if I don’t understand what the fuck she’s saying.

“What the hell is the Ku Klux Klan?”

Okay. Angry bird face gone. This woman looks like she wants to crack my nuts between her back teeth.

“Stop fucking around.”

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