Page 15 of Walking Red Flag

I idly wondered if it was hers as I said, “Honey, what’s your lock code?”

She didn’t answer.

She did squeeze me tighter, and it was then that I noticed that her arms couldn’t fit fully around my chest.

Covering her hands with one of my own, I hit the emergency number on the side screen and hit go.

“Milena,” a man’s smooth voice said. “Are you awake enough for visitors? We just pulled onto I30.”

I wondered who it was that I’d just called. “Not Milena. This is Cutter Clayborne. I just pulled your woman off a bike, and she’s fuckin’ terrified. Can you come get her? I don’t think any more riding is going to be a good thing for her right now.”

There was a long moment of silence before the man said, very carefully, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

The shaking woman continued to chatter her teeth behind me, and the rest of my brothers talked softly all around me, casting sidelong glances at the girl that had yet to loosen her grip.

“Seriously, if you don’t move your fuckin’ ass right now and let me get to her, I’ll…”

“You’ll what, tit bag?” Hagrid asked. “You’re not getting through all of us. So, unless you really are stupid enough to try, go back to your bike and ride away.”

Hagrid had just finished the last of his taunting words when an armored black Mercedes rolled to a stop directly behind us.

I didn’t bother to ask how the man knew where we were.

Likely, he had a tracker on the woman’s phone.

“Honey,” I said. “The man who is in your emergency contact is here.”

Still no movement—well, besides the shaking.

The man arrived like an avenging angel.

He pushed through the bikers like he had not a single care in the world and walked right up to the woman in my arms.

I tried to release her, but she wasn’t going without any coaxing.

“Go Go, darlin’,” I said. “You gotta let go.”

“No,” she moaned.

“Milena.”

The man looked ready to rip her from my body.

I held my hands up to let him know I wasn’t holding her there.

He looked at me, studying my face, before saying, “Milena, sister. I have my car here…”

“Of fuckin’ course you’d show up,” the punk from the crotch rocket said. “She always calls her big brother to protect her from thin air.”

The “big brother” turned only his head and pinned the prick with a stare. “If you ever show your face in front of me again, I’ll peel your skin off your face and shove it up your ass.”

As threats went, that one was pretty damn good.

If I were a lesser man, like the punk behind me, I would’ve been definitely rethinking my words.

But he snorted. “You don’t scare me, Semyonov.”

That name had my mind screeching to a halt.

---