Page 25 of Taming the Bad Boy

“Get. Your. Hands. Off her.”

My heart leaps as the words march from Slate’s lips. Did he really just say what I think he said? Or am I imagining things?

Slate stops beside me, his chest heaving, fists clenched at his sides. He looks ready to explode, and Viper’s men can see it too as they close in around him.

“Relax, brother,” Viper sneers. “You knew what was gonna happen–”

“I’m not gonna say it again,” Slate growls.

The air is tense. What is happening? The entire clubhouse was just cheering for Slate, and now he’s acting like he wants to rescue me? Nothing makes sense.

Slate pulls a knife from his pocket and shows it to Viper. “You let her go or lose your hand. Your choice.”

The grips on my limbs loosen as Viper’s men get ready for trouble. The moment draws out, long and torturous, and then finally, Slate meets my eyes with his, and I see it.

Love.

Hedoeslove me.

I don’t even get a chance to smile before all hell breaks loose. Viper leaps up, and Slate’s fist crashes into his jaw, sending him sprawling backwards, toppling a table. The whole bar erupts into chaos.

“Ivy, get out of here!” Slate shouts, ripping through the room, slashing through men with his knife, destroying anything and anyone around him. “Now!”

I want to stay. Help him. But what could I possibly do? Maybe if I had a gun or pepper spray, but these men are twice my size at least.

Someone grabs me from behind, iron arms clamping around my waist, lifting me into the air. I scream and snap my head back, breaking someone’s nose. He groans and falls, taking me with him.

I fight, claw, kick myself free of his grasp and leap to my feet, my eyes locking on to the storm of lethality that is Slate.

There’s blood everywhere. Men are closing in on him from all sides.

I have to get help, and fast.

I whirl and race for the door, darting around a man who tries to grab me up. I fall and roll as I spill outside and quickly reach for my phone to call the police. But that’s when I see the pair of boots in front of me.

Saxon reaches a hand down and helps me to my feet, the entire gang of Heartless Bastards behind him, ready for war.

“You’re here!” I blurt out, confused. “But you said–”

“I couldn’t let you get yourself killed,” he says, gripping a steel pipe. “How would we do business with Frank after that?”

I open my mouth to speak, but Saxon smirks and pushes past me, followed by the rest of the Bastards. I turn and watch as he tears the door open and he and the boys rush headfirst into the chaos.

That’s when my legs give out from under me.

I fall on my ass in the dirt, my head spinning and vision blurred. I can’t even process what’s happening, how I ended up here or why.

But I guess time will tell. And after this is all over, Slate will have some serious explaining to do.

If he even survives.

9

SLATE

Pain tearsthrough me with every breath, sawing at my lungs, splintering in my ribs, and the countless cuts and bruises that cover my body are slowly grinding me down. I’m gonna pass out soon if I don’t stop the bleeding.

I look down at Ivy, still sitting in the dirt, my hand out to her.

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