Page 3 of Sinful Skulls
When I spot a sleek-looking car that’s unoccupied, I head that way. I stop by the back door. “Um, you can just set my stuff on the ground. I’ll get it from here. Thank you.”
“She speaks too,” he teases as he carefully sets everything down. “It’s getting dark. I’ll wait until you get everything loaded.” His gaze scans the parking lot, looking for threats.Maybe he should look in the mirror, because every person we’ve passed has given him a wide berth.
“Oh, I’ll be okay. I wouldn’t want to keep you.”
He shrugs. “I ain’t got nothing else to do.”
When I don’t move, he finally gets the hint. “Alright. If you’re sure you’re good, I’ll leave you to it.”
He steps away, and I lean against the car, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Hey bitch! Get the fuck off my car!” a man yells, hurrying across the parking lot toward me.
I stand up straight as he rushes past the biker.
“I’m sorry,” I begin to say, bending over to pick up my stuff.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he continues to yell at me.
Before I know what’s happening, my hair is being pulled and I’m being dragged across the parking lot. I lose my balance and fall to my ass. I try reaching back to grab his hands. He’s going to rip my hair out!
Suddenly, he releases me, and I drop to the ground flat on my back. A sickening crack sounds, and the man screams. I roll my head to the side as he lands with a thud beside me. Blood gushes out of his nose as he covers his face with his hands.
“You broke my nose!” he howls.
A large shadow looms over us. “Oh yeah? I guess we’re not done then, because I was going for your skull.”
My eyes widen, and I quickly sit up, rubbing the back of my head. “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”
The biker holds his hand out for me to take, still glaring at the man beside me. “You’re not the one who needs to apologize.”
He helps me to my feet.
“Tell her you’re sorry, and I might let you live.”
The man’s eyes widen.
“Oh no, that’s not …”
The biker kicks the guy in the leg, interrupting my thoughts.
“Say it. You’ve got exactly three seconds.”
The man mumbles a quick apology as his hands rapidly fill with blood. He sits up and coughs, spitting red all over the pavement.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again, letting the biker gently tug me back to the car.
He starts picking up my thingsagain, keeping his eyes on me as he does. I’m still looking back at the poor man who now has a broken nose because of me.
“I take it this isn’t your car?”
My gaze snaps to his. “I’m so sorry. I was just scared and …”
The scowl on his face softens. “I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. Let’s just get you home. Okay?”
I nod, tears stinging my eyes. I feel so bad about this entire situation.
He follows me to my apartment, which is just across the road. This time I’m not the only one who’s quiet. I don’t like it. I’d rather hear him talk.
