Page 2 of Hell of a Mess
The toe of a black combat boot appeared in front of me as if it had come out of thin air. Not a single sound betraying its arrival.If I could move, I’d put all those years of running around the perimeter of my father’s property to good use. But since I was battling for every ounce of oxygen I took in, that wasn’t going to happen. I was stuck.
“What the fuck?” the deep voice swore.
“Jesus,” the other man said in a harsh whisper. “Do you recognize her? Is she one of the dancers?”
The man closest to me bent down, and although I knew I should keep my gaze averted, it lifted to see who had found me. I wasn’t one to be affected by looks. I’d seen the ugly behind too many handsome faces. But this one…it wasn’t like any other I’d seen.
“No,” he said as he stared at me. “She’s not.”
His eyes drifted down my face to survey the rest of me, and when he saw my wrist that I was holding close to my chest, his nostrils flared. “Get the truck.” His words sounded like an order.
“Why?”
He leaned closer to me. “Anything else broken?” he asked, and I realized he was speaking to me.
I should say nothing. Remain mute, and maybe he would leave. But I nodded. “Yes,” I replied in a strangled whisper.
His jaw clenched. “Where?”
Tell him you’re fine. Send him on his way. Arun will kill them. Or have them killed.
“Ribs, I think,” I admitted.
“Who did this?” The ferocity in his tone made me jerk.
I shook my head and tried to move back on instinct, but all it did was make me whimper in my attempt.
“Fuck,” he muttered, then started to stand back up.
He was leaving. That was for the best. Even if I wanted to ask him not to. I didn’t know the man. He wasn’t someone I could trust. I was better alone. If he left, then they were safe.
“I’m taking her home,” he said.
Panic returned, laced with a fight I thought had gone out of me. I wasn’t going back to my father’s house. Not like this.
“No,” I gasped.
I couldn’t go home. My father would blame me. I’d be punished further.
His eyes narrowed as he stared down at me. “You want to stay here?”
I nodded. “Can’t”—I struggled to speak—“go…home.”
He didn’t realize I’d flown here. My home was in Texas. He’d be taking me to an airport.
The understanding in his eyes as I gasped the last word gave me a small smidgen of relief.
“My home,” he said. “You need a doctor, and I can get that for you.”
A doctor? At his home?
My eyes drifted down over his jeans, pearl-snap shirt, and leather jacket. He didn’t dress like a man who could get a doctor to his home. Lifting my gaze back up—taking in the short beard that didn’t mask his chiseled jaw, messy dark blonde hair that was pulled back in some knot or bun, and the tattoo that was peeking out from the neckline of his shirt—I realized he didn’t look anything like the men I knew that came to this place. The price tag on the membership alone was steep.
“You’re taking her there without talking to Linc?” the other guy asked him.
A smirk touched his lips, causing his eyes to lighten slightly from the dark, intense gleam they’d had since he’d knelt down in front of me. “Since when do I ask Linc shit? Go get the truck, bring it closer. She’s in pain, and the less I have to move her, the better.”
My gaze swung toward the road that I’d planned to eventually escape to. Was that even something I’d be able to do? I couldn’t move my body an inch without crying out. But leaving with astranger who looked like some sexy biker who wasn’t on the right side of the law didn’t sound smart.
