Page 15 of Shattered Skull

“This is my side of town,” I lied.

He stopped and spun around. His wide shoulders were blocking my view of The Strip behind him.

“Liar,” he growled.

“I’m not lying.”

He moved toward me, his form growing broader and taller the closer he got. The chain hanging from his pocket jingled, and his heavy boots crunched the gravel with each step he took. His eyes, while super bright green and almost glowing, somehow managed to be lifeless. They were dull without a single drop of emotion.

“You are, and you wanna know how I know?”

I held my head high even though I was shivering. “How?”

He tugged the handkerchief down, exposing his thick lips. My eyes caught on the set of silver studs under his bottom lip on each side. He sucked his bottom lip in and released it with a pop. The side of his mouth lifted in a grin that was anything but happy.

“Because you’re fresh meat for the hunt with your loose Mom jeans and your shirt that’s two sizes too big. Look around you, Cherry Girl. You’re the only virgin in a five-mile radius who’s over seventeen. I can smell your innocence like a dead skunk on the side of a country road. You’re not from around here, and everybody fucking knows it.”

Tears rushed to my eyes, but I blinked them away. I cried for no one—especially not some biker asshole with a bad attitude.

“I swear if you fucking cry, I’m going to lose my shit,” he snapped.

As if he hadn’t already.

“You’re an asshole,” I muttered, having never spoken to another human being like that in my life.

His brows lifted, his eyes were wide with shock. “What did you just call me?”

“You heard me.” I swallowed, feeling as if I were seconds away from tossing up my lunch.

Panic clawed at my chest like the wild animal that she was, threatening to rush up my throat and choke me to death. My heart was crazy in my chest, pushing too much blood through my veins and making me feel dizzy.

I was trembling, and I hoped he didn’t see that.

Again, he grinned down at me with no humor, but this time there was a hint of something in his green gaze.

Pride?

“I’ll let that slide since you’re new around here, and you don’t know the rules, but let me fill you in,” he said, pushing into my space until my face was brushing against his hard chest.

He smelled like the engines around me. All gasoline and motor oil. He breathed down at me, his eyes darkening, and his nostrils flaring with each pull of air. “Nobody talks to me that way. Not even some high and mighty daddy’s girl with too much money and not enough tits.”

His words burned because he was right. I was a daddy’s girl, except my dad was no more. I clenched my eyes closed, and even though I tried to fight them, a single tear slipped down my cheek.

“Are you crying?” he asked, appalled. His eyes grew wide in disgust. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He snorted. “Poor little rich girl can’t handle the big bad truth.”

This time I shook with hurt and anger. He had brought my father into the conversation, and I wasn’t okay with that. Say what you wanted about me, but never mention my father. I gritted my teeth and debated turning away from him, but before I could, words I had never said leaped from my lips.

“Fuck you,” I growled, anger like I hadn’t experienced in my life bubbling over.

He chuckled, obviously not affected by my hateful words. “I wouldn’t fuck you with a two-dollar dildo.”

Then he was gone, taking my next breath with him. My stomach ached from his vile words, but the panic which had been simmering against my ribs was gone.

It was strange.

I was shaking, my heart beating so hard it hurt, but it was anger running the show, not panic.

I turned away, blinking away the tears and begging them to obey. It was then I saw my brother again. He was leaning against his car with his arm draped over the shoulder of a different blonde. He laughed at something the guy standing in front of him said, and then he reached out and took a joint from him. My eyes went wide when he put the joint to his lips and inhaled as if he had been getting high for years.

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