Then Mac stepped forward and calmly pinched my nose. My eyes widened, and I stared at him, my brown eyes meetinghis blue. It was a battle of wills as he cut off my oxygen, and I refused to let go. But the swirling darkness behind my eyes made the decision for me, and I eventually let go of his brother, sucking in lungfuls of air.
Mac chuckled. “You good there, Dalton?”
Dalton swore some more, and I saw the blood running down his arm out of the corner of my eye.
“No, I’m not fucking good, man. Crazy chick bit me if you didn’t notice.”
I stomped on his foot, and this time, he wasn’t having it. His arms tightened around me just enough to make me lightheaded again, and he lifted me off the ground until my toes barely grazed the dirt.
Mac headed off, shaking his head, and Dalton went to follow him. He dragged me past Daniel’s blackened bike, the fire now put out. Daniel glared at me with murder in his eyes, the drunken haze burned away by the smoky remnants of his Harley. I smiled at him—albeit a slightly oxygen-deprived one, thanks to Dalton’s grip—and his face turned beet-red.
“Stop goading the guy, Vixen,” Mac said over his shoulder, and I wonder if he’s got eyes in the back of his head or something.
We come to a stop next to a massive red and black Indian that looks like it runs small children over for fun. He pulled out a small bundle of rope from one of the saddlebags, and I started struggling in Dalton’s arms.
“Abso-fucking-lutely not, you psychopaths!”
Mac turned to me, and Dalton’s chest vibrated with a chuckle. “Ah, come on, you look like the kinda girl who might like being tied up.”
I snapped at his arm again, but he was ready for it this time.
“You wish you would ever get the chance to find out, you overgrown Ken doll. And I don’t give a damn about being tied up—but I’m not leaving my bike.”
Mac and Dalton both paused, the former giving me a surprised look. “Your bike?”
I stoppedstruggling in Dalton’s arms. “That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
Dalton let go of me and stepped around so he could look at me, his face just as surprised as Mac’s.
“You got a bike? Sure it’s not your boyfriend’s?”
His eyes, a much lighter shade of blue compared to Mac’s, shone with humor. In a very mature move, I stuck my tongue out at him. Pointing behind me at my Triumph, I spoke slowly and deliberately, as if talking to children.
“Thatis my bike. Mine. I rode here. On my bike. Which I own. ‘Cos girls can ride too. And I amnotleaving it here.”
Mac looked at it, and then back at me. “Why? You afraid someone might set it on fire?” I frowned at him. “Fine. Dalton, get Jackson and a couple of others. You guys flank her, and I swear to God if you somehow manage to lose her… I’ll setyourbikes on fire.”
Dalton nodded and jogged off, leaving me alone with Mac. He turned and put the rope back in the bag, evidently deciding I wasn’t dumb enough to make a run for it while his back was turned.
I took the opportunity to look him over. A swirl of black ink peeked out of his jacket, and boy, I would be lying if I said he didn’t fill those blue jeans nicely. He turned back to me, and I acted like I wasn’t just ogling his ass seconds ago.
“Where are you taking me?”
He gave me a look that said I should already know the answer to that question, and I do. We were going to the Steel Saints’ clubhouse. That little voice of reason popped back into my head:shit, shit, shit. But I smiled at him, because he didn’t have a clue that they’d just let the fox into the hen house.
I’m in, baby.
Chapter 4
We pulled into a warehousearound midnight. I spent the entire ride stroking my self-confidence like a skittish cat.
Looking around, I took in the well-lit area. It was surprisingly clean, and “Steel Saints” was printed across the bay door. Other than that, there was nothing to mark what the warehouse was for, but I supposed those two words were warning enough not to come poking around asking questions. Everyone in Atlanta knew who the Saints were.
Dalton pulled in next to me, and I glanced over at him. His bike is a green Harley, about the size of Mac’s. Thinking of his brother’s massive Indian, I wondered if bike size was related to cock size. I grinned at my own joke, and accidentally giggled out loud, which elicited a funny look.
I scanned the warehouse as I followed dutifully behind Dalton, his buddies flanking me as Mac ordered. The entryway is a big open space, with a couple of dismantled bikes leaning on their kickstands in an area that I assumed is a makeshift garage for repairs and such. There was a pole in the back corner of the room, which I was sure wasn’t for supporting the roof, since it had a couple of couches placed around it. I curled my lip in distaste. A mini fridge nearby, and pictures lining one of the walls, completed the relatively boring space.
Dalton glanced over his shoulder at me. “Welcome to our humble abode.”
