How can I fix this? Is she going to be okay? Fuck, I’m still panicking.
“Raven?” I mutter, the sound a desperate plea, although she can’t hear me. I give her a careful shake, feeling like a fucking gorilla with a tiny, perfect princess in my clutches. My hands shift to her waist, trying to carefully turn her to face me as her body bends forward, all dead weight.
“I swear I will never forgive myself if I somehow hurt you. It wasn’t the plan, I promise; I was just trying to prove a point about how dangerous it is out here for you to be alone. How easily you could be snatched. Fuck,my baby cakes, please be okay!”
I’m so busy talking to myself and trying not to hurt her even more that when I eventually get her body shifted, facing me, I’m stunned in utter shock as her arm lifts and a gun barrel is firmly pressed to the front of my forehead.
Ho-ly shitballs!
My eyes flick up, noting her steady finger resting on the trigger. One wrong twitch and I’m taking a bullet to my brain. Instead of a fucking candy ass, I’ll be the headless dipshit who crossed the wrong Latina.
Her caramel irises meet mine, a fiery storm blazing in their dark depths as she glowers. “You thought you could sneak up on me and I would be too weak to react?”
I hold my breath a few beats, remaining wide-eyed and silent until she moves her finger to rest on the side of the trigger and not directly on it, ready to blow my ass into the next county and not in the good sort of way. I can’t believe I ever thought of her as a damsel in distress. The jokes clearly on me, as she was waiting for someone to make the wrong move because she already had a game plan in play. What’s that saying, you have to be ten percent smarter than the object you’re working on? Well, she’s obviously a helluva lot more than ten percent smarter than my ass.
With a sigh of relief, I offer a small smile. “Hi, chicken nugget. Looks like I fucked up, huh?”
Chapter Eight
Raven
“You thought you could sneak up on me and I would be too weak to react?” I repeat my question, staring at him expectantly. I may’ve fucked the oversized biker, but he’s an idiot to think I won’t defend myself if he grabs me like he did from behind. Who does that sort of thing to a deaf woman? I’ll tell you who, someone wanting a lead hole to decorate their body.
“I—” he begins and trails off. He catches me by surprise once more when his hands leave my hips to raise. He holds them out in surrender at first, then, slowly, as he’s not had enough practice, begins to sign as he speaks.
“I saw you walking. I was worried about you being alone and tried to prove a point on your safety.”
“And?” Both of my brows are raised. This is Texas, most of the women I know are smart enough to conceal carry, especiallyif they’re going somewhere alone. He should’ve considered I’d be locked and loaded for this specific scenario.
He continues to speak and sign at the same time, slowly, but I appreciate the consideration he’s offering me.
“You called me on it. Put me in my place. I’m sorry, beautiful, if I scared you. You had me worrying about your safety, but I had no idea you are packing and know how to use that nine.”
My hand is steady, and I don’t blink as I nod. “It’s small, but gets the job done. You think you’re the first man to sneak up on me?” I question, and his face turns stony. Men always believe small women are easy targets, and I refuse to give any of them the satisfaction of gaining the upper hand with me. I will bury someone before I allow them to rape, traffic, or kill me.
“Give me a name.” His words are growled; I don’t doubt it for a second by the way his lips move with them, vibrating his throat and chest.
Threateningly.
Promising a retribution I’m sure I can’t imagine if he’s given the chance. It's sexy, even if I am annoyed with him right now.
“I will protect you for as long as you allow me to,” he swears with such sincerity that I don’t doubt it in the slightest.
“Why are you looking for me?” I ask instead, ready to move us past this moment and toward the future.
“I don’t want any of them.” He gestures over his shoulder toward the club and then begins to speak and sign again. Is it weird how I kinda love it when he communicates by ASL?
“I only want you. I’m yours, no one else. Want to come to my clubhouse with me? We’re chilling with some brothers from out of town.”
“You need dancers for your party?”
He nods. “I also want you there. For me.”
“To fuck?”
He shrugs. “Or to just kick back and hang out by my side. Have a drink, you know, relax.”
I release a sigh, putting my Smith & Wesson Equalizer back into my belly band. I’m petite enough, I can wear the small harness up front with a baggy shirt, and most people don’t notice my pistol. Plus, men always seem to grab too high, so they never feel it, giving me an easy opportunity to pull it and surprise them. I’ve had to do it before, on more than one occasion. I could cower and be scared, but I refuse to keep being a victim of life.
