"Wallet?" Chaos's voice sharpens. "With your ID?"
My stomach drops. "Yes."
The men all exchange pointed looks.
The room spins slightly. If they grabbed my wallet, it’s possible they know where to find me. My name, my face, my address.
My breathing starts coming in short, sharp pants. The walls feel like they're closing in. Is this how I end? Murdered by cartel thugs because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Chaos moves faster than I expect for such a big man, sitting beside me on the couch.
"Hey. Look at me." He tips my chin up with his free hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Calm down. Breathe. You’re going to hyperventilate."
Okay. Okay. I just nod. Maybe they don’t have my wallet. Maybe it’s still lying in that alley with my phone and keys.
“Look at me,” Chaos says, still holding my chin. His eyes flash with a calming strength. "I need to talk privately with my brothers.” His thumb strokes over my cheekbone and then down over my lower lip. The intensity in his gaze sparks heat between my thighs. “You’ll be okay here.”
I want to tell him that no, no, I won’t. That I can't bear to be alone right now, but I already feel like a wimpy coward among these tough guys. So again, I just nod, not trusting my voice.
He straightens and heads toward the exit. At the door, just before he disappears into the hallway, he turns back to me. Thecorner of his mouth curls up slightly into an almost-half-smile that flutters my insides because I know it’s meant to soothe me.
“Sit tight, sweetheart.”
And then I'm alone, surrounded by the faint scent of leather and the overpowering stink of nasty, rotting garbage.
Chapter 4
Chaos
Chapter 5
Rowan
My hands tremble. I press them against my thighs, trying to stop the shaking that seems to have taken permanent residence in my bones. The leather couch beneath me creaks with every slight movement, and I'm acutely aware that I'm probably leaving garbage stench embedded in the cushions. God, I’m absolutely revolting.
But Chaos didn't seem to mind when he held me. When he pressed my face against his chest and stroked my hair like I was something precious instead of trash he literally pulled from a dumpster.
The memory sets off butterflies in my stomach. The way his massive frame enveloped me making me feel safe and protected. How his voice dropped to a gentle rumble when he spoke to me, so different from the commanding authority he used with his brothers.
I touch my lips, still feeling the phantom pressure of his thumb when he tilted my chin up to look at him. Those piercing eyes looked at me as though he could read every secret I've ever buried. And the way he positioned himself between me and the door, like a shield...
What's wrong with me? I just witnessed two murders, and I'm sitting here getting all swoony over a motorcycle club president who's probably old enough to be my father. Well, maybe not my father, but definitely my much older brother. He's dangerous. Violent. The kind of man my grandmother would've warned me to stay far away from.
But he was so careful with me when he could've been rough. The contrast between his obvious capacity for violence and the tenderness he showed me makes my insides flip-flop.
I press my palms to my burning cheeks. This is insane. I'm having inappropriate thoughts about a stranger who runs an underground fight club and probably participates in god only knows what other illegal activities. A man who lives in a world of violence and crime that I want no part of.
The door opens, interrupting my spiraling thoughts. I expect to see Chaos's broad frame filling the doorway, but instead, it's one of the other guys, Fiend. He's got shoulder-length blonde hair and sharp brown eyes that assess me with cool calculation.
"Time to go," he says, jerking his chin toward the exit.
My heart plummets. "Go?"
“Chaos’s orders." His voice is matter-of-fact, but not exactly unkind. "You need to scram.”
Of course. Of course they want me gone. I told them everything I saw, everything that might help them figure out who killed their friends. I served my purpose. They're done with me now.
Why would they want me to stay? I'm nobody—just some dummy who witnessed the murder of their friends. They probably can't wait to get the smelly girl out of their space.
