I must admit, though: the smell of blood on his mouth, and his breath, turned me on, but I’ll be damned if I tell him that.
“Let’s get outta here, guys,” Alex says, then gestures at Colton. “That dead face of his is starting to get real unattractive, and I’msonot digging the vibes.”
“Yeah, let’s,” Dorran concurs, then takes off his leather jacket before moving behind me. “Raise your arms a little,” he tells me.
I shift my clutch from one hand to the other as he slides the sleeves of the jacket in through them. He then pulls it up and over my shoulders, and I wrap it snugly around my front. When he circles back to me, I raise my brows at him in silent question.
“It’s cold outside,” he says easily, then clears his throat. “And I wanted to see you wearing my jacket.” He looks me over with a burning gaze. “It looks better on you than it did on me,” he remarks, then winks at me before leading the crew and I out of the bathroom.
We pass through the crowd – now thicker than it was before – and exit the club. Once outside, we take a left and enter an alleyway parking area. There are buildings on either side of the expanse, with rusted bicycles chained to poles that are decorated with half-torn flyers and random phone numbers. The air in here is stale, and smells of smoke, piss, and something pungent I can’t exactly put my finger on.
Our footsteps echo against the quiet, and gravel crunches under our feet, amplifying the eerie silence around us a little too much.
A cat mewls somewhere, startling me. I swallow and stay close to Dorran as he leads the crew further into the alleyway, and release a relieved breath when I spot Jayce’s Jeep and Dorran’s Harley parked next to a graffiti wall on the far right.
“Dorran Ledger?” comes a voice from behind us, making us stop. We turn, and find 7 men standing before us, barricading the alley’s entrance. In our case, ouronlyexit.
Dorran steps forward, then places a hand on my hip and pushes me behind him. “Who’re you?” he assesses the men with calm calculation.
Jayce and Alex flank his left and right respectively, and Varsha comes to stand beside the former.
“Stay away from Cignette Adler,” one of the men says.
Dorran lets go of a surprised chuckle. “What the fuck kind of joke is this?”
“It’s awarning,” another guy states. “One we suggest you don’t take lightly.”
Dorran shakes his head. “You punks seriously think you can threatenme?” he sneers, and I notice his posture stiffening against his evidently building anger.
I suck in a breath and look over his shoulder. The crew seem just as confused by the strangers as I do, and rightfully so.
“You think my mom sent them?” I ask Dorran, then glance at the men again. “They don’t exactly seem like the kind of people she’d have any sort of association with, though.”
“After my threat to her, I don’t think Miranda has it in her to play tricks on me,” Dorran responds. “She knows I don’t take kindly to bullshit.”
The men fidget and look among each other – agitated.
Dorran sighs and spits the gum he was chewing, on the ground. “Are you morons going to do something, or should we leave?”
I make a sound in the back of my throat, while the crew simply laugh.
Goddamn psychos, all of them.
At Dorran’s question, the gang of 7 pull out a series of weapons from under the hoodies they’ve got on – knifes, sharp-edged knuckle rings, metal rods, and even a couple of guns.
My chest tightens in fear, and I quite literally can’t feel my legs.
“Nowwe’re talkin’,” Dorran says, excitement clear in his voice.
“It doesn’t have to come to this,” the guy in the middle – probably their leader or some shit – says. “Leave Cignette Adler here, and you can go without getting hurt.”
“Really?” There’s so much amusement in Dorran’s tone that it makes me smile a little.
“And what exactly will you do with her if I leave her here?”
“Deliver her to our client, of course.”
“And I’m assuming you won’t tell me who this client of yours is?” Dorran asks.
