My husband versus at least four men before my ass slides off the desk and joins in on the fun.
My fist lands into the back of the head of some short dude who appears to weigh less than me. He bows forward before I hit him again, hoping I hit a spot that counts him out of the fight so I can head to someone else.
However, I’m swooped up in the next second, feet hanging off the ground as someone lifts and pulls me away.
My heel connects with a shin bone, but it does nothing to give me slack.
Thrusting my head back, I slam into whoever’s chin, and I’m rewarded with a sharp exhale through his teeth.
I’m immediately dropped to my feet before I’m spun around and come face-to-face with the big dude from earlier with all the tattoos and mean muscle.
“Stopbeing a motherfuckin’ bitch,” he roars out, clutching my biceps with inflamed annoyance. The pads of his fingers are going to leave a bruise, but I’m not listening enough to care.
“Fuckoff.” I slam my foot into his, but fuck this guy, he’s just as big as Levi, if not a tad bigger.
Together, they’d both have push-up competitions and weight-offs or whatever. The fuck do I know about working out?
“Do you want todie?” he leers through clenched teeth. “Settle the hell down.”
Is he for real?
“Right,” I scoff haughtily because he’s not going to coo me into thinking he has my best interest at heart right now. “Because I’m going to chill out with the guy who fuckin’ kidnapped me in the middle of thewoods.”
“You’re being fuckin’ dramatic?—”
“Hey,” another male voice cuts in. “He’s ready.”
I still feel the scuffling of feet and the grunts of men as I steal a glimpse over my shoulder, locating Ozzy still going at it with three dudes.
“Let him go,” I order through clenched teeth. “You don’t need him.”
“We don’t make the rules,” is the answer I get before I’m turned around and shoved in the direction of the door.
My focus is locked on Ozzy as he plows into some guy’s face, and then mimics those actions to another.
But when I make it another foot toward the exit, he’s on me like flies on shit.
In the most romantic as fuck way.
Somehow getting between all three guys, Ozzy is at my side in seconds before he’s yanking me away and plowing his fists into the delusional nutcase who helped get me down here in the first place.
Dumbass.
If he didn’t learn before when Ozzy and I were double-teaming him earlier, we’re not going quietly.
And we sure as hell aren’t taking any orders from people we don’t know.
“Hold on, Romeo,” the second man’s voice coos before the hammer of a gun clicks through the space. “You hit him again, I’m putting you down.”
“Fuckin’ cocksuckin’bitch,” Passenger Prick complains, running his tatted fingers along his jawline. “You hit me again, and I’mbreakingsomething on you.”
I’m not surprised when Ozzy doesn’t test out the theory, but he keeps extremely close to me. So close our biceps brush against each other’s, and my stupid brain locks faithfully to that.
“Now, Romeo,” dude number two emits, earning my attention. He’s new; I’ve never seen him before, but he’s cool and collected like he has this scenario all figured out. “We’re taking her for a minute?—”
Ozzy stands in front of me, pushing the idea out the window.
“Relax, my guy. She’ll be fine.”
