I step towards her, blocking her view with my body, and grip her arm.
“You don’t belong here,” I say low, almost pleading now.
Her eyes flash. “Too late. I’ve already seen it.”
“I need help,” Dean croaks from behind me. “Please.”
I roll my eyes, turning back on him, and he flinches. “Seriously, it’s a fucking flesh wound. A scar for you to remember.”
“Remember what?” he asks, his voice trembling.
Remi yanks the helmet off, her hair tumbling loose as she peers closer. “No means no,” she reads from his stomach. Her face pales, but there’s something burning under the surface as her eyes find mine. “Holy shit, you carved it into his skin.”
“You did what?” he screeches, almost breaking his neck to look at his bleeding stomach.
“Now we’re all up to date, let’s move forward,” I say, snatching up the coke brick and sticking it up my jacket. “You let your boss know I came by and I’m not happy with his rule breaking.”
“You can’t take my shit, man, they’ll kill me,” he cries.
Remi
Shadow turns to me with a stern expression. “I gave very clear instructions,” he says, his eyes burning with fury. He takes myhelmet and places it on the top of my head. “When I give an order, you follow it.” He bashes the top of the helmet, and it slips down over my face effortlessly.
I lift the visor. “I kept the helmet on . . . well, for the most part.”
He slips his hand in mine, threading our fingers together. The simple motion causes a fluttering in my stomach, and I fight my smile because this isn’t the time to swoon over the grumpy biker.
“Stay on the bike,” he repeats. “That’s what I said.”
His strides are long, and I run to keep up. “Will they really kill him?” I ask, lowering my voice as we pass the security guard.
“Do you care?” Shadow demands.
We step out into the fresh air. “Well, I haven’t really thought about it.”
“He put his hands on you,” he reminds me, slowing as we get to the bike. “Get on,” he barks.
I watch as he slides his leg over and grips the handlebars, staring straight ahead while waiting for me to follow his order. “You’re angry,” I state.
“Very.” He grates the word out.
“Should you drive when you’re this mad?”
He inhales deeply, like he’s trying to gain some kind of control over his anger. “Remi, get on the bike.”
“It’s just, you took so long, and I was getting hungry . . .” I trail off when he finally glares in my direction. His patience is wearing thin, so I slide onto the bike behind him, careful not to get too close.
He pushes his own helmet on and then reaches his hands back, gripping me behind the knees and pulling me closer. I can’t help the smile as he then grabs my arms and pulls them around his waist tightly.
“You really didn’t have to do that for me,” I murmur, glancing back at the warehouse.
“He shouldn’t have touched you,” he says, his voice startling me through the helmet.
He starts the bike and rolls out into traffic.
“Will he call the police?”
“And say what? That he attacked you, so I gave him a few scratches?”
