The biker reaches me before I can move. His meaty hand clamps around my arm, the squeeze cutting off circulation until my fingers tingle. My vision tunnels, the club’s noise fading to a dull roar. My heart hammers so hard I can feel it in my throat. Everything in my body screamsrun, but my legs won’t obey.
“Looking for some fun, whore?”
His face crashes into my space, breath sour with beer and cigarettes. The stench curdles my stomach, dragging me straight back to nights I’ve spent years trying to bury.
Eric’s face flashes over this stranger’s. Same predatory gleam, same entitled hands. I’m twenty-four again, trapped in my own kitchen while my husband decides whether tonight ends with bruises or worse.
“Let me go.” My voice cracks.
Alessio’s head whips toward us, but he’s got his hands full restraining another biker. He can’t help me.
The asshole’s free hand claws at my ass, fingers digging in until pain shoots up my spine. I jerk back with a strangled sound, shame and fury tangling in my throat, but he only tightens his grip, eyes gleaming like he enjoys the struggle.
He lets go, only to draw his hand back, fingers curled, ready to smash it across my face.
I squeeze my eyes shut, jaw locking as I brace for the blow. My body remembers the snap of knuckles against skin, the hot sting that lingers long after. The same helpless terror floods through me, thick and paralyzing.
But the impact never comes.
A stranger appears out of nowhere, hauling the biker away from me. His fist connects with the guy’s face with a satisfying crunch, and the biker howls as blood pours from his broken nose.
I stumble backward into the table where my would-be customer was sitting, but he’s long gone.
Within minutes, it’s over. Two bikers are unconscious on the floor, one is clutching a clearly broken wrist, and the fourth is backing toward the door with blood streaming from his nose. Alessio hasn’t even loosened his tie. Jesus, what kind of man moves like that?
My hands are shaking. The adrenaline that kept me frozen during the fight is crashing now, leaving me dizzy and nauseous. I press my palms against the table to steady myself, trying to process what just happened.
My rescuer comes back, genuine concern in his dark eyes. “You okay?”
“Matteo.” Alessio’s voice cuts through the air before I can answer. “Go outside. Make sure those bastards actually leave.”
Matteo nods and heads for the door without question. Then Alessio’s standing in front of me, and he looks furious.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” His voice is raw, like my stillness offended him personally. “You just stood there, like you were waiting for him to hurt you.”
I blink at him. After everything that just happened, he’s mad atme?
“You could have gotten seriously hurt.” His gaze, furious and protective, travels over my body, checking for injuries like he has the right to.
“But I didn’t,” I manage. “I’m fine.”
He shakes his head, exasperated. “What is it with you and getting in trouble with dangerous meat heads?”
The off-hand comment stops me cold. My eyes widen as the meaning sinks in.
He’s been lying to me this whole time.
“Youdoremember me.”
12
ALESSIO
Fuck.
I didn’t mean to let that slip. I was so damn frustrated watching her freeze up while those Devil’s Brood assholes tore the place apart.
When I saw that biker grab her, every instinct I have screamed to rip his throat out. But I was too far away, hands full of my own problems. If she’d just run backstage like everyone else with half a brain...
