Squeezing my hands between us, I clutch them together and shove them up and out, managing to dislodge one of his hands from my neck, and I roll, gasping as he scrambles to get a hold of me again.
Tears stream from my eyes as I try to claw my way across the tiles, only managing to get a little way before he’s on my back, his feet shoving between my legs, trying to pry them open.
“No! NO!” I scream, knowing I’d rather die that be raped again. “GET OFF ME!” I scream, reaching for my dangling leathers, needing to get to my phone.
My head gets shoved hard to the tiles, the fucker’s hand pressing down, his body weight against it as he holds me in place, and I feel cold air hit my lower back as my dress gets shoved up.
“NO!” I scream before a loud crash rips through the air, and the thud of heavy boots charges in.
With my head turned to that side, I see the boots stop just beside me, and a sob gets stuck in my throat.
“Get. The. Fuck. Off. My. Wife.”
My sob releases as the relief of hearing Ringo’s voice washes over me, and the weight pressing into my back disappears as my husband steps forward.
I scramble quickly across the tiles to my leathers, and tug them to the floor next to me as I look up to see Ringo’s hand around Ian’s throat as he pins him to the wall, his brutal fist slamming into his face, over and over.
My hands tremble as I pick up my phone and open it, clicking straight into the app that Lewy insisted the club start using, and I hit the big red button.
An alert sound rings from Ringo’s back pocket, and I know the app is doing what it’s designed for, sending an alert to the club with my location so they can get the nearest members or associates to me as fast as possible.
It’s not just for me, but for every member, every Doxy, and their families.
Stepping back from the wall, Ringo drags Ian with him, blood smearing Ian’s face as he chokes and struggles to breathe.
“No one touches what’s mine!” Ringo snarls into Ian’s face. “The fucking penalty is death, motherfucker!”
My monstrous husband fists Ian’s hair, and slams his forehead into the rim of the basin, the cracking sound loud, sending my stomach rolling.
It was the basin cracking, not his skull,I tell myself, shuddering as I watch on as Ringo drops Ian’s limp form to the floor.
Oh shit, who am I kidding? That was definitely Ian’s skull.
For a moment, I think that’s it. Ian’s dead, and it’s finally over, but a wheeze crackles up from his parted lips, and he rolls his head in my direction, his blood-filled swollen eyes blinking at me.
It’s the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. Something straight out of a horror movie, and I’m so distracted by it that I don’t see Ringo takeout his knife until it’s plunging right into Ian’s ear and straight into his brain.
Trembles wrack my entire body as I stare at the last bit of light flickering out from behind Ian’s eyes, before Ringo shifts between us, blocking my view.
“Angel,” he rasps, his voice pained as his big hand cups my cheek, tilting my head back to get a better look at me.
“I’m okay,” I sob, really not sounding okay.
“I’m so fucking sorry. I thought you were getting changed, which was why you were taking so long. I never imagined…”
I shake my head, peering up into his deep brown eyes. “It’s over,” I whisper. “There’s no one left to hunt me.”
“Fuck, Abs,” he sighs, his expression pinched like he’s kicking himself for not coming to find me sooner.
“I’m okay. Nothing I can’t handle,” I tell him, hoping it will reassure him, and he sighs, leaning closer to press his lips gently to the top of my head.
The bathroom door bangs open, and we both stiffen as more heavy feet come rushing in.
Shit. Is it the cops? Will Ringo go to jail now?
“Fuck, man.” A voice comes from beside me, and I glance at the shoes, not boots, that look a little too classy and shiny to belong to a biker. “She okay?”
“Yeah.” Ringo stands, and I see him reach out and shake someone’s hand.
