Layla always got herself into shit that could’ve been avoided if she just kept her mouth shut and her attitude in check. But instead of heeding the warning, Layla ripped her arm free and glared like a spoiled brat.
Quinn swore under her breath. One more reason Gypsy was getting a swift kick in the balls when she got home.
It happened too fast for anyone to react.
The patch holder—a towering, rough-looking biker—reached out and smacked Layla on the ass. The sharpclapcut through the noise of the beer garden.
Layla didn’t hesitate. She whirled and slapped him across the face.
"Don’t—"Quinn barely got the word out before the guy lunged.
He grabbed Layla by the throat, yanking her toward him like she weighed nothing.
Damn it, Layla!
Brandi’s blood went cold as she watched it unfold. She knew the rules. Layla had just made a mistake she wouldn’t walk away from. When you put your hands on a patch holder, you either fought until you were broken, or you were used until they were done with you.
The biker tightened his grip on Layla’s throat, grinning.“You’ve got two choices, sweetheart. I either beat the fight out of you, or I fuck it out. Your call.”
The table had gone silent. No one was going to help them.
Brandi’s pulse pounded. Layla was Quinn’s sister, a good girl who had no idea what kind of hell she’d just stepped into. Brandi, though? She had been through this kind of hell before. She knew how it worked. She knew how to survive it.
She stepped forward, pushing through the frozen crowd."Take me instead."
The biker’s head snapped toward her. His eyes dragged over her body, slow and predatory. His grin widened.“Why the hell would I do that?”
Brandi locked eyes with Layla, silently begging her to catch on. Just this once, keep your damn mouth shut.
Brandi straightened, pulling herself into the role she needed to play.“She belongs to another club.”
The patch holder’s expression flickered with interest."Yeah? Which club’s your old man in, bitch?"
Layla gasped against his grip, her nails clawing uselessly at his arm. Her wide eyes darted to Brandi, panic flooding her face.
“Gypsy Kings,”she choked out.
The biker hesitated, eyeing Layla before shifting his attention back to Brandy. "And you?"he asked, his voice thick with suspicion.
Brandi swallowed hard. She knew exactly what she was signing up for, but better her than Layla. Better her than Quinn’s sister. Layla wouldn’t survive what these men would do to her.
Brandi had been through worse. She could survive one more round. She lifted her chin.“I work for them. I’m just a club girl.”
The biker let out a slow, nasty laugh.“We’ll see about that.”
Layla stumbled back when he let her go, and immediately grabbed Brandi’s hand, trying to pull her away.
But the patch holder was faster. He snatched Brandi around the waist, yanking her back against him."She stays."
Laughter rumbled from his brothers, a sickening sound that made Brandi’s stomach turn. Her eyes found Quinn’s in the crowd.
Quinn was already moving forward, ready to fight, to do something stupid. Brandi shook her head.No.
If they stayed, they’d see what the club would do to her.
If they stayed, they’d try to stop it.
And if they tried to stop it, they’d all be dead by morning.
