Zion
As soon as she exited the room, I knew the odds of them letting her go quietly were nil.
No one gets to come into our back room, make demands, stick a gun in my face, and get away with it. Which really cranks my chain because the last thing I want to do is go out into a parking lot in the middle of the night and kidnap some woman who’s obviously trouble. And then just add insult to injury, I’m gonna have to teach her a lesson, and I get the distinct impression that she’s not one that takes lessons very kindly.
I really don’t have time for this shit.
I’m still standing there long after she’s left the building, listening to all these assholes run their mouths. And then finally, Blake comes up beside me, jabbing his elbow into my side, as he snarls, “You gotta do something, Zion. You can’t just let her get away with that shit.”
I raise my brows at him and reply, “Well, technically, I can do whatever the hell I want.”
Shawn comes up on my other side, his face twisted in rage as he snarls, “If you don’t fucking do something, there will be hell to pay.”
I force myself not to roll my eyes again, but it’s difficult. I look between the two of them and sigh, then, without a word, I turn and walk away. In the doorway, I stop and look back and instruct, “You assholes, stay here.”
They both grin excitedly, knowing that I’m going to go out there and get her.
They should also know that they’re not gonna have anything to do with her, but they can dream in the interim.
I take my time exiting the building, my annoyance increasing when I see they haven’t even left the parking lot. Apparently, the self-preservation of these women is nonexistent. And because of this, I’m going to have no choice but to snatch her.
I rub my hands over my face tiredly, wishing I’d paid closer attention and never allowed that blonde girl to enter the back room. Or maybe that I’d been smart enough to secure my own weapon so some unsuspecting woman couldn’t steal it from me and stick it in my face.
I watch from a distance as most of them take off across the parking lot while the woman I’m waiting for walks slowly with one of her friends. They’re obviously deep in conversation while they’re walking, and then headlights appear, moving rapidly toward them before screeching to a halt a few feet from them.
The other women enter the vehicle, slamming doors behind them, while the two who lag behind stop a few feet away, backlit by the headlights. The woman I’m waiting for has her back to me, and it only takes a moment for her friend to see me. They have a brief conversation, rather intense, and I figure that they’re both gonna bolt for the vehicle.
But they don’t.
They share a long embrace, and then her friend turns and walks to the vehicle, getting in the passenger side and shutting the door.
Quietly, I close the distance between us, a bag at the ready in my hands. She raises her right hand in front of her, and the headlights blink three times before she then tucks her thumb in, very clearly showing them the devil horns.
Well, this can’t be good.
Then, the vehicle backs up rapidly, whipping around at the end of the row and barreling out of the parking lot onto the road. But she remains standing in the same spot, quietly staring off into the distance where they disappeared.
I step closer, just shy of actually pressing my front against her back, pulling the gun free, and putting it back in my holster, this time securing it appropriately. Silently, I slide my arm around her front, pressing my forearm against her throat. She doesn’t flinch or scream or have any outward reaction, which is obviously another huge damn red flag, but mostly I’m just glad she’s not gonna put up a fight and make me work for it.
Or worse yet, she’s gonna run because then at some point, I might have to get other people involved, and they’re definitely not going to be as nice about it as I am.
I drop my head down, the now-familiar shiver reverberating up my spine as I whisper near her ear, “Are you going to come quietly?”
She nods, then I add, “I’m gonna need a word here. Yes or no.”
She waits a beat and then whispers, “Yes.”
I narrow my eyes, all sorts of alarm bells going off, but knowing at this point, there’s nothing I can do about it. I have to take her in regardless of how I feel about it, which means it’s going to be a really long goddamn night.
I hustle her back across the parking lot, stopping beside my bike, where I ask, “Can you ride?”
“Yes,” she answers without hesitation.
“You gonna give me a hard time?” I ask again in what I can only hope is a somewhat menacing tone, relatively certain I sound tired and rather bored, but at this point, you get what you get. “If you fuck around on the back of my bike and wreck us, if you’re not dead, you’ll wish you were, and eventually you will be.”
Pretty sure I hear a snort, and I glance at her face, annoyed she’s not giving anything away with her facial expressions. Then she snorts again, louder this time, and says rather impatiently, “You plan on getting on with this or what?”
She’s not really sounding too much like a damsel. And I find that incredibly annoying because anyone with a lick of sense would be damseling right now.
