Think, Trinity. Think. There’s got to be?—
“You in some kind of trouble?” A voice filters through my doom spiral. A tall, leather-clad man with a salt-and-pepper coif and a close-shaved face stands to my left with a pack of cigarettes in his hand. “Maybe I can help.”
Any other time, an unknown man swooping in to assist would have aroused my suspicion. But this guy might be my only hope. The fear in my belly loosens, just a bit.
“I need a phone. Can I borrow yours? Just to make one call.” My words trip out of my mouth as I clench my trembling hands in front of my waist.
“I’ve got a phone out in my car.” His chilly half-smile is less evil than Brody’s, which is probably the best I can hope for.
“Thank you so much.” Relief sighs through me as the guy pays for the cigarette pack and nods at me to follow him outside.
Brody’s out there, but this man is pretty big. I also doubt Brody would murder a random citizen, so I’m probably safe.
Right? Yeah, sure. Let’s go with that.
As soon as he’s pushed the door open and we walk out, my guardian angel swings a long, hairy arm around my shoulders. “So, why don’t you tell me more about these troubles of yours?”
Before I can answer, he angles us to the right, opposite the gas pumps where the BMW still sits. A group of bikers gathers near the edge of the parking lot, dressed in leather and studs and painful amounts of piercings. Tattoos. Chains. Spikes. Scowling, leering faces.
One by one, a dozen men pivot to face us, their heavy gazes dragging over my body. Discomfort fuses with panic in my chest, like two converging streams headed for a hellish waterfall.
The fear returns tenfold, ballooning and threatening to creep up my throat in the form of bile.
What have I done?
“Look what I got, boys!” My false savior extends his free arm as we approach. “Dinner!”
The arm around me disappears, replaced by a hard shove against the middle of my spine. I land on my knees and scrabble around to glance up. The bikers converge, circling like vultures.
As they close in, I glimpse Brody through their stocky legs.
Reclining against the BMW, with his arms folded and a stoic, unreadable expression on his face, he watches my demise like the monster he is.
Chapter 13
Brody
I don’t find men roughing up a young woman the least bit entertaining. Though my muscles vibrate with the instinct to defend Trinity, I call on my willpower to wait for the right moment.
That moment when Trinity Gallagher shatters.
She has to experience terror to realize that running away is worse than staying with me.
Controlling her will be a hell of a lot easier if she polices herself. Hostages that trust their captors more than the unknown are simple as pie to keep in line, and that option is better for us both.
So I don’t plan on intervening until she truly grasps what I’m saving her from.
When that prick pushes her to the ground, though, all my plans fly out the window.
An inferno ignites in my blood, raging through me faster than a California wildfire.
I don’t stop to consider why I care. Why seeing her fall—when I just tripped her myself—snaps the thin veneer of my self-control.
The why doesn’t matter. Trinity ismyhostage.
No one else is going to touch her like that.
Shoving off the SUV, I rush toward the tall, sleazy fuck of a leader and tap him on the shoulder. “Hey, dickwad.” He spins with a growl, and I crack the knuckles of one hand against the other. “Lay another finger on her, and you’ll be picking teeth out of the cracks in the pavement.”
