I’d forgotten the rest of the bikers in the room as Ripper started laughing hysterically. He’d stood from his chair and was heading directly toward me. He advanced, but I kept taking steps backward to keep the distance between us. “Jimmy, you wouldn’t deny your president, would you?” he cackled.
“No, sir.” Any love I felt for Jimmy died a slow, painful death. He was weak, and this had proven it.
“You won’t get close enough to touch me.” I took another step, but I hit the front of the back bar. It only caused Ripper to laugh some more. He placed his hands on either side of me, grabbing the bar before he leaned down, smelling me. I froze at the intrusion into my personal space.
His body odor invaded my nose, waking me up. “This is Saint’s Outlaws territory. You need to leave before you can’t come back from this,” I whispered.
“Fuck the Saints.” He leaned forward, running his nose underneath my ear. His breath smelled of old coffee. I didn’t fight. Instead, I brought my knee up, planning on driving it hard into his dick. He predicted the move, grabbing my leg to hold me in place, pushing his dick against me. “See, I always knew you wanted me.”
I gave in, freezing as I listened to the sounds of the saloon being destroyed. This was my fault. I deserved this, I thought, swallowing. I tuned out. The sounds faded into a buzz between my ears.
No, I won’t give in. Not today.
I nuzzled his neck with my nose, giving him a false sense of security. He moaned, and my stomach wanted to revolt violently. I trampled it down as I moved to suckle his earlobe. This was only a distraction, and I needed to keep focused on what mattered—safety and the saloon.
“We’d be good together, Rox,” he moaned.
It was all the encouragement I needed. I wouldn’t allow myself to get caught in whatever game this was. He didn’t own me. My teeth clamped down, but when he pulled away, I held on tighter. The earlobe tore. I had actually done it. As the adrenaline kicked in, my hands shook. Clenching them into fists, I didn’t let anyone see me fall apart. I would later.
“Well, fuck me sideways.”
Scorpion.
The Saints were here.
Chapter sixteen
Checkmate
Roxy
Each time Ripper moved his head, the hanging skin flapped. I’d never known a biker to be squeamish about blood, but every time he brought his dirty hand up to poke it, he’d double over, making retching sounds. I said nothing, preparing to run if he actually threw up. He needed to man up. I had a pool of blood in my mouth, and I hadn’t moved away from the bar.
“You fucking bitch,” he spat. I still said nothing, reaching for a napkin to wipe the spittle off my face, but he was quicker. His hand cracked against my cheek, sending me to the ground, but I grabbed the bar, digging my nails into the wood. I wouldn’t lay at this asshole’s fucking feet. It took me a minute to bounce back, but he just laughed at me. I wasn’t a weak little girl. He was just a dirty bastard. I pulled back, spitting the glob of blood into his face.
“You should have left when you had the chance.” I smiled, hoping I still had blood on my teeth. I wasn’t a fan of other people’s blood, but at least I wasn’t gagging. Ripper reached back to hit me again but hesitated when Scorpion’s voice rang out across the room.
“Hit her again, and I’ll use your head to clean up this floor.”
Ripper wrapped his sweaty hand around my bicep, thinking we were going to leave the saloon. “We got what we came for, so we’ll be leaving now,” he called to his men, but no one moved.
Scorpion stepped in front of him mid-stride. “You’re not going anywhere. Let go of her.” Each syllable was drawn out.
Scorpion wasn’t high on my list, but I wouldn’t let him see me flinch. He wasn’t here to protect me, but I didn’t fear him. If he kicked me out of the saloon after this, he wouldn’t do it until after they left. There were worse things in life than death, and at least Scorpion would make it quick, taking me out into the desert.
The only person who could protect me from Scorpion’s wrath was Cactus. I scanned the room, checking each face. Too young. Too heavy. Definitely too skinny. He wasn’t here, and my heart sank. It was my fault, letting him take up space in my mind. He was someone I barely knew. Giving him power over my fear was my fault. I wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“I’ve been to your shithole of a bar, so I’ll understand if this is like culture shock. You’re going to get a beatdown for this, so why not make it easier on yourself?” Scorpion shot me a look over Ripper’s shoulder. A silent message to fight the hold.
I had been dead weight he was dragging behind him, so when I squirmed, banging my free fist against the patch on his back, he couldn’t maintain his grip on my arm. Letting me go, he was stuck facing Scorpion. A slow, cruel smile stretched across his face before he balled his fist, smashing it into Ripper’s face. He followed it up with several hits to Ripper’s chest and gut, like it cost him nothing.
Ripper doubled over, holding his stomach in. “Enough.”
“This is only the beginning.” His eyes went to Angelica’s, still standing behind the bar with the soda gun in her hand. Before he could say anything, the front door opened. Aces strolled in with one of the other Saints. I recognized him from that lunch, but no one had introduced us.
“All taken care of. Sheriff can’t wait to collect $500 a bike.” Aces laughed, the sound hollow as he surveyed the room.
“Don’t forget our tow fee,” the other brother chuckled.
