So I lift my chin and meet Aaron Keenan’s gaze with every ounce of rage I possess.
“This is the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.”
My voice comes out confident, like I’m not the one tied to a chair with three bikers staring down at me.
I guess I’m a better actress than I thought.
Aaron’s mouth curves into a smirk that makes my skin crawl. “Seems to me this is working out pretty well so far.”
He circles behind my chair, the metal fixtures on his boots making an ominous jingle. I track him through sound alone, refusing to crane my neck to follow. Won’t give him the power of knowing he’s making me nervous.
I inject as much boredom into my tone as I can manage. “Assault. Kidnapping. You really want to spend the rest of your life in prison?”
“Cute.” Aaron reappears in my peripheral vision, still circling. “You think pointing out that I’m adding to a long list of crimes is going to what? Make me let you go?”
“I think it might make you reconsider before you do something even dumber.”
“You’ll be disappointed.”
The other bikers shift in the shadows. I can make out their shapes now that my eyes have adjusted, two of them are the same assholes who were with Aaron at the lobster festival. The third is younger, maybe early twenties, and he won’t meet my eyes. He keeps looking at the floor, at the walls, anywhere but directly at me.
File that away.
Aaron stops in front of me, legs spread in an aggressive stance obviously intending to intimidate. His leather vest is open, showing off a burly chest covered in enough hair that just the sight of it makes me want to gag.
“You’re going to fetch me a pretty penny if your rich boyfriend ever wants to see you again.”
I assume he means Atticus and roll my eyes. “I have my own money, genius. I’ll take you to an ATM right now if that’s all this is about.”
Aaron laughs.”Think I’m stupid, little girl. ATMs have cameras and your accounts will be flagged as soon as you’re reported missing, so the cops’ll show up as soon as I swipe your card. Nice try, though.”
I glare at him. “My pack will find me.”
“Yourpack?” He slaps his knee, the gesture so theatrical it would be funny in different circumstances. “You talking about those soy boys you’ve been hanging around with? I don’t think so. Judah Daniels is entirely dickless and Dominic Romano has been washed up since he was fourteen. I doubt the two you brought with you could do much better.”
“You weren’t saying that when they chased you away at the festival.”
The humor evaporates, his expression turning dangerous. “I’d like to be there if they grow the balls to try. Unfortunately for both of us, I won’t get the chance to put them in the ground. No one is going to come looking for you here.”
“They’re coming,” I continue, voice soft and deadly. “And when they get here, you better hope the cops get to you first. Because what Judah, Dom, Atticus and Mason will do to you? Prison will seem like a vacation.”
Aaron’s expression hardens.
The backhand connects with my cheek hard enough to snap my head sideways.
Pain explodes across my face, and I taste blood where my teeth catch the inside of my cheek. My vision blurs with involuntary tears that I absolutely refuse to let fall no matter how much my eyes burn.
I spit blood onto the concrete at his feet and look up at him through the hair that’s fallen across my face. “Big man, slapping a woman tied to a chair.”
“That the best you got?”
He raises his hand again.
“VP?” The nervous biker—the young one who won’t meet my eyes—shifts his weight. “Uh, what if no one pays?”
Aaron’s hand drops. His head swivels toward the kid with a look that could strip paint.
“What?”
