Page 56 of Worth Risking It

“Hey, now, momma. Why are you in such a rush? Come dance with me. Show me what that sexy body can do.”

My smile more forced now, I held my hand up and wiggled my finger. “Engaged. Not interested, but thanks.”

His thick brows furrowed, his nostrils flaring out as he roughly tugged me to him. Pain exploded in my shoulder, and I grimaced, rubbing at the joint.

“Ow, what are you doing?”

“I didn’t ask you to marry me, I want to dance.”

“I said, no.”

Fire flickered in his eyes, his lips sneering. “No is not an answer I take kindly to, pretty lady. Now let’s go.”

Whimpering, I fought, slapping at him.

“Hey,” someone shouted, seeing the struggle. “Why don’t you let the woman go?”

He jutted his chin at the stranger. “She’s my fiancée and she’s drunk. Mind your business.”

The man glimpsed at me shaking my head adamantly.

“No, no. I’m not!”

He chuckled sinisterly and tugged me to him. An arm around my waist, he yanked my hand up and flashed my ring. “See? We go through this every weekend. She’s an alcoholic. I’m just trying to get her home.”

“He’s lying!” I cried, squirming against his tight hold. Damn, he was strong!

The stranger heaved, held his palms up, and backed into the crowd.

“No, wait!”

Fear clouded my brain, panic setting in while the man dragged me down a dark hallway that was secluded at the back. Flailing my fists, I was swatting at him, trying my damndest to pry my wrist from his viselike grip.

“You have no idea who my fiancé is,” I seethed, wiggling with all my might.

“Don’t care. All I want is five minutes, momma.”

A bit of spite broke through my fear, and I snorted. “Five minutes? No wonder you have to force yourself on a woman, weak dick bastard.”

Enraged, the back of his hand crashed over my cheek. I yelped, lights flashing in my eyes, my ears ringing. My brain stunned, I momentarily went still long enough for him to pin me to the wall and grope my breast, his lips on my neck.

The buzzing faded after a few seconds, the music filling my ears once more. Batting my lashes, I cringed, my stomach curdling with this man’s tongue on my skin. Throwing my head back, I cried out, tears trickling out my eyes.

“No!” I wailed, banging my fists on his shoulders. With a burst of adrenaline, I stamped my heel on his foot as hard as I could.

He grunted and stumbled backward, his expression one of evilness. Grabbing my throat, he pulled me off the wall and slammed me back, dazing me again.

“You fucking bitch. You really aren’t worth this, you know?”

“Then why don’t you take your motherfucking hands off my woman?” Milo’s deep, menacing tone cut through all the other sounds in the club.

Me and the man bristled, both of our breaths ceasing when we realized there was a gun pointed at the back of his head. His eyes were black, his brows low, his lips taut. I had never seen him look this way; it was like staring in the face of the devil, himself, and I was terrified.

My heart banging on my ribs, I squeaked out a breathy, “Milo.”

The man in black slowly released his fingers and held his palms up. “Look, man,” he started, his tone quivering. “I didn’t know she had a man. The bitch came on to me. I had no idea—”

There was an odd, high pitched piercing sound that was drowned out by the music of the club. The man’s head lurched, and blood splattered all over the front of my dress. Smoke filled the narrow hallway, gunpowder burning my nose. A gravelly sigh poured from his mouth, his eyes rolled, and he slumped to the floor.