Turning over, I slammed my fist into the pillow, bunching it up. Damn thing was lumpy as fuck, just like the mattress I was laying on. No matter what I did, I couldn’t get comfortable. After a few minutes, I sighed, knowing sleep wasn’t in my immediate future. With a growl of frustration, I slid out of bed and left my bedroom. Stopping at my brother’s door, I opened it a crack and peeked in. A large grin spread across my face when I saw Brady fast asleep, clutching tightly to the stuffed panther I had given him for his birthday a few months ago. One that looked almost identical to my animal when I shifted, and how I assumed Brady would look after he had his first shift. It hadn’t happened yet, but the cub in him was strong, and I figured it would be soon. A low sound slipped from Brady’s lips, similar to a deep purr, as he turned over so that he was facing the door, lost in his dreams.
Shaking my head, I closed the door and turned toward the stairs, a faint smile still on my lips. “At least someone can sleep,” I muttered, taking the steps two at a time, pausing at the bottom when I heard the low growl from a couple of Harleys as they sped by the house. Strange. They didn’t normally go down our road, since Highway 2 was on the other side of town. There was nothing past us, except for some fields and further down some woods. No way out of town unless you took a few of the back, gravel roads.
Shrugging it off, I went into the kitchen and grabbed a pitcher of water out of the fridge, pouring a glass, and downing half of it. Leaning over the sink, I dumped the other half over my head, sighing as the cold water slid over my too hot skin. Suddenly, the rumble of the Harleys reached me again. Glancing out the window, I stiffened as I watched the headlights of the two bikes as they came closer and closer.
The bikes slowed as they approached our driveway, and then they turned in, coming to a stop a few feet from the front porch stairs. The ray from the beam of their headlights shone brightly on the front of the house. One of the men set the kickstand, threw a leg over his seat, and then grabbed something from his saddlebags. With the glare of the lights, I couldn’t see what it was, but something told me it wasn’t good. My cat pushed against my skin, fighting to get out, but I refused to let him free. He was wild and dangerous, and too hard to control sometimes.
“Georgia!” the man hollered, moving to stand in front of the bikes, partially blocking the light. “Come on out and talk to us, girl! Seems we have a few things to discuss.”
Frowning, I cursed silently as I stalked out of the kitchen. My mother wasn’t home. She was working at the bar, but I wasn’t going to tell these bastards that.
“Georgia, get your ass out here, bitch, before I come in there after ya!”
Slipping into my mom’s room, I opened the drawer on her end table and took out the Glock she always kept hidden there, making sure it was loaded before sliding it into the back of my jeans. I’d dealt with assholes like this before, but I had a bad feeling this time. It didn’t matter. I was the man of the house. It was my job to protect my family.
“Griff? What’s going on?”
The small voice reached me just as I was leaving the bedroom. Glancing up to the top of the stairs, I put a finger to my lips, then pointed toward my brother’s room. Brady’s eyes widened, and he nodded, before quickly turning and running back down the hall. Unfortunately, this wasn’t his first time dealing with something like this either. He knew exactly what to do when I signaled to him that there was a threat near.
“Georgia!”
Gritting my teeth tightly together, I took a deep breath before I walked to the front door, placing a hand on it and closing my eyes briefly. This was going to go one way… bad. I’d lost count of how many times I’d gotten my ass handed to me by the bikers my mother brought home from one of the bars. She always tried to stop it, but there was no way I was letting my mom take a punch for me. Obviously, it was too much to ask for her to just not invite them home in the first place.
Swearing darkly, knowing I had no choice if I wanted to keep them out of the house and away from my little brother, I opened the door and stepped out onto the front porch. Feeling the slight give in the rotted wood I was standing on, I prayed this wouldn’t be the time I fell through the old boards.
“Who the fuck, are you?” the man standing in front of the bikes snarled. He was partially covering up the bright lights, and I winced slightly when I was finally able to see what he’d gotten out of the saddlebag. A thick, iron chain was wrapped around his right hand, at least a foot of it hanging free.
Shit.
The other man revved up his Harley, throwing his head back and laughing loudly before he cut the engine. Sliding
