I was almost done with the first draft when rowdy shouts coming from the waiting room had me jerking my head up. What the hell was going on?
I heard Lucinda’s shrill cries from the Reception desk, two low growling voices giving commands that were unintelligible through the walls separating us. No one else was on shift tonight. Just us two girls.
I had to do something. I couldn’t leave her to face whatever was happening out there all by herself.
I shot to my feet, ready to tear into the Reception area when the door flew open, shocking the shit out of me.
I jerked back as two huge steroid-abusing hulks burst into my studio room.
One of them kicked the door shut so violently that the room shook from the impact.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I demanded. “If you think you can just burst in—”
A sharp slap to the face had my head snapping to the side. Groaning at the bitch of a sting, I stumbled back, falling into the wall, and grasping at it for support just to keep upright.
“Shut it, princess bitch!” the bearded one bellowed.
Princess? They knew who I was!
They stomped closer to me, their hefty motorcycle boots thumping loudly on the tiled floor.
“So, this is Scott’s baby girl,” the one with a straggly goatee spoke to Beardy.
“No wonder he kept her locked away in that fucking club compound for so long.” Goatee’s eyes roamed over me lewdly. “Damn, you’re a sweet piece of ass, ain’t ya?”
Beardy stepped up to me and grasped a strand of my vibrant-pink hair. “This match what you got going on in here?” He reached between my legs.
“Get back!” I screamed, batting his hand away just before it made contact.
They both laughed nastily. The insult in it had my initial shock leaving me and ire building quickly. My dad’s words rang in my ear, from the days when he’d taught me how to defend myself when I was younger.
“Don’t get scared, get angry. Anger is power, baby girl.”
Beardy went for me again, looking to grab my arm.
I was ready, reacting faster, thrusting my knee up into his gut. His eyes went wide and he choked, falling back.
I spun quickly and darted to my worktable, snatching up my pair of scissors. Spinning them around in my hand, I narrowed my eyes menacingly as they advanced on me.
“Come any closer and you’ll regret it,” I threatened.
“Bitch likes it rough,” Goatee commented.
Beardy took a step closer, telling me creepily, “Prez said we gotta keep you breathing. Didn’t say nothing about not dealing out some punishment if you misbehave.”
I couldn’t suppress a shudder at the disturbing threat.
“You want the first run at her?” Goatee asked.
A sudden thud startled me and had them spinning around, their fists at the ready as someone stomped into the room. I couldn’t see past the two of them to see who it was.
“The only way you’re getting your dicks wet right now is by me ripping them the fuck off and shoving them up your motherfucking asses,” a husky voice boomed.
Whoa. That was… intense.
“Who the hell are you?” Goatee demanded. “The bitch’s bodyguard?”
I saw them moving inch by inch as the new guy managed to manipulate them into maneuvering 180-degrees, until his back was to me, and they were facing into the room.
The new guy was between me and them, protecting me.
“All right, Ashley?”
The new guy shot a quick glance over his shoulder at me. He was wearing a navy baseball cap that concealed his features, but he lifted it enough for me to take him in. That shock of thick, black hair. Those deep-blue eyes.
Oh my God. It was him. After all this time, it was him protecting me.
Finn “Wraith” Jones, my dad’s old friend from their Special Forces days. And the man I hadn’t been able to get out of my head for the last couple of years.
“Finn?” I breathed.
“Are you?” he pressed, concern all over his face.
I managed a mute nod, before I was finally able to croak out, “Yeah. Good.”
His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized my face. “Your cheek says otherwise. These assholes do that?”
I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly self-conscious about it, embarrassed that it’d happened at all. “Uh huh.”
“All right. Look away.” He cracked his knuckles.
A shriek burst from me when Beardy lunged at him without any warning.
But Finn was ready. He sidestepped the attack, grasped the psycho’s biceps, and used his weight against him to haul him across the room. I winced as his bulky weight made a dent in the drywall. He groaned as he collapsed onto the hard tile with a nasty thud.
Oh, hell. “Finn, this is my workplace. Them bursting in here and starting crap is bad enough. But if you—”
“You’re done with this place as of right now, so it won’t matter.”
“Excuse me? What are you—”
“Later!” he ordered, holding up his hand to me.
Goatee tried to back away as Finn advanced on him, one long intimidating stride at a time.
“I’m sorry, man. Real sorry.”
“Sorry?” Finn spat. “Her blood’s staining your fucking rings.”
I peered closer at the asshole’s fingers. Crap, it was. How deep had he actually grazed me then? Sure, my cheek was stinging, but I’d figured it’d just been the result of the blow itself, not a cut.
I brought my hand to my face, feeling the burn upon contact. As I pulled it away, blood covered my fingers. It was a hell of a lot worse than I’d thought. The adrenaline coursing through my veins had to be masking the real level of pain.
Finn’s roar startled me out of myself.
“What kinda man hits a lady?” he demanded of Goatee.
“Lady?” Goatee scoffed, clearly done with the apologizing, pleading route. “No way no biker princess of Iron Kings could be a fucking lady.” He pushed it
