Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46081 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 230(@200wpm)___ 184(@250wpm)___ 154(@300wpm)
“L-let me g-go.” She managed around the increasing speed of her breath. She wrenched back and forth, but the man had at least eighty pounds on her and easily restrained her.
“Shh,” he whispered against her ear. His hot breath caused bile to rise in her esophagus. “Sit on Santa’s lap and tell him what you want for Christmas.”
He rubbed her thigh with his big hand.
“Hey! What the fuck’s going on! Let her go or get the fuck out,” the bartender shouted from behind the bar.
“Stay out of this, man,” one of the bikers said.
“I bet you’ve been a naughty girl this year. Haven’t you?”
She couldn’t have answered his question if her life depended on it. Her breath came in short, painful inhales, and inadequate exhales.
“Don’t think she likes you much, boss.” Spider tattoo strode over with a gleeful gleam in his eye.
“That’s it. I’m calling the cops,” the bartender announced.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” someone behind her said.
The distinct sound of a gun being cocked was the last straw as tears streamed down Rachel’s face. Panic took over, blurring her vision and making breathing impossible.
“Chill the fuck out,” the man holding her growled as she thrashed. She jerked her head, making contact with his nose. “Ow, Christ! Stop fucking struggling.” With a rough shove, he ejected her from his lap. Her knees and palms hit the sticky floor with an excruciating thud. She’d be sore as hell later, but the pain helped jerk her out of the impending anxiety attack.
“Crazy fucking bitch,” the biker grumbled a second before a heavy boot collided with her hip.
She cried out in pain as the force of the kick flipped her onto her back. Rachel scrambled away, using her legs to propel her as far from him as possible. But he followed, advancing with a menacing leer. Blood dripped from his nose where she’d connected with it.
He wiped it with his bare forearm, leaving a red streak across his arm. “You’ll pay for that, bitch.”
As he lifted his leg to kick again, her back hit the wall.
Trapped.
This time, her brain remained clear. Fuck being scared. She’d spent too much of her life living in fear. “They’ll kill you,” she yelled.
He froze mid-kick, then let his giant foot slap to the floor. A smile broke out across his face a second before he burst into laughter. “Who’s gonna kill me, little girl? Your daddy?”
“No,” she spat out from her position on the floor. “My brother. And my ol’ man.” Sure they hadn’t gotten that far, but what the hell? Anything to scare him off.
The term ol’ man seemed to register past his thick skull. He hesitated, then asked, “Who?”
She swallowed as a surge of panic forced her to channel the strength she’d heard the club’s women possessed. “The Hell’s Handlers MC.”
The guy laughed long and loud. “Woo-hoo, boys, you hear that? Those pussies we fought with the other night?”
Rachel narrowed her eyes. “Like I said, they’ll kill you if you don’t let me leave here unharmed. You’re already fucked for kicking me.”
Her false bravado did nothing to stem his laughter. “I’m shaking,” he said around his hilarity.
Spider tattoo laughed along with him. “We’ll be ready for those fuckers this time.”
“We sure will.” The guy hovering over her held his fist out for his buddy.
The second his gaze shifted off her, Rachel sprang into action. She leaped to her feet and shoved him with every ounce of power she possessed. It barely moved him more than six inches, but it was enough for her to slip around him. She ran to the door, yanked it open, and burst out into the twilight.
Shouts from behind her had her sprinting down the sidewalk as fast as she could pump her legs. “Help!” she screamed.
Cars whizzed by, but none stopped or even slowed to see why a burly biker was chasing a woman.
Her muscles screamed, and the roar of blood in her ears drowned out all noise. She pushed harder and faster. Stopping wasn’t an option. If he caught her, she’d be hurt.
Again.
Her feet slammed the pavement over and over. Breathing came in short, sharp bursts, not from panic this time but from extreme exertion.
A horn honked, making her jolt.
Her foot hit the ground at the same time…
… at the wrong angle.
A scream left her as she catapulted through the air. It happened so fast yet felt to take eons. She watched two cars zoom by as she flew. And then she was sliding along the concrete. Hot agony seared her arms and legs as she scraped along the sidewalk.
Before she could think to assess the damage or begin to climb to her feet, a hand gripped her hair. “Get the fuck up, bitch.”
He started to yank her to her feet. Rachel cried out and grabbed for her hair, but her hands screamed with pain. Her knees hurt so badly they could barely hold her weight.