Chapter One #3
Then he disappeared from view when the man he’d been playing pool with stepped between them, looked at her curiously, and broke their connection.
Immediately, Shiloh blinked, coming out of a daze that had hazed over her brain as the bar rushed back into focus.
The second man was another biker, wearing the same kind of clothes.
A friend? Bodyguard? If Sexy Biker Boy needed a bodyguard, then who the hell was he? Was he a real biker, or a poser?
Just as she was about to crane her head to the side to get another glimpse of the gorgeous guy, she suddenly noticed a man sitting two seats down who grabbed the arm of his girlfriend.
It wasn’t a friendly grab, or even a protective grab.
No, this was intended to inflict pain. She looked from the white-knuckled fingers encircling the girl’s arm up to her face, which had paled in pain, then over to the asshole holding her.
No matter how good-looking or ugly a guy may be, how rich or how poor, the look of an abuser was always the same.
Cold, dead eyes that held no empathy, with anger bracketing the mouth, and a sneer that permanently scrunched up the nose as if he smelt something rotten.
The boyfriend was taller, bigger, and stronger than his petite girlfriend, but that didn’t seem to matter.
She was terrified because she knew what was coming.
The fear on her face was broadcast for all to see.
It was a fear Shiloh knew all too well.
A second later, the boyfriend yanked the woman off the bar stool and headed toward the restroom area.
He wanted privacy to either give her a small taste of what was to come later, or he wanted to use her body in a demeaning way in order for her to be humbled.
It was one of the oldest tricks in an abuser’s handbook.
Assault her in a public place, surrounded by dozens of people who would not or could not interfere.
Screw that. Shiloh hopped off the bar stool and followed them.
Several girls waited for the ladies’ room.
They whispered behind their hands, staring down the hallway.
All wanted to gossip. None wanted to help.
As the asshole jerked the girl through the back door, she hurried forward, catching it before it banged shut.
It led to the back of the building, which opened to an alley.
Large garbage bins stood off to the side, reeking of old beer and rotten food, with a heavy scent of urine defiling the air.
The boyfriend hadn’t noticed Shiloh as he swung the girl around and backhanded her across the face. Down she went, and without a thought to her own safety, Shiloh flew at him. She shoved him, and because it caught him off guard, he stumbled back.
“What the fuck!” the asshole cried. He fell into a car and stared at her like she was a deranged lunatic. “Who the fuck are you?”
“A concerned citizen. What? You can hit a girl but don’t like it when one fights back?” Shiloh taunted. The adrenaline coursing through her body left her jittery, like she’d just drank twenty energy drinks and then chased them down with a tall glass of espresso.
“Get the fuck out of here, psycho bitch!” the man yelled back, still slumped against the car.
“Typical,” she snorted at him. “You’re all manly and high on testosterone when you’re smacking a defenseless girl around, but the minute one stands up to you, your dick goes all limp.”
For a brief moment, she looked at the girl, who was still on the ground, holding her cheek. Staring at Shiloh like she was an alien that came down to abduct her.
She held out my hand. “Come on. I’ll call you a cab.”
But the asshole boyfriend straightened upright and stomped over, knocking her hand away. “Don’t touch her.”
“I could say the same to you, dick breath.”
This time he pushed against her shoulders, and since he was about twice as strong as her, she went flying, crashing hard onto the concrete ground.
As he reached for his girlfriend, a red haze misted over her eyes.
She didn’t see a stranger. Instead, it was her own ex-boyfriend beating her black and blue.
The assault on her body left behind nightmares.
Not again. Never. Shiloh propelled herself up and charged the man, bending over so her head could ram into his stomach.
He let out a whoosh of breath before stumbling back.
“You cunt!” he roared. “Can’t keep your fucking nose out of my business. You’re going to regret interfering in this, slut.”
“I bet you can’t even get it up unless you hit a woman, limp dick motherfucker.”
“Oh, I’m going to enjoy fucking you up.”
Her breath came in hard pants as she stared at him. Hating him. Daring him to make a move. A second later, he obliged, coming straight at her with his fist balling. She had a brief moment of thinking, Oh, hell, before she closed her eyes against the pain she knew that fist was going to impart.
Then, a crunch of knuckles on flesh. She heard the break of a bone and a gurgled cry as someone thumped to the ground. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw the asshole knocked out cold, blood pouring from his obviously broken nose. Slowly, she turned around to see her savior.
The biker.
His fist was still tightly clenched, but he wasn’t staring at the man he’d just punched.
His gaze was fixed on her, and the air between them became charged.
Why did this man affect her like this? Every nerve ending in her body jumped to life, and she didn’t like that at all.
His aura was intense. Power and strength carved in every facet of his being.