by Stacey Lynn
God, he was good at that. He knew how to turn me on like he’d been doing it for years and not days.
But that was also the problem: Finn kissed me and all my common sense evaporated.
This wasn’t right.
And it wasn’t safe.
“Finn,” I said as my hands found space between us, and I pushed against his chest. “Stop it.”
He pulled back, his eyes narrowed. My fingers felt his heartbeat pounding through the soft fabric of his shirt.
“What?”
“I can’t do this.” Not here anyway. Probably not ever again.
I shook the thought out of my head and the pain from my chest at the thought.
It took him several seconds to understand, and the entire time I fought to take the words back. With our breathing mingled together, his bunched muscles under my fingertips, I wanted to take it all back.
No one made me feel this crazed.
No one made me feel this alive.
My head spun with overwhelming and conflicting emotion and Finn took a step back.
Exhaling a breath, I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he clipped and stared down the alley. “It was nothing anyway. Stay here and I’ll go pay the check.”
He spun, shoving his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, and walked away as if he didn’t have a care in the world.
As if he hadn’t just mauled me up against this brick wall mere moments ago and had me panting so hard I thought I would burst at the seams.
“Damn it,” I muttered and exhaled a harsh breath. My hands flew to the back of my head and I scrubbed as if I could erase the feeling of Finn’s strong hands tangled in my hair. In frustration, I kicked an empty pop can, barely hearing it skitter across the cement into the shadows of the alley.
How did a night out get so screwed up?
I still felt his fingers on my skin, digging into my hips through my jeans, his hands wrapped around my thighs as he pressed his large erection against me.
My body still pulsed for him.
I hated it.
I wanted more.
“Argh!” I groaned, and my hands fell to my sides.
The sound of gravel crunching had me spinning on my heels.
Instantly, my body chilled as two figures stepped into the alley.
“Looking for someone?” the man asked and stepped out of the shadows.
My eyes widened as soon as I saw the two men—one in a suit, the other in nothing more than jeans, boots, and a gray T-shirt.
Damn it. I’d been so overwhelmed with Finn I’d completely forgotten why we were in town anyway. Why he was ever with me to begin with.
And that mistake might have just cost me everything.
22 Meg
My heart thumped to my knees and I took a protective step back.
The guy in the jeans licked his lips. “You didn’t say she was this pretty,” he leered, speaking to Maurice Moscoe.
I took another step back as my pulse began thundering in my ears. My eyes scanned the alley, trying to find anything I could use to defend myself. I knew exactly what was coming.
A sick chuckle fell from Moscoe’s lips and his eyes scanned my body. “I tried to warn you.”
Jeans-guy took a step forward. I saw his muscles flex and bend beneath his shirt as he closed in on me.
“Stay away,” I warned, but my voice was shaky. My lips quivered and I rolled them together to stop the burning sensation licking my skin.
“Careful,” Moscoe said, still looking at me with a sick and twisted humor dancing in his eyes. “I want her unharmed.”
I swallowed a thick lump in my throat and my mouth went dry.
He had found me—just like Ryker and Finn had warned me.
And I’d sent my protection away.
Fear clung to my rapidly beating heart as I took another step back until I was trapped.
Stupid, I chided myself, still watching Jeans-guy move in closer. He was so close I could smell the strong scent of tobacco and alcohol on his breath. His eyes were slightly cloudy, telling me he was either drunk or stoned.
Either way, I was screwed.
“Listen,” I started and then flinched.
My head hit the brick wall right as Jeans-guy’s finger touched my cheekbone.
“So pretty,” he murmured. His eyes trailed down my body. I was pinned in place by fear and the minute touch of his fingertip. His head turned and he caught Moscoe’s gaze that was still sliding up and down my body. I suddenly felt oily and dirty from his stare alone. “You said I could play, didn’t you?”
“Not too much,” Moscoe whispered. “Just enough to teach her that running from me is something I will never allow. Not when I own you.”
God. Where was Finn? I shook my head, felt the cement behind me catch in my hair. “Go away.”
“Aw, I won’t hurt you.” He leaned in and his breath was at my neck.
His tongue darted out as his hips pushed into me. Vomit rose in my throat and my heart stopped beating. Cold ice traveled down my spine, and I quaked as tears began burning my eyes.
“Please don’t do this,” I gasped, my voice barely audible.
The guy in jeans laughed and pushed his hips. He was hard.
I squeezed my eyes closed, shaking my head.
“Please…go. Finn will be here soon and you’ll regret this.” I hated the weakness in my voice—the fear I could feel pulsing off me.
I hated even more when Moscoe’s deep rumble of laughter filled the suddenly heavy air. “He’s a bit disposed of at the moment.” He nodded toward the man touching me. “Which means you need to make this quick.”
With his hands still on his hips and the same sick smile on his face, Moscoe stayed still. Relaxed.
Oh my God. He was going to stand there and watch. Let Jeans-guy do whatever he wanted to me right here.
Shit. What had he done to Finn?
“Oh God,” I breathed out as the reality crashed down on me.
“You can call me that if you want.”
I froze as his hand dropped to my waist. I wasn’t even putting up a fight, but he was so large and strong, I knew there was nothing I could do.
He spun me around and my hands whipped out, bracing my impact against the brick wall.
“Please,” I whispered. “I’ll go. I’ll do whatever you want—”
“Just what I wanted to hear,” he murmured, his alcohol-scented breath in my ear.
Something cold pressed against my neck.
“Now don’t move, and don’t scream. Or I’ll slit your throat.”
I swallowed, felt the metal against my throat, and froze.
Oh, shit. The knife dug into my sensitive skin and shudders racked my body.
My head dropped against the wall and I felt the bumps of the bricks dig into my forehead. My fingers scratched against the roughness of the wall as I clung to it.
Jeans-guy kicked at my legs, spreading them, and his hand at my neck dropped until I felt him at the back of me.
My thighs tried to clamp together, but he had a knee between my legs, keeping me spread open.
“You don’t get a move on this, Deke, I’m ending your fun.”
I twisted my head and glared at Moscoe as tears began rolling down my cheeks. He still stood there, closer now, as if he was keeping an eye on the end of the alley.
Deke. At least I had a name. Not that it mattered: they were going to do whatever they wanted to me and there was nothing I could do.
Brayden flashed through my mind and I cried out as a warm hand popped the button on my jeans and began shoving them roughly past my hips.
“Don’t,” I sobbed.
His hand felt oddly smooth, such an odd thing to notice in the midst of the hell that was crashing down on me. Goose bumps flared on my stomach as his hand pressed beneath my jeans. Cool air hit my hipbones and then my butt cheeks.
“God,” I cried out over a lump in my throat.
I felt the first sting of steel dig into my skin. The hint of blood wafted to my nose as my skin began to burn.
“I will cut you,” he growled into my ear.
“Not a chance.”
I gasped. My fingers pressed into the cement and the guy at my back tightened his hold on me.
“Get the fuck away,” Deke growled. But his hold shifted enough that I could turn my head.
My breath caught as I saw Finn standing behind Moscoe. One of Finn’s arms was wrapped around Moscoe’s neck. He held a knife larger than the one against my skin and pressed it against Moscoe’s throat in the same fashion.
His other hand held a gun…aimed straight at Deke.
“I can slit his throat and shoot you in the head before you can move,” he warned.
My pulse fluttered at his calm demeanor.
Finn stood behind Moscoe and just off to the side enough that I could see how relaxed he looked. Like this was no big deal to him.
The thought was terrifying.
And oddly, I felt my belly begin to warm.
God, I was a fucking idiot.
“You’re tougher than I took you for,” Moscoe said. His slimy voice shook a little bit, and knowing he was nervous made me smile.
“The men you sent were bigger pussies than you probably figured they were.”
Men? My eyes widened as I realized Finn had taken out not just one man…but more than that. And where were they? Why weren’t there cops and sirens?
Moscoe grinned, his eyes narrowed into slits. I could practically feel the venom he spewed at me in words. “You’ll be dead for this. My men, my crew find out who took me out, and you’ll never live.”
Finn laughed. It was low and dark and eerie-sounding. “You have severely underestimated your enemies this time around, Moscoe. Anything you want to say before you die?”
Moscoe sneered but stayed silent.
Deke spun me, and I flinched as his arm tightened around my throat. Hot, sticky blood trailed down my skin, but I was aware enough of what was going on to know my jeans were still pushed down my thighs.
Humiliation flooded my skin and my knees shook, but I kept my eyes focused on Finn. His lips pulled into a thin line that I could barely make out in the darkness as he looked down at my legs.
“Let her go,” he said coolly.
The grip on my neck tightened. “Sorry. I believe I’m under orders to get her out of this town, regardless of the cost.”
The smugness in his voice made my skin crawl. He shifted, pulling me away from the wall but keeping his chest against my back. His now soft dick slapped against my butt and I cringed.
“Finn,” I whispered, my voice tight and thick from fear and the knife still against my skin.
Images of my death—of Brayden growing up without parents—flooded my head and a sob escaped my throat.
Finn didn’t look at me. I didn’t even know if he’d heard me say his name, my throat was so dry. Adrenaline and fear pounded in my ears to the rapid beat of a bass drum.
“You’re going to let us go,” Deke said slowly as his knees knocked into mine, pushing me forward.
He shifted again and my knees buckled, pulling me off balance.
The blade slit my throat and I cried out and fell backward into Deke.
He stumbled on his feet and shifted.
My ears barely registered the succinct pop pop pop.
And then I was on the cement. A hot, sticky mess covered my cheek and blood ran down the side of my face.
“Meg!” Finn shouted, rushing toward me.
I blinked and lifted a hand, brushing a sticky wetness out of my eye.
“Meg.” Finn’s face came into view and his hands gripped my shoulders.
“Holy shit!” I gasped and rolled to my side. I felt a lump beneath me and vaguely realized I was rolling over Deke’s legs.
“It’s okay,” Finn said and helped me to my feet.
I wavered and closed my eyes. The walls around me spun so fast and bright I could see them even with my eyes closed.
Hands touched my legs and my eyes flew open.
“Stop it!” I screamed, and swatted the hands away. Shame flooded me as I looked down and registered what was happening.
Finn was on his knees in front of me, pulling up my jeans.
“Let me help,” he whispered softly, as if afraid of scaring me. He didn’t look at me. My eyes flew to the sky and my hands covered my face until I felt him shift and heard the zipper of my jeans move up.
I sobbed into my hands, the reality of everything that had just happened crashing down around me.
I couldn’t stop.
I couldn’t even look to see what had happened.
“You’re bleeding,” Finn said, and his hand was at my throat. I stiffened from his touch, but he didn’t let me pull away. He pressed a warm cotton cloth against my cut skin. “Hold this.”
Slowly, my hands dropped from my face and I caught the blood and tears mixed together all over my hands.
I held them up. “Whose?” I asked, unable to finish the sentence.
“Not yours.”
My eyes snapped to Finn’s.
He nodded, a blank expression on his face. “What?”
My head spun and then I looked down.
At my feet was Deke. Pants low on his hips, the small knife he’d had pressed to my throat was dropped from his open hand and blood pooled around his body.
I blinked and saw his face.
Then I leaned over and threw up.
Finn’s arm was around my waist, a warm material at my throat as he hoisted me into his arms. “Hold this against your neck, it will help stop the bleeding until I can get a better look at you.”
I choked over the vomit still in my throat.
Nothing would ever erase the sight I had just seen—what I had just been a part of—
What had almost happened to me.
I obeyed Finn and moved my hand until I realized my shoulder was brushing against warm skin.
He’d given me the shirt off his back. Literally. And I was holding it against my throat.
I closed my eyes and whispered, “You killed him.”
His arms shifted my weight as he kept walking. Based on the light shining behind my closed my eyes, I knew we were out of the alley.
“I killed both of them,” Finn said, his voice unaffected at the thought of taking two lives. “I’d do it again, too.”
I tried to take a moment and figure out what that meant—how he’d killed two men before I even knew what happened.
But I couldn’t.
I felt adrenaline crash my body and my shoulders shook.
A sob escaped my throat as if it was being torn out of my vocal chords.
And then everything went black.
23 Finn
“We should get out of here,” I told Johnny.
I’d fought off two men inside the shitty Italian restaurant…a mess that took all the money I had on me to pay for the workers’ silence. The gun pointed at the teenaged waiter probably helped.
But I didn’t know if we’d taken care of everyone Moscoe had brought with him.
“Were you followed?” he asked, and I shook my head. “Then we’ll leave first thing in the morning. It doesn’t make sense to get on the road when Meg and Brayden are both totally out of it.”
It did make sense. I needed to get away.
Every time I blinked I saw Meg’s jeans wrapped around her knees. She’d been touched. Meg had been violated in some way, and I hadn’t been quick enough to keep her safe.
I might have kept her alive…but I still didn’t protect her. And that was what my job had been.
Instead, I’d failed. Again.
I’d allowed myself to get so wrapped up in Meg and hearing that she gave me her heart, only to take it back, I’d gotten so pissed I could barely see straight. She thr
ew me off my game and she’d been the one to pay.
Just like Piper.
Ryker was going to kick my ass.
I deserved every punch, every kick, and every pounding he would give me. Not only had I done the one thing he’d told me not to do, I’d left her alone in a fucking dark alley when we fucking knew Moscoe was closing in.
If the club didn’t strip me of my cut and beat me until I was lying in the alley, dead, just like that fucker I’d seen almost rape Meg, I’d be a lucky man.
Too bad luck had never been on my side.
“I need to get out of here,” I muttered and ran my hands down my face.
Johnny’s hand reached and grabbed my arm. “You need to stay. It’s you she’s gonna want to see when she wakes up. How’s her cut, anyway?”
“Not deep. She probably won’t need stitches, but we’ll get Doc to look at it tomorrow anyway.”
He fucking hated working for us. Only did it because he’d at one time been friends with Daemon’s dad, Bull, the former president of the club. But the man had loyalty, and we took advantage of it at every possible opportunity.
Hell. I couldn’t get the image out of my mind when I’d come back to the alley to take Meg home.
I knew it was a mistake to walk away from her the moment I did it.
It wasn’t just because she got my cock harder than anyone I’d ever been with.
It wasn’t just because I wanted to lose myself in her tight little body or the way she clung to me like I was her salvation.
And it wasn’t just because she was a fucking job, like she thought.
I knew it because every time Meg fucking laughed, something inside me cracked.
I can’t give my heart to someone who won’t give me theirs.
The problem was, she didn’t know she already had mine. I had never been brave enough to tell her, but I hadn’t realized it until she’d said the words.
Then I’d been so dumbfounded and shocked—and then pissed when she immediately took it away—that I wasn’t thinking clearly.
“You should go check on her,” Johnny said. He plopped down on the couch, his boots on the table, and crossed his ankles.