“What's your name, sweetheart?” he asks me. The wind picks up for a moment, blows my red hair around my face and sticks it to my lips. I consider not answering him, but what will that gain me? The club will know I'm missing sooner rather than later, and they'll come looking for me. If negotiations aren't made first. He'll learn my name somehow, someway. Anyway, I might stand a better chance escaping this unscathed if I make him look at me as a person and not an object to be bartered with.
“Tease.” I pause and then add, “Or Emilie Hathorne.” The man stands there staring at me for a long, long moment, his own red hair whirling around in the breeze. After a moment, he takes out a cigarette and puts it between his lips.
“Beck Evans.” He takes a drag and then drops it, crushing it out with the heel of his boot.
“What are you going to do to me, Beck?” I ask, not liking the way the question comes out. Almost like a come-on. “My brother is extremely possessive of me. Right now, you're risking your life having me here. As soon as he finds us, he'll kill you.”
“Bring it on, baby,” Beck says, his voice rough, strained to the edge of breaking. “That's sort of the idea here anyhow. For him to find us. Soon as he does, he gives me back my friend.” Beck shrugs. “I give 'im back his sister.” I start to turn slightly in my seat, but stop when Beck puts his hand on his gun.
“Tax. My brother. He's the President of Seventy-seven Brothers.” I debated with myself, on whether or not I should admit this. But I think it might help my cause. Beck will know I'm worth something for sure. I'm not just an old lady, a bitch for one of the members to keep in his garage, clean his bike, serve his food. I'm blood related, protected over, guarded.
“Well, your brother is a damn fool,” Beck growls out, pulling out his phone again, dialing another number. From the look on his face, still no answer. “If he hadn't given the order to shoot my friend, neither of us would be standing here right now. We might have a couple o' black eyes and some wounded pride, but that would be it. Sugar, your fucking family is going to wish they were dead if they touch one finger to Mel. If she dies on their watch, boy, am I going to lose my shit.”
“What did you do?” I ask him because Darren would never just shoot someone, let alone a woman. In fact, I'm finding myself hard-pressed to imagine a single scenario where my brother would ever condone that. And I know he was there. He said he was going out on this ride today. “What did you do to my family?” I stand up as Beck moves forward, sliding a knife from his pocket and pointing it at my throat.
“I didn't do shit,” he growls, grinding his teeth together. I know it's a terrible moment to say this, but … he has nice lips. A full bottom curve and a bow tie up top. I swallow and lean away from the blade. “We were standing there havin' a nice chat when one of your pussy Brothers shot Melissa fuckin' Diamond right through the back. This is his fault, your piece of shit, pansy ass, loser of a brother.”
“Fuck you!” I scream because Darren is not like that. We are not like that. Seventy-seven Brothers doesn't do things like that. “We would never disrespect another club like that, not unless they'd pushed all our buttons first, threatened us, hurt one of our own. If Tax ordered that, then you must be horrible fucking people.” Beck leans back and tucks his knife away, squeezing his fists so hard, the veins in his hands stand out sharply against his skin. He looks like he wants to hit me, and that's fine. I'm willing to take one for my brothers and sisters. “Respect, dignity, pride, and family. Those are our credos. What are yours? You steal from others and you kill indiscriminately.”
“Indiscriminately? Oh, sugar tits, you are very well misinformed,” Beck drawls, leaning back and putting a wicked slash of a smile across his face. “We killed before to protect ourselves, to protect the rights of our women, to fight for the right to live the way we want.” Beck shakes his head and takes one more step back, scoping me out from head to toe. I can feel his gaze like it's a physical thing, burning through my clothes, eating me up from the inside. I have to swallow three times before I can even speak.
“There are two sides to every story.” I want to ask if my brother is still alive, but I doubt he'd have the answer to that, or if he'd even tell me if he knew. I lean back a little and even though it's not really in my personality, not in my best interest, and certainly a stupid ass fucking thing to do, I check him out. Just the same way he's looking at me.
“All that comin' from an ol' lady? You got a pretty mouth there, lady luck. You want to put it to better use tonight? Pass the time while you wait for your pathetic fuck of a brother to come and barter for your ass?”