And she's chosen me.
Mia takes a step forward, heels loud on the pavement, towering almost a full foot above me. God, I hate being short sometimes. I square my shoulders and straighten my spine, raising my chin and giving her my most stoic look, the one I use on men that think they can throw their height around and intimidate me.
“You've already helped me—right off the Alpha Wolves Compound. Right out of Royal McBride's bed.”
“If I'm not mistaken, it was you who threw the first punch,” I say, trying to take in the three girls behind Mia—all of them taller than me. There's a redhead with gorgeous ruby curls and porcelain skin, and two slim tanned brunettes—one with a short bob and the other with gentle shining waves. They all look pissed, personally pissed, like I've managed to offend each and every one of their delicate sensibilities. “So if we're assigning blame here, then it was actually you that got yourself thrown off the compound.”
“Do you think you're fucking clever?” Mia asks with a sneer building on her glossy red lips, flicking a hand up and smacking me in the chest. “With your suits and your fancy car? You come sauntering into our place and manage to snag the president for yourself, huh? You must feel pretty accomplished.”
A flush of irritation colors me as I flick my eyes toward the front doors of the building, praying that nobody comes out and sees this confrontation. This is the last thing I need right now, some sort of catfight in the mayor's parking lot. And the fact that said catfight has everything to do with a one-percenter outlaw MC president? Not good. Things like this, if caught on video, can permanently ruin a career.
“Listen, Mia, I can understand how you're feeling,” I start, annoyance clear in my tone. I try to hold it back, but I'm not exactly a saint. I can only take so much in one week before I start to crack a little. “But I'm not out to get you, okay? Royal's a big boy, perfectly capable of making his own decisions. If you have something you need to say to him, why don't you speak with him directly?”
Mia's face twists with rage, turning her pretty mask into something ugly for a split second before she smiles wickedly.
“Because I have something else in mind.”
Before I can react, she's reaching out and grabbing me by the front of my dress shirt, buttons popping as she yanks me forward, her friends closing in and dragging me behind the building and out of sight of the parking lot in less than a second.
Several thoughts flash through my mind as the sea foams and thrashes to my left, the grass beneath me coming up towards my face in an emerald blur as I pitch forward. I have my Glock in my purse, I think as I hit the ground with my knees, the impact hard and jarring, making my teeth crash together painfully. Using that here is probably a really bad idea.
Hands go to my hair, snap my head back with a painful snap as Mia comes around to stand in front of me, a flash of silver in her long, slender fingers.
She has a fucking knife.
See why the F-word is my new favorite thing?
“What the hell are you doing?” I gasp as the hands in my hair yank harder, make my eyes flicker with stars. I reach back, dragging my nails down the soft tender flesh of wrists as I thrash and struggle in the awkward position. “Don't do something you might regret, Mia.”
“Oh, believe me, I'll be treasuring this moment for a long time to come.”
She comes at me then, and I think she's going for my throat. I draw my hands back, wrapping my fingers around the exposed flesh as Mia looms over me and kicks me hard in the stomach, the breath exploding from my lungs in a rush. The pointed toe of her leather Harley-Davidson boot digs into my gut as she takes a second blow, clearly enjoying the moment as her purple earrings swing and she leans over, putting the knife to my hair. With a rough, vulgar sawing motion, she cuts at my hair until there's a sudden release and I'm pitching forward.
I twist as I fall, turning onto my back and using both feet to kick at the redhead who was holding onto me. I manage to her in the knees, knocking her down before the brunettes get over to me, grabbing my arms and pinning me to the grass.
In the fall of buttery yellow sunshine that's oh so inappropriately decided to deign us with its presence, I see a flutter of chocolate waves drifting in the breeze, strands of my hair catching air and tumbling over the edge of the seaside cliff.
Mia smirks as she avoids my flailing feet and comes around to crouch next to her friends, reaching out with the knife and casually drawing a sharp line of red across my cheek.
I hiss at the pain, the metal slicing my flesh open like a hot knife through butter.
“You're not made for this life, Rentz. You're the mayor's daughter. You work for the mayor. A girl like you doesn't belong in the life, doesn't belong with the president of an outlaw motorcycle club.” I'm smart enough to stop fighting when she reaches for the other cheek. Thrashing as she cuts me will only make things worse.