The sound of his voice alone sets my teeth on edge.
He’s the only danger around here but he thinks he’s so fucking slick, sitting there and forcing me to back down like this is some fucking game of dominance. There’s no fucking way. I’m not ever going to lie down and submit to some piece of shit man ever again.
Fucking never.
I keep my mouth shut for the rest of dinner, nodding my way through his incessant prattling on about nothing and how important he is. Fuck, just listening to him you’d think he was the dean and he keeps dropping names into the conversation except I know and care about exactly none of them.
He doesn’t notice.
When he’s finally finished with his steak burger and fries, a large root beer float, and freaking dessert he pays for dinner and doesn’t tip the waitress. I want to claw his eyeballs out for that, the girl was great to us the whole time, but instead I try to get out of the diner in front of him to get a head start.
He catches up to me easily, putting a hand on the door to stop me from leaving.
“It’s early. You should come back to my place."
It’s four in the morning. I shake my head before the words are completely out of his mouth. "I just want to go home and sleep."
The grin on his face just gets wider. "Come on now, Angel. I'm sure you can throw in a freebie. Consider it payment for my silence."
I grit my teeth. "I thought dinner was my payment?"
"Dinner was something nice I was doing for you. Didn't your parents teach you any manners? Do they even know where you are?”
I take a deep breath. Then I take two more. How badly do I need this job? Enough to have sex with this man? Fuck. There's only one thing I'd rather do less than that, and that's to go back to the home I’m running from.
There are other strip clubs.
Now I know what I can make, I'll just head to a bigger city. Might be easier than hiding out in this tiny ass town and finding places to sleep will probably be easier too. Shit. There are other options, just not as comfortable as The Boulevard.
I can make it work.
I just need to figure out how the hell to get away from him now.
I give him a half-smile. I can’t even fake anything bigger than that. I’d noticed a gas station on the corner of the block, I’ll fucking fake nice and make a run for it down there. I’m in great shape thanks to all of the acrobatics I’m getting in with my dancing so unless he’s a regular runner, I should be able to make it.
“Good choice. We could make this a regular thing, I’ve enjoyed our time together so far.”
He steps out of the restaurant ahead of me, his eyes on me the entire time, and I have to control my breathing. He’s still too close to me. He could touch me, grab me, drag me by my fucking hair. I have to keep my shit together for a little longer.
Then he stops dead.
I glance up and find Tomi standing next to Finley's car, his face thunderous and fucking pissed. I'm scared for a second, he's not exactly the nicest of the bikers I've been around and the 1% badge is there on his cut like a badge of pride, but then Finley puts his arm around me and my skin begins to crawl.
I'd do anything to get him to stop.
Even throw myself at Tomi and pray he’s feeling merciful.
"Hey man, I think you're scaring the girl. Maybe you should back up a bit."
I stay rooted to the spot, my knees locked up with terror at his touch, and Tomi looks me over.
"Angel, get your ass over here now."
The spell is broken just like that.
I take a single step, trying to shrug Finley's arm off, and his hand clamps down on my shoulder. My mind starts to white out with terror, his fingers tightening until I know there’ll be bruises, and a weird squeak pops out of me.
Tomi moves fast for such a big guy.
One second I'm standing there freaking shaking and the next I'm stumbling towards the car, Tomi shoving me away from Finley as he smashes his face open with his fist.
I keep walking until I find Tomi's motorcycle, careful not to touch it because I know bikers can be weird about that but I stand there in my yoga pants and old band tee until he's done beating the shit outta the creep.
When he walks back over to me, his knuckles a freaking mess and blood splattered all over his shirt, his face is still fierce. I stare at the blood to try to distract myself from that anger.
I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong.
For the looks he’s giving me, it’s bad.
"Was he a John? I thought you'd dress a little better for that shit?"
That gets my attention. My mouth runs before I really think about what I’m saying. “Are you serious right now? Are you fucking kidding me?"
He glares at me, his brows drawing down even more. "I hope he wasn't your boyfriend because he's not gonna be happy when you get your ass home."
I blow out a frustrated breath and hug myself, the heat of the night doing nothing to ease the chill in my blood. "I'm not doing extra. He was an asshole who wouldn't take no for an answer. What was I supposed to do? He was leaning on my car at The Boulevard and I could either say yes or get beaten to death."
He turns to look back at the puddle of blood Finley left behind but he's crawled off somewhere else while we were distracted. "You coulda called."
I shrug. "Diamond would've hung up on me. Hell, I think any of the girls would. I’m not exactly popular.“
Tomi stalks past me and climbs onto his bike, grabbing a helmet out of the pack and holding it out to me. "Get your ass on."
Oh God.
I've never been on a motorcycle before but I don’t need experience to know there's no way to stay on it without wrapping myself around him. My nerves are already shot to hell and he's going to know exactly how fucking terrified I am if I do.
"Get on, for fuck's sake, I have work to do that isn't chasing around after dumbass strippers all fucking night."
My feet move at the command in his voice and the self-loathing starts roiling in my gut. I’ve gotten better at shoving that shit aside to function but there’s something about his voice that breaks the tethers.
Can't fucking do anything right.
Always fucking trouble.
Be better for everyone if you were fucking dead, Angel.
Why can’t you just fucking disappear?
It's all in my own voice too. It's not like anyone else is saying it to me because even Paul didn't say that shit to me. No, he told me how pretty I was. He told me all about how much of a special girl I really was, all while he was breaking me open and playing around with my insides until I was a fucking shell.
He might have thought I was special, but I know for sure that I'm worthless.
"Jesus fucking Christ, put your foot on mine and swing your leg. Right, hold onto me. No, hold onto me properly. Fuck, you've really never done this before, have you?”
It's like an echo of the shit in my head and maybe that's part of my trauma because that roiling feeling settles down a little. He hates me like I hate me and maybe that's comforting.
I sit there and hold him as tight as he asks me to, my entire body crushed against his. He drives like he wants us both to die, the motorcycle eating up the road like a fucking beast, and I don’t have time to think about how freaking scared I am to be this close to him.