Pike (The Pawn Duet #1) - T.M. Frazier Page 0,46

ripped open, and I’m pulled from my seat by a strong set of arms. “Noooo!” I scream.

“Hello, again, Mic.” I look up into familiar dark eyes, burning with rage and something more sadistic.

My skin both heats and crawls.

I look back to the man. One last silent plea for help. One glance tells me that help won’t come. I don’t know the man, yet his betrayal stings, leaving me feeling vulnerable and exposed. Why? I silently ask.

He grins as if he’s an Uber driver hoping for a decent rating. “Because we don’t betray our own here,” he answers, as if the answer is that simple to him. “Besides, just like my son, Bo, Pike’s not so bad once you get past all the scary shit.” He thinks for a minute. “If you can get past the scary shit.” He puts the car in drive. “By the way, I’m Samuel Clearwater. My friends call me Preppy.”

Preppy drives off with a wave. “You two kids have fun!”

Fun. Yeah right. There’s so many possibilities of what will happen now, but fun most certainly isn’t one of them.

Pike cradles my face in his big rough hands, forcing me to stare up at him. The metal of the handcuffs are cold and rough against my cheeks. “What to do with you now?” he asks, searching my eyes. It’s not his usual warning. I get the feeling he’s not asking me, but posing the question to himself.

Pike slowly walks me backward, hands still on my face, until I’m pressed against the base of one of the large palm trees lining the road.

Preppy is wrong. There will be no getting past the scary shit. Not with Pike. Not now.

Not ever.

But I’ve dealt with my fair share of scary men, and I remind myself that I’m not the frightened girl I once was. I’m strong and capable.

Before I can complete the thought, I act, landing my fist below his ribs. My hand stings. “Bitch,” he breathes, nostrils flaring as he looks down at where my fist is balled.

He wasn’t expecting my punch, so I figure the next will come as even more of a surprise. I swing my left arm up, connecting with the underside of his elbow. His hand falls from my face. Rearing back my head and gritting my teeth, I take a page out of Pike’s book and go for the headbutt. Only, Pike is so much taller than me. I only manage to connect with his chin and cause my vision to momentarily blur.

“Fuck,” he cruses, rubbing his chin.

I duck under his arm and make a run for it. The shell road slicing into my already injured feet. I only manage to make it a few steps before his massive body collides with my back, sending me crashing onto the ground.

I gasp for breath as the wind is knocked out of me. “Still got some fight in you, Mic. We’ll see what we can do to change that.” His breath is low in my ear as my cheek is pressed into the sharp shell.

He raises off me, and I’m finally able to take a full breath. He flips me over, trapping my wrists above his head. His hair falls into his eyes as his gaze drinks me in.

The chill in the air heats. The hairs on my arm stand on end as we stare at one another without saying a word.

Thick silence fills the space between us. The only sound is heavy breathing and my own thudding heartbeat. I count them to measure the time. Ba-boom. One. Ba-boom. Two.

Pike’s dark eyes are pinning me to the ground as much as his hands on my wrists.

Ba-boom. Three.

And then his lips are on mine.

I push back on his chest only to realize I’ve got a fistful of his shirt, and I’m not pushing, but pulling him against me. His lips on mine feel like I think

Evidence of his arousal strains against his jeans, I gasp as it juts against my thigh.

“I told you I like it when you fight back,” he groans against my lips.

He’s so fucking arrogant and so cocky and his lips are heaven and hell. I bite at his lip, drawing blood only to be rewarded with a bite of his own. He rises up and swipes at the red smear on my lip with his thumb, sucking it into his mouth.

He lifts me from the ground so that I’m straddling his lap on the curb. I slap his face so hard my palm