fighters,” Dee’s saying, sounding ticked off. “He said they’re making trouble for one of the girls. One of the assholes broke a girl’s arm.”
Dragon curses loudly.
“I need Monica to fill in for her,” Dee adds.
She’s talking about The Devil’s Den, I realize. I glance back, worry pricking me. I hope Sam wasn’t the one who got hurt.
“Fine,” Dragon growls, “Diesel can take her back there. “Spider,” Dragon calls, and Spider stops at the door to the women’s bathroom, looking over his shoulder at him. “I need you and Striker at The Den with Diesel, taking care of whatever shit those fighters are stirring up. Pip’ll go on with the thief to the hospital.”
“Sure, Prez.”
I resist the urge to shake my head. I don’t think Dragon’s ever called me by name.
Striker disappears into the men’s room with Ben. Spider opens the door to the women’s, but instead of checking the place out, he steps in and lets the door swing shut, standing with his arms crossed, waiting.
A woman comes out of one of the stalls and looks at him with surprise that quickly turns to a scandalized expression when she realizes he intends to stay there. I glance up to see his grin, and watch her scrub her hands and then scurry out without even drying them. She’s probably too afraid to confront a huge tattooed biker who looks like he could eat her for breakfast.
“Well, get on with it,” he says, nodding to the stalls. “Unless you want me to make use of the alone time we have.”
“You’re going to stand there?” I squeak. “Spider, this is a girl’s bathroom, get out!”
“No.” His smile is wide and makes my knees wobble.
There’s no other door and no window in this bathroom, so I wouldn’t be able to leave, yet he remains waiting by the only entrance, blocking it since I don’t hear his footsteps. Either he doesn’t care that someone else might see him in here and raise a stink, or he doesn’t think anyone would have the guts to say anything. It’s probably both.
I huff and stalk into one of the stalls, unable to help thinking again of the Colony. I do my business, detesting that Spider can hear me whimper in pain when I sit.
“Painful, Wildcat?”
I grit my teeth and hardly believe the words that come out of my mouth, words I must have heard the women and him say often enough at the clubhouse.
“Fuck off.”
Spider roars with laughter, and I can hear the shock in it.
I flush and stomp out. I don’t hear him move. As soon as I wash my hands and dry them under the dryer, he grabs my wrist. He yanks me over to an empty space on the wall, spins me so that my back is to him, and shoves me against it.
Left to assume he’s angry at my mouthing off, I gasp and twist in his grip, panicked. His fingers tighten around the back of my neck, forcing me to keep my cheek pressed to the rough brick.
His fingers loosen when I go still, but he leaves his palm on my nape. “Is that any way for a pastor’s daughter to talk?” But his voice is a low growl, mocking and amused, and not at all angry.
Unsure what he’s going to do, I don’t dare push him. Instead, I pant and wait him out. He brushes my hair from my face and shoulders with that unsettling gentleness.
“You’re becoming quit the mouthy little Wildcat. It’s hot, you know.”
“Spider…”
“What was it you called me the other night? A lowlife piece of shit?” A little anger, or maybe desire, roughens his voice as he slides his hand around my waist to my front.
My breathing quickens.
He pushes my shirt up and opens the front of my pants.
The panic rising in me turns to mingled humiliation and fear. No matter how he takes me, it’s going to hurt. I picture his pelvis rubbing painfully against my welted backside, and I squirm.
“Spider, no,” I whimper, pushing his hand away. “Please, I’m still sore.”
“And you think I give a fuck?” He shakes my hand off. “Hands behind your back.”
My heart hammers hard, my eyes watering. “Please… Don’t…” But my hands clasp together at my back.
Letting out a low, hungry rumble, he slips his hand slowly down the front of my pants and into my panties. Shame scalds me as two of his fingers toy with my clit, barely touching the already aching nub.
“Do you know how hard I am right