Reign A Romance Anthology - Nina Levine Page 0,289

area is in darkness, yet some fucker will be manning it. I set my phone to Facetime, and Rhett comes into view. He knows to shut his mouth and not say anything. He is recording everything for me—a plan he came up with after Mum filled him in.

I slow to a crawl and then a dark figure steps into the middle of the road and then walks back to the edge. My headlights shine in his eyes, the biker squints yet doesn’t back down. Ink covers his entire face and half of his bald head except for one long piece of hair hanging to the side. A leather jacket conceals large shoulders, amongst other things I am sure. His stance is wide. One hand rests near his pocket. There’s no doubt, these guys are packing heat and a lot of it. Shit, I’m lucky he didn’t shoot considering I’m in an unknown vehicle. I hit the brake when I’m alongside him and lower the window enough for him to hear me.

He shines a torch directly in my eyes. “What the fuck do you want?” he growls.

“I’m here for Star.”

The laugh that erupts from his chest reminds me of a hyena. “Fuck off.” His hand disappears into his coat pocket.

“The police know I’m here.” I look straight ahead, maintaining an at-ease persona, to the haze of lights the club is projecting into the night sky over the tall brick fence. “The police in South Australia have also been alerted.” I don’t look at him, although I catch every movement out the corner of my eye. As an elite athlete, that’s what I train for—to be aware and ready for your opponent to attack.

“Pigs don’t scare us,” he snarls.

“If you believe you can simply dispose of me, then I suggest you think twice,” I warn without looking at him. “The interstate police are aware you’re keeping Star against her will. They also believe I’ll be bringing her back with me.”

“There’s no fucking way—”

I turn and glare at him. “She. Is. Coming. With. Me.” My teeth grind out the words individually.

The arsehole pulls out a gun and points it at my head.

Fuck!

I damn well hope Rhett is getting all of this.

Sweat runs down the back of my neck, but I ignore it as though the gun pointed at my temple is not even there.

My heartbeat is relentless, and if he looked, he’d notice every beat like a punch to my chest.

My thoughts begin to scramble, but I rein them in. “See that,” I announce.

He leans closer to check where I’m pointing.

Perfect.

We’ve got an image of the fucker’s face on my phone.

With a deadpan expression, Rhett waves at him in a condescending way yet says nothing.

“He is recording everything, and now he’s captured your identity.”

“You cunt—”

“Let’s cut a deal. Since your club can’t afford further implications, especially after Phoenix’s death, I suggest you call your boss and have Star out the front waiting when I drive up. Otherwise, this guy…” I poke a finger Rhett’s way, “… only has to make one call, and the cops will be here in a matter of minutes.” I push his gun away from my face with a snarl while the arsehole’s lips turn up as though he’s going to tear me a new one. I point to my phone again sounding impatient this time. “Call your president.”

“I don’t give two fucks what you want. You may be a fucking football star, but that means nothin’ around here.” Spittle flies from his mouth as he roars out his words.

I wipe his spit from my face. “Is that right? Your club sponsors my club and pays for corporate seats. My football club has a history with yours…” I change tact and speak forcefully, “… which will end when you’re exposed to the entire league. It mightn’t be what you want, considering your boss’s boss obviously enjoys the game.”

He steps back and spits on my car.

Big. Fucking. Hero.

The arsehole pulls out his phone and makes the call I’ve been waiting for. He steps into a small structure behind the trees I didn’t notice previously.

Minutes pass.

The gate opens in the distance.

A car speeds toward me.

Fuck, do I stay or take off?

Headlights blind me, and I raise an arm to shield my eyes.

“What’s going on?” Rhett asks.

“A car is coming right at me. I can’t see anything with its fucking high beam directed at me. Are you getting all this?”

“Yep. Got the dipshit’s face, too. My phone is recording it all, and