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“Right,” he snorts, leaning forward. “More like you’re thinking about which biker you’ll hop on next.”
I think he’s fucking around with me until I realize how malicious his tone is. He wasn’t joking. He wasn’t fucking with me in the least bit.
I blink, taken aback as I still process this information. “Sorry, what did you just say?”
“Don’t play dumb, Jordyn. I’ve seen the way you look at them. Like you’re just waiting for one of them to scoop you up.”
“That’s not fair,” I snap, my hands curling into fists under the table. “They’re my family, Blake. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, but don’t I?” His words are slurred, venomous. The Blake I thought I knew slips further away with each passing second.
“You’re drunk,” I mutter, standing up.
The room spins for a moment, the mix of anger and alcohol making my head swim.
“Sit down,” he commands, grabbing my wrist.
His grip is tight, too tight.
“Let fucking go of me,” I hiss, yanking my arm free.
The bar seems to quiet around us, eyes turning our way. But I don’t care. I need air. I need out.
“Running away again?” Blake taunts, but I don’t bite. I push past him, heading for the door, the night air calling my name.
“Jordyn, you’d better get the fuck back here.” His voice is sharp, cutting through the haze in my mind.
Against my better judgment, I stop and turn around. “Blake, what the hell do you want?” My patience is hanging by a thread, but his smirk slices right through it.
“Just wanted to let you know,” he starts, leaning back against the bar like he’s got all the time in the world. “You’re good for nothing except being safe pussy to use and abuse whenever I want it.”
My jaw drops.
Did he really just say that?
“Yeah, you heard me,” he continues, eyes darkening with malice. “Not that I even know if you’re safe. You’re probably some biker slut anyway.”
“Excuse me?” The words are out before I can process the full weight of what he’s just said.
The room seems to close in on us, the rest of the patrons fading into a blur.
“That’s right. Biker. Slut,” he spits the last word like it’s poison on his tongue.
“Fuck you, Blake.” The anger is boiling over now. I’ve had enough. I turn to leave again, but before I can take another step, a blur of movement catches my eye.
Bam! A fist collides with Blake’s jaw, sending him staggering backward.
What the?—
“Bama?” My voice is shaky, disbelieving.
I didn’t even know he was here.
“Stay out of this,” Blake snarls, recovering quickly and lunging forward.
“Like hell I will,” Bama growls back, his ocean-blue eyes locked on Blake with a deadly intensity.
His slim, athletic frame moves with a lethal grace as he squares up, ready for more.
