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Cassie looked at the vehicles zipping down the road. Then she glanced at her phone. Cassie squinted at the screen, then sighed, exasperated. The driver had apparently messaged her, asking her to meet one street over instead, because it was less crowded.
“Nothing’s going my way tonight,” Cassie grumbled to herself.
She started walking and soon enough heard footsteps echoing behind her. The hairs across her arms rose. Cassie experimented crossing the road and the same set of footsteps hadn’t disappeared.
She was being followed and Cassie suddenly felt incredibly exposed and vulnerable. Cassie crossed her arms across her chest, as if that would protect her. A woman in a too-short red dress and stilettos, wandering the city streets close to midnight was a perfect target for predators.
Wait. She had her purse. Cassie fumbled inside her tiny sequined bag. With sinking trepidation, Cassie realized she left her pepper spray back at the apartment. Why had she done that? The answer soon came to her. Cassie knew she’d be with her friends all night. She’d assumed there would be safety in numbers. What a fool.
“Where are you going, pretty girl?” a man called out from behind her.
Don’t look, keep walking. The next street and your waiting driver will be there, not far. Cassie didn’t listen to her own advice.
She looked over her shoulder and lo and behold, the three bikers were behind her, sniggering and making rude gestures at her. The gleam in their eyes told Cassie they had awful plans for her.
Cassie started walking a little faster. She nearly tripped on an empty soda can but managed to hold onto a streetlamp for balance. Heart thudding, she kicked off her heels. She broke into a sprint but a dark shape caught up to her.
One of the bikers shoved her against a graffiti-sprayed wall that smelled of piss, garbage, and other things Cassie didn’t want to think about.
“Cassie Quinn, you’re coming with us,” the biker with the cross inked on his left cheekbone said. He looked at her up and down, his gaze lingering on her barely covered breasts. Cassie shuddered in revulsion.
“First, we’ll have some fun,” the biker said.
“No fair, Mac. You’ve already had first dibs on the last bitch,” the sandy-haired biker next to Mac argued.
“Let us go first once in a while,” the third biker said.
This wasn’t the first time they did this, Cassie thought with a sinking feeling. Mac wasn’t listening to any of them, he was already taking off his pants. Mac eyed her, still frozen in place, her legs shaking in fear.
Her dad taught her to shoot when she was a kid but she left her gun back at her apartment. Useless.
“You’re going to be a good girl, Princess?” Mac asked. “Make it easy or hard on yourself, it doesn’t matter to us, as long as we have a good time.”
Cassie gathered her nerves and spat on him—which was probably a bad move in the first place. Mac narrowed his eyes at her and raised one hand. He probably intended to strike her but a fourth voice interrupted them.
“Three fine fellas like yourselves picking on one defenseless woman? The Devil’s Kings MC sure have fallen low,” a voice drawled. A voice Cassie hadn’t heard in a long time.
“Randall,” Cassie whispered.
A mixture of relief and trepidation washed over her. The sweet boy she sometimes still dreamed of was gone, replaced by this hard, grey-eyed man covered in ink and muscle.
“It’s Rage now, Cassie,” Rage said shortly.
Two of the bikers came at him at once. Rage didn’t seem panic or alarmed. He clocked the first right in the face. Bone cracked as Rage broke his nose. Another blow to the ribs sent the man staggering to the ground. Rage pulled out a revolver equipped with a silencer and shot the second man in the stomach. Cassie opened her mouth, unable to silence her scream, but Mac shoved a slimy hand over her mouth.
“Put the gun down or she dies. Can’t let that happen to Breaker’s little princess, can we?” Mac asked Rage with a sneer.
Rage curved his lip upward to an awful smile. Her gut clenched. Cassie had spent her childhood around awful men like her father. Men who didn’t care for the law, who did whatever the hell they wanted. The rest of the world could burn and they’d only laugh it off. Rage had become just like them.
“I don’t care what state I bring her in,” Rage answered.
Cassie did scream then, as Rage shot Mac between the eyes. He didn’t miss. Mac released his hand over her mouth and crumpled at her feet like a doll.
“What did you just do?” Cassie demanded, unable to keep the accusation out of her voice.
Rage stared at her, his expression hard to read. There was certainly no ounce of pity there. Cassie swallowed as old memories resurfaced. She had fantasized about him as boy, sure, but they weren’t friends, had never been.
Back in high school, Randall Cobb had been the kid from the wrong side of the tracks Cassie and her spoiled group of friends used to make fun of. Looking back at those times, Cassie winced. She had uttered plenty of mean and unkind words to a boy she secretly had a thing for, but could never tell her friends how she felt.
