“You’re not being led to your death,” he muttered.
“Sure feels like it. Feels like the death march, the green mile, I wasn’t even given a last supper—”
He stopped and turned to look down at her. “Do you always talk this much?”
She licked her lips. “No. I don’t. I’m guessing it’s that whole marching to my death thing.”
He sighed, crossed his arms over his chest. “We’re an MC club, we don’t murder people.”
She leaned forward, whispering, “that’s what someone who was about to murder a person would say.”
“It is? Got a lot of experience with people wanting to murder you?” The tone of his voice said he could easily believe it.
She rolled her eyes. “No. No one has ever wanted to murder me.”
“First time for everything.”
She narrowed her gaze at him. “You were just trying to convince me that I’m not wheeling towards my death.”
He shrugged. “Maybe I changed my mind.”
She tried to ascertain whether he was joking, but he didn’t show any hint of amusement. She swallowed heavily. Crap. Maybe she should be less annoying.
He turned around.
“You still didn’t tell me your name. Is it something weird? Like Gargamel or Shredder or Murky Dismal?”
“Did you just name characters from The Smurfs, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and what the hell was that last one from?”
“Rainbow Brite. You weren’t a fan?”
He gave her an incredulous look. Whoops.
He stilled in front of a door and knocked.
“So, what’s your name?”
Someone called out to enter. Nerves strummed through her. Maybe she should have attempted to escape. What if these guys were dangerous? What if they were criminals? What if they were going to sell her in some private auction to the highest bidder?
She snorted. Nah, not like they’d get much for her. They’d be better off ransoming her to her brothers. At least they didn’t see all her flaws.
“Girl,” the big guy said in a low voice. “Don’t even think about it.”
She glared up at him. “You can’t tell me what to think.”
He leaned in, grasping hold of the arms of her chair. She shied back with a gasp. He frowned.
“All bravado, aren’t you?” he murmured.
Surprisingly, he smelled rather nice. Almost like the ocean. Cool and calm.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” she retorted.
Don’t show him you’re afraid.
“You stared down the passage with a look of longing and fear on your face,” he told her. “It’s okay to be scared. Normal, even. But no one is gonna hurt you.”
Yeah, right.