More laughter, and I shake my head. I think on some level Scar knows I’m full of shit, but he’s going along with it anyway.
First things first, we go out to do recon. We scope out the joint, and a few of us infiltrate the event. Not approaching as an army, but as potential customers. Luckily for us, tattooed musclebound dudes wearing a whole lot of leather aren’t a rarity here, so we are able to hide in plain sight.
The ‘show’ starts. And I can see my girl in the wings. “Gentlemen, gentlemen,” a sleezy man in a suit shouts out, no microphone because a shitty place like this doesn’t exactly have a PA system. “Tonight we got some very special girls that you’re all going to be happy to spend big bucks to have first-time exclusive access to!”
I grit my teeth, watching my girl in the shadows alongside the other women that are being treated as products to be bid on tonight. She’s sobbing, tears streaming down her face, and the same can be said of the others. As much as I feel for the other girls, my focus is intensely on her.
“First up, we have the lovely and precocious Sasha…” the faux-MC shouts, and some musclebound idiot drags the young woman onto the stage. What she’s wearing can generously be called a dress, if you have no standards of decency whatsoever. She’s bawling her eyes out. This Sasha may not be the object of my fascination, but she’s going to endure a terrible fate if I stand by and do nothing. But I’m waiting for Scar’s signal. “Do I hear ten thousand?”
“Ten thousand!” a voice next to me shouts out. It’s some suit-wearing asshole. I glare at him. He looks at me. “What?”
I just stare, wishing my disapproval had the ability to kill.
“You think ten thousand is too much?” He follows my eyes to my girl in the wings and smirks. “Oh, damn, look at the knockers on that one. Maybe you’re right, maybe I better save my money.”
He’s talking about my girl.
And it’s enough to make me act without thinking, damn waiting for Scar’s call.
My fist goes sailing right into this asshole’s nose.
Security moves in, but my brothers are quick to act, striking them down too, using fists before guns. The bullet-free battle doesn’t last forever though, as someone starts firing.
The entire event falls apart. The girls are screaming, as are some of the men. Most of the buyers are cowards, fleeing the scene at the first sign of conflict. I run toward the stage, toward my woman. She’s looking right at me, her eyes wide and white, shocked at what she’s seeing in front of her. I scoop her right up and over my shoulder and high-tail it out of the crowd. More than anything, I want to make sure she’s safe.
The other girls are swept up too, my brothers taking my cue to get the innocents out of the line of fire before anything else goes wrong.
“Run, run, you motherfuckers!” Scar shouts as the chaos erupts around him, throwing punches along the way. “You're going to do this bullshit in my town, you’re going to end up with assholes full of lead!”
I can’t help but smile at his gusto. I’m proud to call him my president.
Once we’re out of harm’s way, I put my girl down, still utterly exasperated. “Who… who are you?” she stammers.
“The name’s Blaze. And you may be married, but you’re mine.”
6
BAYLEE
The biker is here, and this hero is more real than I ever imagined. He helps me me onto the back of his motorcycle as I look at him in awe. He’s a whole lot hotter up close, but the rushing in to rescue me from having my virtue sold off to some creepy old guy is likely coloring my opinion a bit.
Gunfire rings out from the crowd. Blaze climbs onto the bike. “I didn’t go through all that to let you get hit with a random bullet. We’re getting out of here, we can talk later.”
With that, he revs the bike, and he peels out onto the road. Never having been on a motorcycle before, I wrap my arms around him in utter fear of falling off.
He’s thick. Muscular, but also like a teddy bear in a way. Holding onto him fills me with a safety I haven’t felt in quite some time. It’s like whiplash compared to how incredibly vulnerable I felt mere minutes ago.
I’m being driven away from that whole cruel mess. Away from my father’s sick whims, and the exploitation by Uncle Jericho. And unlike all the times I ran away alone, I don’t think Blaze is going to allow them to drag me back again.
It’s so weird. I have no reason to believe this so strongly. I barely know him. I had laid eyes on him in a couple moments of weakness, imagining him as some sort of hero figure. Yet here he is. Being that hero. The hero I need.