Anger flowed through my body like fire. I was no longer forcing myself to act like the quiet and meek woman who had been in that precinct only a handful of weeks before.
This woman had been here too.
Troy just hadn’t known it.
Pure silence followed my words.
Utter silence.
Obviously my yelling had meant that everyone in the open-plan bullpen had heard my words, my accusations. I had Troy in a bind, I knew. I watched the fury and resignation mix in his eyes.
There was an echoed slow clap from behind me.
“Bravo,” Lucky yelled. “Bra-fucking-vo.”
Gage was released.
I was swallowed by that same sea of leather I’d waded through, Lucky being the first one to yank me into his arms. Well, the only one, since he was the only one exuberant—and suicidal—enough to do such a thing to Gage’s old lady, but I did get smirks and nods of approval.
“Didn’t know you had it in you,” Brock muttered with a smile.
“I did,” the scary and attractive Bull said with a knowing mouth twitch.
But that was silenced with the slam of a door and a change in the air.
My eyes found Gage’s immediately.
No, those eyes weren’t entirely his.
They were filled with something else.
Something so menacing that every single man who’d been crowding around me collectively stepped back to clear a path. Some of the most dangerous men in the country stepped out of the way because of a look.
I didn’t.
Even though it terrified me.
He stalked toward me with the grace and purpose of a panther.
I expected him to snatch me into his arms, drag me from the precinct.
But he didn’t.
He stopped in front of me. And not inches away, snatching my personal space and taking it for himself as he normally did, but a good two feet away, like I had some kind of force field around me.
His entire form was iron.
His stare melted into me for thirty-eight seconds.
I counted.
Because that’s how long I lost my breath for.
His eyes released me and went to someone behind me. “You bring my bike?”
“Surely did” was Lucky’s cheerful response, but even it held a slight bit of apprehension.
Gage’s eyes snatched me back into his possession. “Lauren. Get your ass on the fucking bike. Now.”
“Brother, maybe you should—” Brock stepped forward, as if to come to my aid. As if he, one of the big and scary bikers, was afraid for me.
Gage’s eyes didn’t move. “Tell me one thing I should be doing to my woman, I’ll shoot you,” he promised, not seeming to mind that we were in the middle of a police station.
There was a heavy pause.
“Ass on the bike, Lauren.”
I turned to get my ass on the bike.
I shook the whole ride.
Actually shook.
From fear. And from arousal.
Because something in Gage had snapped.
It should’ve made me want to run.
But I wanted to see it. Feel it.
And then we were in my apartment. I wasn’t entirely sure how we got there; it was all a blur of Gage damn near ripping me off the bike and dragging me up the stairs. He let me go the second we reached the living room, and then he started pacing.
I stood in the middle of the room, still, waiting.
“You’re going to fucking regret this,” he growled, stalking toward me with such menace that I backed up, hitting the wall roughly, the wood hindering my retreat.
He caged me in, his entire presence a prison, towering over me as his palms rested on the wall behind me.
“Regret what?” I whispered.
He leaned forward, his hair like a waterfall around his beautifully savage face. “Making me fall in love with you,” he murmured.
My body froze like someone had poured ice water on me and my cells were too shocked to react for a split second. Then they did, and warmth spread to my toes as my heart beat in my throat.
“How did I make you?” I choked out.
His eyes searched mine. “You fucking looked at me, baby.”
I swallowed, my stomach a mess of elation and fear. “And why am I going to regret it?”
His hand moved from the wall to circle my neck. “Because, baby, I’m not gonna love you gentle, or sweet, or in a way that’s gonna make you happy. I’m too fucked up for that. I’m gonna love you the only way I know how, the only way this fucked-up soul lets me. It’s gonna be hard. Brutal. Maybe unpleasant. And I’m not gonna fucking let you go. So you might regret it because this isn’t what movies or books promise a girl like you. What a girl like you dreams of. What a girl like you deserves. No, it’s gonna be the stuff of nightmares.”
The words echoed around us for a long while, hitting me constantly with their weight. With their glorious weight and ugly truth.
He just stared at me, making good on his promise that he’d never let me go.