Lowlander Silverback(10)

By: T. S. Joyce


“Come on,” she murmured under her breath. Kong could do this. Sure, Harrison was a dominant alpha grizzly shifter, but Kong was…well…Kong. She’d never seen anyone stronger.

Kong jerked his gaze to her, and for an instant, their eyes locked. She could see herself reflected in the churning green there, just before he grunted in pain and took a hard hit to his face.

She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. They were so close, so violent, so powerful, and she was pinned here, unable to escape if she wanted to. And Snakebite was slithering his arm around her waist again.

Kong shoved Harrison and then thundered toward him, powerful legs flexing against his ripped, blood-splattered jeans.

She couldn’t breathe. “Get off me,” she rasped out, shoving Snakebite’s hand off her ass.

“Don’t be like that,” he said in her ear, right before he drew her lobe between his teeth and sucked.

Layla yanked away, but the drunken idiot had bit down and pulled too hard on her stud earring. “Shit!” she gasped, holding her ear. When she pulled her hand away, a smear of crimson glistened on her index finger.

“A little pleasure, a little pain?” Snakebite slurred, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her hip hard against his erection.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Get off!”

“I’m trying to!”

With a screech, she slapped his face with her claws out.

“Bitch!”

She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe.

When Snakebite grabbed her hair, she closed her eyes, waiting for the slap. Other than a stern yank to her tresses, the pain never came, and when she opened her eyes, Kong was throwing Snakebite into the horde of onlookers on the other side of the arena. Harrison was knocked out cold on the red saturated plywood floor with a few of his crew around him, and eek! Now Kong was headed her way with the furious look of a berserker in his eyes.

Retreat time.

She turned and ran forehead first into a solid wall of smelly biker.

“Kong!” Rhett roared from across the arena.

“Give me a fucking minute!” Kong yelled from way too close. Shit, shit, shit.

A meaty hand wrapped around her upper arm—all the way around it—and then Kong shoved her forward through a hole that magically appeared in front of her. Huh. This was much easier with a beefy, scary-ass, devil-eyed boxer giving death glares to anyone who stood in her way.

“Kong!” Rhett yelled again, from farther away this time, but when she turned to see how close Rhett was, Kong was blocking him from her view with his half naked body.

A squirrely man with greasy hair and a gap-toothed grin for Kong weaseled his way through the crowd. “Your cut,” he said simply, slapping a wad of bills into Kong’s hand. “See you next week.”

“Yeah,” Kong said in a low, rumbling voice.

He didn’t even slow down as he collected his winnings, just shoved her forward faster. “Run,” he demanded as soon as they were outside.

Run? “What’s happening?”

“Fuck,” he muttered when she apparently wasn’t going fast enough. He wrapped his oversize hand around hers and yanked her forward until she was sprinting behind him. He shoved her into the passenger side of an old glossy black Camaro, slammed the door, bolted around the front, and then jammed the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life so loudly she put her hands over her ears.

“Buckle. Now.” Kong’s eyes looked terrifying as he glared at the back window behind him and blasted out of the make-shift parking space. The instant he hit the gas, the back two wheels spun out in the damp field, and the car fishtailed for a few seconds before he hit the worn treads and hauled ass out of the parking lot.

He checked the rearview mirror three times as he hit the main road, then slammed his open palm against the steering wheel. “What the fuck were you doing there?”

Layla was plastered against the door with her lips pursed. They had to be going eighty on an old back road with no street lights. Heart in her throat, she pulled the wad of cash from her pocket. “I came to give you your tip back.”

Kong’s eyebrows were dark squiggles of undeniable irritation when he glanced over at her. “Are you out of your mind? I told you never to approach me again. You didn’t even wait three hours to come after me!”

She made an offended noise in her throat. “And what if I’d just been there for the fight? Wouldn’t you feel super stupid right now for dragging me into your…your…” She looked around the perfectly detailed dash and fragrant black leather seats for inspiration. “Sexmobile!” No. Not the right word when she was angry.

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