by Jess Bryant
“I-I-I don’t want to distract him.”
“Too late.” Ford snorted.
A bell rang somewhere overhead and the crowd erupted in cheers again. Her heart thumped so hard when she saw the man in the ring with Remy take a swing that she thought it would burst out of her chest. She stopped breathing again as she watched Remy block the blow and unleash one of his own. His connected, blood flew and she had to look away.
“No, you watch this.” Ford turned her by the shoulders to face the cage again, “You watch him. You watch him and you decide if he’s really what you want.”
“I…”
“Look, I saw your face when he claimed you. You were surprised. You had no idea he was gonna do that which means most likely, you’ve got no clue what you’re gettin’ yourself into bein’ with a Bomar so you watch him and you decide… is he what you really want?”
Rachel stared back up at the bearded Bomar and worried her bottom lip. Was he trying to… help her? Warn her away? Something in his eyes told her that he was, but she didn’t know why that would be. Was he warning her off Remy? Or off Bomars in general?
Since he didn’t look like he wanted to talk about it, or much of anything really, she simply tilted her chin up and forced herself to do what he asked. She hated violence. She hated blood. But he was right. She had chosen to come here and she had to deal with what that meant.
She winced as she watched another of Remy’s fists connect with his opponent and the guy doubled over, protecting his ribs. For a split second, she thought Remy was preparing to finish him off. He put his hands on his shoulders and looked as if he were going to bring his leg up and break the man’s face on his knee but then he simply shoved him away. He paced the ring, breathing hard, sweat dripping from him and blood on his knuckles.
Remy’s gaze met hers again through the crowd and she shivered as his dark eyes danced with intensity. He was beautiful. Beautiful and scary. And she knew that she should be scared, terrified of the violent animal pacing that cage. Everything she knew about fear said that big and strong and violent and Bomar added up to a bad bet on her part.
But this was Remy. The same Remy that had touched her so gently just moments before he walked into that cage and drawn blood. The same Remy that had sworn he would come back to her and take care of her once he was done. She wasn’t scared of Remy.
She shivered as she watched his opponent come back upright and the fight continued. It was hard to explain why it was that the man swinging his big fists in that cage didn’t fill her with fear. He just didn’t. There was something about him, something in his eyes, that made her believe that this, all of this dark and dirty Bomar persona was just that, a persona.
She knew he wasn’t doing this because he liked the violence. He wasn’t doing it as an outlet for his anger. He was doing it to save his brothers. Skylar had told her that. And the fact that her boss had stopped warning her off the dark-haired Bomar boy only added to her conviction.
No matter what anyone else said, Remy Bomar was a good man. She knew it. She could feel it. That was how she’d known that she could go to him. That was why she’d come here tonight. And he would take care of her, she knew that too.
She trusted him.
“Hey there darlin’.” A smooth voice drawled near her ear a moment before a large hand slid around her waist. “You look like you could use some company.”
Rachel turned instinctively and came face to face with the most beautiful man she’d ever seen in real life. That knowledge was instant and there was no denying it, but that wasn’t why her palms started to sweat and her throat threatened to close off. Fear roiled in her veins because recognition came hard on the heels of that knowledge and along with it came the absolute certainty that she was also looking at one of the most dangerous men she’d ever met.
Not that she’d ever been formally introduced to Lincoln Bomar. She’d never been brave enough for that. She all but hid anytime he came into the salon or anywhere near her. But from the grip he had on her hip and the way it tightened when she tried to slide away from him, she didn’t think that was going to be an option this time.
“I-I-I..” She bit the inside of her cheek and silently cursed her tongue.
Why couldn’t she simply speak like a normal person? Why did she have to stutter any time her nerves got the better of her? If she could just say what it was she wanted to say maybe someone, anyone, would take her seriously, but of course she couldn’t do that. Instead she stammered each and every time her fear spiked and she couldn’t seem to make it stop. Overcoming her fear was the only fix but that wasn’t a possibility when faced with Lincoln freaking Bomar.
“I… No thank you.” She finally managed.
The man beside her laughed as if that was the most amusing thing he’d heard all day. The laughter softened his features, which she couldn’t seem to look away from. He really was ridiculously handsome and when he looked back at her she couldn’t help but think he had the most interesting eyes. Not blue, not really, more of a blue-green, like sea-glass. They were absolutely captivating.
A loud roar cut through the barn and she jumped when reality crashed in all around her. She was in a dangerous place. She was dealing with a dangerous man and she’d let herself get distracted. Stupid, she mentally slapped herself back to attention in time to catch Lincoln’s grin, which was just as mesmerizing.
Yeah, that was the word for it, she decided. He’d mesmerized her just like a snake. She should avoid eye contact. It was her best hope for not completely falling under his thrall.
“Seems my cousin has a problem with that idea.”
“Wh-wh-what idea?”
“Me keeping you company.” Lincoln nudged his chin towards the cage, “He seems more concerned with me talking to you than the guy gunning for his kneecaps.”
“Oh…”
“Or maybe I’m wrong and he’s glaring at you.”
She couldn’t help it, her eyes snapped back to his, “Wh-what? Wh-why me?”
Lincoln simply stared at her. Slowly, that amused look crawled back over his chiseled face. His eyes practically twinkled when he grinned at her again.
“You really don’t know, do you? Interesting. It’s been a long time since I met a woman as innocent as she appeared to be. He’s glaring at you because you haven’t told me to get my hands off his property yet.” His eyes flickered over her shoulder and narrowed, “Ford, make yourself useful elsewhere. I’ll keep an eye on Remy’s friend.”
“I…I… but….” Rachel struggled not to whimper when she had to watch the bearded Bomar boy nod and then turn to walk away. He hadn’t done much to make her feel safe but he’d promised Remy he would protect her. Surely that should have extended to keeping his brothers hands off her. But no, of course not, because nobody dared to oppose their leader. “P-please let me go.”
“Sorry, not yet. We need to talk.”
She stiffened when Lincoln ignored her request and held her firmly at his side. If he thought she’d run the moment he loosened his grip, he would have been right. He might be hot but his touch chilled her to the bone. There was something calculating in his every move, every word, and it sent her survival instincts into overdrive. She needed away from him but since she couldn’t run she simply stayed quiet and as still as could be.
It was the same tactic she used with Craig.
“Who are you?” Lincoln asked, his lips thinning seriously as his eyes raked over her, “I’ve never seen you here before. You don’t look like a groupie, despite your clothes, but you do look strangely familiar. Tell me why.”
She wasn’t surprised he ordered instead of asking. Just like she wasn’t surprised that he didn’t know her. She was a nobody particularly to a man as powerful as this one.
It did surprise her that he remembered having seen her somewhere, until she remembered that her evil half-brother was one of Lincoln’s minions. It was possible he wasn’t recalling her at all but rather that she looked familiar because he knew Cr
aig. They didn’t have much in common but their looks were similar enough to show a shared parentage.
Silently she prayed that Lincoln didn’t place her as Craig’s sister. If he did, he would probably call her brother over and then she had no idea what she would do. Remy had claimed her. Craig couldn’t touch her, right? But she’d thought, stupidly, naively, that Lincoln couldn’t either. Yet here she stood, with his hands on her, that creeping feeling of discomfort rising up her throat, and no way out.
“I w-w-work for Skylar.” She admitted the only thing she could, hoping it would appease him.
“At the salon. Right.” His brows furrowed, “So what are you doin’ here? Ya know your boss ain’t gonna be pleased if she finds out you’re hanging with this lot.”
Her throat felt tight again so she simply shrugged. Lincoln raised an eyebrow and she knew that he didn’t believe her indifference. And why should he? She didn’t believe herself either. She hated the thought of Skylar being upset or disappointed in her. She was the closest thing to a friend that Rachel had ever had and she didn’t want to lose her.
“Don’t worry. I won’t be the one to tell her you were slummin’ it.” Lincoln winked, “But, since you are here, and since this is kind of my show tonight, why don’t you do me a favor and tell me what it is that brought you down here? Maybe I can help you… Skylar’s assistant.”
“It’s Ra-Ra-Ra…” She started to introduce herself but the sound of the crowd cut her off.
All around them, men erupted in shouts and cheers. Several whistled and clapped, others stomped their feet until the barn practically shuddered on its frame. There were a few people that booed but they were drowned out as well.
Her gaze swung to the cage again automatically and she winced at what she saw. There was a man crumpled to the ground in the center of the ring. He had his hands cupped to his face and blood was pouring down through the cracks between his fingers. Her stomach flipped at the sight even as a wave of relief went through her that it wasn’t Remy.
Her relief, however, was short lived.
“Rachel!”
She winced at the sound of her name being bellowed. Instantly, a dozen memories rose up to grip her with an age old fear. Whenever her name was yelled like that, it meant something bad was coming. Even as she knew that this wasn’t the same thing, she couldn’t help but freeze with fear when she saw Remy kick the door of the cage open.
He looked beyond angry. He was furious and all that rage was pointed directly at her. Oh God, she shivered, this had been a really bad idea. His gaze shifted a fraction of an inch and the breath she’d been holding came out as a relieved sigh. No, she wasn’t the one he was mad at. Not at all.
Lincoln had been wrong.
“Rachel!” Remy growled her name again as he pushed his way through the crowd.
God, he was... sexy. She’d never thought of a man that way before Remy. The few men she’d been attracted to before had been small, non-threatening, the complete opposite of Remy Bomar. She’d always avoided men like him but now, looking at him as he charged through the crowd, she was tempted to run towards him, not away.
His dark hair was cut short, almost buzzed to his scalp. The short strands were damp with sweat, just like the rest of him and insanely, she wondered if he still smelled like he usually did. Musky, manly, a hint of smoke and soap and something else, something that made the butterflies in her belly take flight whenever he came near her.
As he came closer now, she saw that his square jaw was tense, as if he was gritting his teeth. The stubble there was the same dark color as his hair, almost black, and it wasn’t just a five o’clock shadow. He always had that perma-stubble look that when paired with his sharp good looks and dark blue eyes made him the epitome of a bad boy.
Those navy eyes met hers again and a shiver raced down her spine. He was half-naked and coming closer and closer. His broad chest was slick with sweat and his muscles bunched. The black ink that wrapped around his hip and his bicep only added to the dangerous image. She’d never seen him like this, so rough, so raw, so… overwhelming.
“Rachel, get away from him.” He growled as he stopped in front of her, the circle of people around her moving to give him room, everyone but Lincoln who kept a firm grip on her when she tried to pull away.
“Remy…” Lincoln spoke up before she could find her voice.
“Fuck off Link.” He snapped.
“Remington.” Lincoln’s tone turned cold even as his eyes flashed fire, “Calm down. You’re scaring the girl.”
Remy tore his murderous gaze off his cousin to look at her and she winced as she saw his handsome face pale. She was shaking now. She could feel it though she couldn’t have pinpointed when it started. Her entire body was trembling. But Lincoln was wrong again. She wasn’t scared of Remy. She was scared of how much she wanted to leap into his arms and beg him to take her away from all of this.
“Rach?” Remy immediately softened, lowering his voice, “You okay, baby?”
She nodded, the endearment making something warm spread through her belly that calmed the worst of the butterflies.
Remy blew out a breath as if he too was trying to get a grip on himself, “Come on Rachel, we’re getting out of here.”
She managed a jerky nod.
“I’d say you don’t have to go with him but…” Lincoln started and Remy snarled at him.
“I told you to fuck off already.”
“But…” Lincoln continued as if he hadn’t spoken, “I don’t feel like burying my cousin’s body tonight and if he keeps talking to me like that I’m gonna have to.”
Remy rolled his eyes but a cold chill swept over Rachel. That had been a threat. A threat from the most powerful man she’d ever met, the leader of the Bomars. That made him Remy’s leader didn’t it? But he was rolling his eyes and snapping at him and it was all because of her.
She opened her mouth to apologize on Remy’s behalf, hating the thought of putting him in danger, but he stopped her. Despite the eye roll, Remy clenched his jaw and met his cousin’s gaze. When he spoke again his voice was softer but from the heat in his eyes she knew that it was more for the benefit of the people listening than because he actually felt apologetic for snapping at his cousin.
“Lincoln, please let her go.”
“Sure thing.” Lincoln smirked, “Just as soon as she tells me that you’re the one she wants.”
Rachel felt her cheeks flame hot with embarrassment at that dare. And it was a dare. She could hear it in Lincoln’s voice. Whatever he was up to, he’d approached her to mess with Remy. He wanted something and though she had no idea what it was, she knew that he was using her to make some sort of point. Remy had claimed her and yet it was Lincoln with an arm wrapped around her waist, refusing to let her go.
“She’s mine.” Remy answered with a growl, “She’s coming with me.”
“Sweetness?” Lincoln ignored him and smiled knowingly at Rachel. “Is that true?”
“Yes.” She answered instantly and for the first time all night, her voice didn’t waver. “I’m his.”
“See.” Remy growled, “Now get your hands off her or I’ll do it for you.”
Lincoln chuckled and slowly released the hold he had on her, “Who woulda thought the Bomars would turn out to be a possessive bunch of bastards? Fine. Go. We’ll talk later.”
Rachel wasn’t entirely sure what he was talking about because she wasn’t paying attention to Lincoln anymore. Remy’s dark blue gaze pinned her in place as he extended a hand to her in offering. She hesitated only a second, giving in to the urge she’d had to reach for him all night. The second their skin touched an electric current moved through her, making her shiver again.
“Come on Rach.” He laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s go home.”
At that, several wolf whistles went up and Rachel’s hand tightened on his instinctively. He squeezed in return even as the shiver of awareness that had heated her blood mixed with something else. Warmth
and comfort, that was what Remy had been giving her since the day they met. Combined with her attraction, there was no way she could do anything but cling to him as he pulled her towards the door.
She didn’t even stop to wonder if he meant his home… or hers.
Chapter Four
Remy’s head felt like it was going to explode. The entire world had dimmed the moment he set sights on Rachel in that barn. Everything that had happened since felt like a blur. Leaving her with Ford, trying to focus on his fight and failing miserably, seeing Lincoln touch her and then seeing nothing but red. He’d put his opponent down with one swing the way he wanted to put Lincoln down for daring to touch her. And now, her words confirming that she belonged to him still ringing in his ears, the feel of her hand in his, he could sense his control slipping.
He shoved his way through the packed barn towards the exit. Most people were smart enough to move out of his way. From the way they were looking at him, he figured he must look crazy. He was covered in sweat and blood and he was all but dragging a young girl behind him out of the barn. The whistles and grins that confirmed the spectators thought he was claiming his prize did nothing to cool his blood.
He was jacked. From the fight. From Lincoln’s dare. From the simple feel of Rachel’s small, soft hand in his.
As he pulled her after him out of the barn and then down a row of cars, she never faltered. She hustled to keep up. She squeezed his hand tight, as if she was afraid he would let go. But she never once tried to pull away, tried to ask him where he was taking her or what he was doing. She was so damn trusting and it was that, more than anything, that had him stopping in his tracks to try and get a grip on the situation.
