Lowlander Silverback (Gray Back Bears #5)(9)

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 f*ck 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.

“You were the one who brought that gropey *—”

“I did not bring him. I served him drinks tonight, and he recognized me on the way in. I didn’t invite him to grope me.”

“Well, that’s what happens there, Layla. It’s not a place for a woman like you.”

“Like me? You don’t even know me. That might be just my scene.”

She tried to hand him the money again, but he shoved her hand away.

“I’m not taking it back, so stop it.” He jerked the wheel and took off down another back road, washed out and overgrown by brambles.

“Where are you taking me?”

“I don’t know! Fuck, Layla. I tried to warn you. Did you not hear me when I said you have to stay away from me?”

“Yeah, but then you gave me five hundred dollars! I can’t accept that. I’m no charity case.”

Kong pulled behind a clump of trees and cut the lights. He stayed perfectly still, looking out the back window for a full minute before he slumped back against the seat. He slammed his head back against the rest and sighed. “I didn’t give you the money to make you feel like a charity case. It just sounded like you could use the money when you were on the phone earlier. I have plenty, so I was just trying to help.”

“You have plenty? Please don’t tell me you are some trust fund prick who has a billion dollars stashed away in Swiss bank accounts.”

“And if I was?” he asked, frowning so hard a wrinkle indented on his forehead.

“Then I’d be super prejudiced against you.” A small smile cracked her face, so she crossed her arms over her chest and tried to keep the laugh securely in her throat.

“I own the sawmill. It’s not trust fund money. I work my ass off and live below my means so that I can put extra away in savings, you judgy little thing.” But the way he muttered the last part sounded like he was more amused than angry.

“Okay, then why are you fighting grizzly alphas for”—she yanked the wad of cash he’d shoved in the cup holder between them and counted it out—“a hundred dollars a pop?” She reared back. “A hundred dollars? Really? Your face looks like a murder scene,” she said, gesturing at the gash in his eye, which looked half healed already but was still super gory.

“It’s not about the money.” He gripped the wheel, then let his hands slide off to rest on his thighs. “I have to fight.”

Layla swallowed hard and leaned her cheek against the leather seat, pulling her knees up to her chest. “Why?”

Kong rolled his head toward her. “I just do.”

“Because of what you are?”

“I’m human.”

“Bullshit. Your eyes look like those bug lights that zap anything that gets too close.”

His eye twitched as he ripped his gaze away and slid on a pair of sunglasses. “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

“You were the one who kidnapped me against my will.”

“You smell like arousal and pheromones. Don’t give me that kidnapped against your will shit.”

Layla nearly choked on air. “Excuse me? I do not smell.” She sniffed her arm but she smelled like she always did after work. Beer and deodorant.