Rome's Chance (Reapers MC #6.6)(13)

Rome certainly seemed comfortable with it.

I don’t know why I found this so startling. I mean, it wasn’t like he’d lied about who he was. Somehow, I’d blocked the whole motorcycle club thing out of my mind earlier—you know, what with the sexy hotness of him to distract me—but it was an open secret that the Reapers were into some deeply bad shit. Maybe not Rome, personally, but he hadn’t hesitated to wade back into the brawl after he’d seen me safe.

Of course, right now he was busy patching someone up. That part was good, right?

All of this spun through my head as I tried to decide my next move. I liked Rome a lot, but I didn’t like having to hide behind a bar during a brawl. And being gorgeous and smelling good probably wasn’t enough to offset the whole violent gang angle he had going. I sighed. These should be deal breakers in a potential boyfriend.

But were you really expecting this to turn into a relationship?

I thought about the condoms in my purse. I hadn’t put them there, but I hadn’t taken them out, either. And I was headed back to Missoula on Sunday. I’d been thinking about sleeping with Rome, not marrying the guy. Maybe that made me a shallow slut, but it wasn’t like I’d tricked him into dry humping me on the dance floor.

Rome was gorgeous and he smelled good. Really good. The fight was over, and the rumors about the Reapers shouldn’t matter because I’d probably never see him again. Not unless I got that job and moved back and had to see him all the time… No. Don’t overthink it. You have a purse full of condoms and a hot biker who wants to get into your pants. You can still save this.

The boards of the fence started shaking.

I turned around and looked up, confused. One of the drunken cowboys was boosting himself up and over the top. Crap. They’d thrown him out, but the asshole clearly wasn’t ready to end the fight. He dropped down next to me with a thud. Our eyes met. His were bloodshot and full of rage, like an angry bull.

I raised my hands and held them open, trying to show that I was absolutely, positively not a threat to him in any way. It must’ve worked, because he turned toward the door, fists clenched.

There wasn’t even time to sigh with relief before the fence started rattling again. Seconds later, something crashed into me. I slammed into the concrete face first.

Gasping for air, I tried to figure out what’d happened.

There was something crushing me. Something really fucking heavy. My oxygen-deprived brain scrambled for an explanation. Maybe a woolly mammoth had fallen from the sky, because whatever it was that hit me felt at least that big.

Hairy, too.

The weight shifted, and slurred curses escaped its mouth. Another drunken cowboy must’ve come over the fence. Lucky me.

The brute grunted, then abruptly shoved himself up, crushing my face back into the hard concrete in the process. Pain exploded around my right eye, pain so intense that for an instant I thought he’d punched me. Except the angle wasn’t right for that, and I wasn’t entirely sure he’d even noticed that he’d landed on someone. Then he was gone, leaving me alone on the sticky concrete, face throbbing in time to my racing heart.

Oh, this sucked. This sucked the big one.

I don’t know how long I stayed there—it felt like hours—but eventually I managed to catch my breath. Rolling slowly, I turned onto my back to assess the situation.

Right.

My face hurt. A lot. Pain radiated out from my right eye in agonized waves, and when I tried opening it, everything was dark. I couldn’t see. Anything.

Oh shit. Oh fucking shit shit shit fuck shit!

Raising a hand, I felt my face gently, terrified that I’d find my eye popped like a grape. I discovered the lid was swelling up fast, but the eye seemed to be in the right spot.

Thank you sweet baby Jesus.

Except I still couldn’t see anything. Not even with my other eye. My heart started clenching again, but before full panic could set in, my common sense gave me a mental slap. No point in panicking until you have a reason. I reached up and my hand brushed something. The bottom of a table, maybe? I blinked, the faintest hint of light filtering in as my eyes adjusted.

Someone had turned off the strings of lights—that’s why it was so dark. The door to the bar had been closed, too, which left me with the stars and a crescent moon as my only light. No wonder I couldn’t see anything.

“You okay?” someone asked, shining a cell phone light into my face. I blinked and raised a hand to protect myself. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry!”

The light shifted, leaving a young man who stared down at me. He must’ve used a fake ID, because he looked about seventeen at most. The kid offered me a hand up, and I took it, standing up carefully to avoid whacking my head. Everything throbbed and hurt, and I had a feeling I’d be sore as hell in the morning.

Sore and likely bruised up.

Wouldn’t that just be perfect for the class reunion?

“I can’t believe what that guy did to you,” my rescuer said. He seemed skittish. Fair enough—flying attack cowboys were scary as hell. “They came out of nowhere. Are you all right?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted. “My face hurts a lot.”

“Yeah, it’s not looking so good,” he said bluntly. “That’s gonna be a hell of a shiner.”

“Great,” I said, offering a tight smile. “Just what I need. I don’t get how falling like that could give me a black eye, though.”