Furore (The Night Skulls MC #1)(24)

I pinned my stare to Furore. “Did you win…or lose?”

He frowned. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Then he scoffed before the guards marched him out of the classroom.





CHAPTER 15


Jo



“Excuse me, you’re what?” The warden scowled at me behind his desk, a vein popping in his wide forehead.

“Leaving,” I stressed.

“You can’t leave in the middle of the semester without prior notice.”

“I volunteer here, Mr. Mathews. I’m not obligated by anything other than my will and care for the students’ educational welfare to stay. After what happened today, though, I’m no longer willing to take any risks, for anybody.”

“Your safety isn’t something we take lightly, Miss Meneceo, and I understand you had an issue with Murphy today. I’ll replace him with not one but two guards.”

I didn’t know I was that important of an employee at San Quentin. I fought the urge to snort. He’d allowed a new student in my classroom when it was already full and almost half the semester had passed. At the first few minutes of Maverick’s existence in my class, he was trying to grab my sunglasses off my face. Coincidence? Highly unlikely. Now, the warden was taking extra measures to keep me here. Obvious much?

I rose to my feet so he’d understand I wasn’t willing to negotiate. I wasn’t that stupid. “Did you bet, too?”

He touched his mustache like some villain in a black and white movie. “On what?”

I chuckled. “You know what.”

“I’m not a gambling man, Miss Meneceo. I hate losing. But there isn’t much to do around here for entertainment, so...” He shrugged.

“What color did you bet on? Let me guess. Green? No. Probably blue.”

A smirk curved the corner of his thin lips. “Hazel.”

“Wow.” I didn’t expect that. “You’re a very lucky man. How much did you win?”

He looked me straight in my eyes—in my hazel contacts. “About five hundred dollars.”

“Well, I hope you put them in good use. Perhaps to put on an ad to find someone to fill my place.” I carried my things and drove straight to my apartment. I had a lot of packing to do.

A motorcycle engine revved next to my car as I arrived at the apartment building. My shameless heart careened, and my eyes widened at the window to catch a glimpse of the motorcycle…or the rider. It dashed right by me, though. In a flash it was a dot at the end of the dark street before it vanished completely.

My shoulders slumped as I shook my head at the tightening in my chest. Why did I keep doing this to myself? Tirone had forgotten about me, and I’d made up my mind to go. He didn’t deserve the torture I was inflicting upon myself. He didn’t deserve to live rent-free in my mind and heart, branding his name on my soul with fire.

I grabbed my bag and headed to the building entrance. Then I looked for my keys. Tonight, it all ended. No more Tirone, no more— Something rough covered my mouth and stifled my scream. “No, no!” My voice came out muffled. I squirmed, fighting as hard as I could.

“Don’t move. Just open the door and get in,” an unfamiliar, gruff, male voice said.

I could see the beefy hand on my mouth now, and it pressed harder to silence my cries. It got harder to breathe and with that my muscles didn’t cooperate to execute any moves to defend myself. Tears streamed down my face, and fear sucked the blood out of my body. They found me. I was a few hours away from leaving town, but they fucking found me. How?

“Now,” he growled.

With shaky hands, I unlocked the door. He pushed me in fast and closed the door right behind us.

“Please, let me go,” I sniffled in the dark against his palm, writhing in the ironclad arms that wouldn’t budge, choking.

“Don’t fight. Lead us up to your place.”

“No.”

His arm became a tight hold on my throat, and I discovered his hand on my mouth was nothing. I knew now what it meant to be really choking. “Don’t make me hurt you,” he said, dragging me toward the stairs.

He was so big, practically lifting me off my feet when I still wouldn’t obey him, as he took us both upstairs. He released my throat only to take my keys and after several tries unlock the door to my apartment.

Once we were inside, he turned on the lights. “Now, I’m gonna take my hand off your mouth, and you’ll be a good bitch and not scream.”

“Fuck you,” I huffed, but I didn’t think it was clear enough.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Either way, you’ll fucking listen to what I have to say.”

I grimaced in confusion, suddenly registering his accent. Southern. And on a second thought, it wasn’t that unfamiliar. “Who are you?”

“What’s that, babe?”

“Who are you?!”

“You gonna behave?”

Reluctantly, I nodded. I was going to suffocate anyway if he didn’t take his hand off my mouth.

Slowly, his grip eased off me, and the constriction in my lungs started to lift. I twisted to see his face. “What… I know you. You’re the biker from the club. What are you doing here and what do you want from me?”