Because that’s what I chose.
CHAPTER 18
BEX - UP FOR GRABS
Razor smiles down at me when he says, “Well, the good news is, you just announced you’re not Clutch’s ol’ lady anymore.”
His grip tightens, and he pulls me closer as he adds, “And that means you’re up for grabs.”
The prospect swallows hard. “I… I don’t think Clutch would agree with that R…Razor.”
Razor’s head snaps toward him, a warning in his voice when he says, “Mind your business,prospect.”
The kid doesn’t move. I have to give him that. He steels himself, saying, “Clutch asked me to keep an eye on her. Make sure she is safe until he gets back.” His voice shakes as he adds, “I… I know he wouldn’t want her unprotected.”
A shadow moves behind him, another brother steps forward, and the punch lands hard in the prospect's stomach. He doubles over with a grunt.
“You gonna argue with a brother?” the man sneered. “Or you gonna do what you’re told?”
Razor flips open a knife; the metal gleams under the lights. The kid pales as he tries to stand up.
“I…” His voice falters. “I’m sorry.”
My heart rate kicks up and I hope he isn’t saying what I think he is. But he doesn’t look at me, he straightens slowly, then calls out to the girls. “Let’s go, Angel’s orders. Back to your room.”
The girls hesitate, then slip off the men’s laps and follow him down the hall.
Razor turns back to me, licking his lips.
“Well now.”
His smile is slow and predatory.
“Where were we, Rebecca?”
The way he says my name makes my skin crawl.
“Is that even your real name?” he asks with a chuckle.
I don’t answer and he glances back at the table of men.
“Who thinks we should keep the party going?”
Laughter ripples through them and I try to take a step back, but bump into someone behind me. Rough hands grab at my ass, squeezing.
“Yeah,” the man laughs, his putrid breath hot on my cheek. “I see why Clutch had his panties in a knot over this one.”
I twist away, only to bump into another one. A hand grabs my breast, squeezing.
“Nice.”
Rage flashes through me as I try to shove and fight my way out. I feel even smaller than usual with them crowding me. Panic threatens to pull me under, the knowledge that sometimes blacking out… forgetting… is the only way to survive.
“Don’t touch me.” I yell.
But they are closing in now, herding me backward, toward the corner of the room. I know if I don’t get away now, I never will. There is no way they let me survive this.
Razor steps closer as he reaches out and pulls the elastic from my hair. The strands fall loose over my shoulders and he slides the band onto his wrist. Then, casually… an almost soft intimate action, he pushes a lock of hair behind my ear, saying, “There.” His voice dropped, “That’s better.”