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expected that he would have some notes on the project, maybe a way for me to tweak it in order to make it better. I hadn’t expected for him to summarily tell me that although my work was good, there was no way in hell that the committee would grant me the scholarship.

I’d called Jacinda to give her the news and she’d suggested we go dancing.

“Look, this sucks right?” she’d said. “And maybe you feel as if all your work has been in vain. But the truth is, the fat lady hasn’t sung. So shake it off. Let’s go dancing. Tomorrow we’ll go in to work and make the project a thousand times more awesome. They won’t be able to resist.”

I let Jacinda propel me along.

She came over, dressed me up, called an Uber and took me to some club in the meatpacking district. At first, I just sat at the bar, wallowing in misery while Jacinda plied me with drinks. Once the alcohol had a chance to loosen me up though, I got into the spirit of things and waded onto the dancefloor.

Bear guy pretty much pushed his way into my personal space. Any other time I’d have socked him in the jaw and told him to fuck off. Tonight, I just didn’t have the energy to fight the patriarchy.

Having Domenic try to ‘rescue me’ did give me the strength for some sass. Now here I was, hurtling down empty dark roads without so much as a helmet, wondering how I was going to get out of this mess I put myself in.

As soon as he stops, I’m taking off.

I took one hand from around his waist and felt in my pockets for my phone. I texted my brother and asked him to use his super-duper high-tech security to find me, though I figured that by the time he managed to, biker guy might have caused some damage.

I remembered a passage I’d read in a book where the woman was kidnapped and she kept thinking that her job was to stay alive until her husband found her. Not to be melodramatic, but I suppose I’d have to do my best to escape as much damage as possible while I waited for Morgan to rescue me.

We turned in at a bar that was brightly lit and loud. A whole slew of bikes were parked outside and I could only conclude that we were at the guy’s motorcycle club headquarters.

He parked at the end of the lot, where it was a lot darker, and I got off. Looking towards the gate, I contemplated just running for it, but he grabbed my arm and dragged me to the clubhouse.

Shit.

My heart was beating triple time as he pulled me along and I couldn’t help looking around, searching for anyone who might look likely to rescue me. The bear dragged me right to the bar and slapped his hand on the counter.

“Two Coronas here, probie!” he yelled.

A pimple-faced youth with curly hair turned and smiled at the bear, before reaching below the counter and emerging with two beers. “Sure thing, Rooster. There ya go.”

Rooster… I gave him a sidelong glance, seeing how it might suit him. His feathers could be ruffled way too easily. He looked from me to the beer bottle with a raise of his eyebrows and I knew he expected me to drink. I took a tentative sip, wondering if it was roofied. The probie had opened the bottle in front of me, but who knew how they might have adulterated it before. I let the first three drops sit on my tongue, alert for any lingering bitter taste. All I could detect was hops and bitters, but that didn’t mean I was safe.

Frankly, I was scared out of my mind. I took another small sip even as I watched him down his own bottle in like three swallows. Someone passed him a blunt and he took a hit before offering it to me. I shook my head, almost stumbling backward in my haste to get away from it. He grinned as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever seen before taking another hit and passing the blunt to someone else.

His hand closed on my wrist and he began to drag me towards the back rooms.

I wondered if screaming might help.

I looked longingly toward the doorway and was somehow not surprised to find Domenic filling it. The relief I felt could not be described in words. He strode into the roomful of bikers, Morgan at his flank, cutting a swathe through them to block Rooster’s way.

“Hey, douchebag, we meet again. Get your hands off my fiancée.” His voice was low, cold, and deep as he looked Rooster in the eye. I tried pulling my wrist out of Rooster’s hand, but he held onto it, tight.

“Hey, finders keepers,” he growled and I narrowed my eyes in annoyance.

This guy was grazing my last nerve. I truly hate to be objectified.

“She’s not a piece of property I left in a locker room somewhere!” Dom barked back and I silently cheered.

“She came with me, which means she doesn’t care about being your fiancée. Move.” He tried to push past Dom and I dug my heels in. Now that I had some back up, I was ready to fight. Rooster turned and glared at me as if he could not believe a mere woman was trying to thwart him. I could feel Domenic’s anger rising from where I stood and didn’t understand how Rooster could not see how much danger he was in.

A strange man joined the fray, stepping between Dom and Rooster. “Alright, alright, what’s going on here? Who are you and what are you doing in my club?”

Domenic looked the new guy in the eye and didn’t seem in the least intimidated by him despite the man’s tattoos, the fact that he was surrounded by at least five goons in support, and he had what had clearly once been a knife wound running

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