called dirty blond. It was straight; it wasn't silky. Her breasts weren't large, and she wasn't available for a quick one-night stand.
That pretty much canceled her out for most men.
35
Slipping through the throng of dangers, she headed for the exit.
The Cantina sat below the major convention center and hotel in the county. It was
connected to it and provided a major source of entertainment for the guests there.
It was often a major source of entertainment for Mikayla. In the past weeks, she
hadn't quite been in the mood for entertainment, though.
Pulling the keys to her Jeep from her jeans pocket, Mikayla was suddenly
thankful that Thad had been running late today. It meant she'd had a reason to drive her own vehicle to the club rather than riding with him.
It gave her a ride home.
Moving through the shadowed parking lot, she pressed a key between two fingers
defensively, prepared, just in case. She'd learned the hard way that nothing was really safe. That at any second something could happen. Something one didn't bring on oneself.
Watching the shadows warily, her gaze canvassing each area that could hide a
threat, she moved as quickly as possible to her Jeep.
It had been impossible to park close to the entrance of the Cantina. She'd been
forced to park in a lot across the street. The only place available at the time was far, toward the other end.
She should have gone home when she realized she couldn't park close enough to
the bar to be safe. But Thad had been so insistent.
This would teach her.
Quickening her step, she waited until she was close enough to the vehicle before
hitting the automatic door locks. She heard the click as she rounded the car. Her hand was reaching out for the door latch when she'd realized how serious her error had been.
Hard hands grabbed her from behind.
"Fucking troublemaking cunt!" A harsh growl sounded behind her.
Mikayla didn't have three younger brothers for nothing, and she sure as hell
wasn't going to be a victim who didn't fight back.
Fear roiled through her. Terror became a creature, snarling, fighting, as adrenaline surged through her bloodstream and nothing but the instinct for survival ruled.
She swung her fist with the key tight between two fingers.
A male grunt sounded in the darkness as she felt herself being thrown, flipped
around as she slammed into the back of the Jeep.
Her face raked against the side of the canvas top as her breast was driven against the spare tire. A cry of pain tore from her lips, and with the next breath she was screaming, kicking, scratching, the key gripped between her fingers as she lashed out. In the dark, she couldn't see much: a shadowed face. Her attacker wasn't much taller than she, but he was strong.
His fingers wrapped around her throat, clenched. Mikayla drove the keys into a
soft midsection. A hard grunt, the fingers loosened, but a second later it felt as though a sledgehammer had driven into the side of her face.
A fist. Distantly, she realized it was a fist. Every muscle in her body went lax for precious seconds as shock and pain traveled through her body. The keys fell from her fingers, her only weapon of defense gone as she felt those fingers, too strong, wrap around her throat once again.
She was going to die.
Mikayla could feel that knowledge rattling inside her brain. She couldn't fight
36
against strength. She was too weak now. Her senses felt scattered, her breath so short.
She was definitely going to die.
Nik walked out of the Cantina, his gaze searching the brightly lit front entrance of the club as he looked for Mikayla. Cars whizzed by, their headlights flickering through the shadows as he narrowed his eyes in his search for her.
Mikayla had managed to get out of the bar before he realized she had left. She had disappeared into the throng and he'd lost sight of her. By the time Nik realized she was leaving he was too far behind to catch up with her.
She must have been parked close, he thought.
That pretty much canceled her out for most men.
35
Slipping through the throng of dangers, she headed for the exit.
The Cantina sat below the major convention center and hotel in the county. It was
connected to it and provided a major source of entertainment for the guests there.
It was often a major source of entertainment for Mikayla. In the past weeks, she
hadn't quite been in the mood for entertainment, though.
Pulling the keys to her Jeep from her jeans pocket, Mikayla was suddenly
thankful that Thad had been running late today. It meant she'd had a reason to drive her own vehicle to the club rather than riding with him.
It gave her a ride home.
Moving through the shadowed parking lot, she pressed a key between two fingers
defensively, prepared, just in case. She'd learned the hard way that nothing was really safe. That at any second something could happen. Something one didn't bring on oneself.
Watching the shadows warily, her gaze canvassing each area that could hide a
threat, she moved as quickly as possible to her Jeep.
It had been impossible to park close to the entrance of the Cantina. She'd been
forced to park in a lot across the street. The only place available at the time was far, toward the other end.
She should have gone home when she realized she couldn't park close enough to
the bar to be safe. But Thad had been so insistent.
This would teach her.
Quickening her step, she waited until she was close enough to the vehicle before
hitting the automatic door locks. She heard the click as she rounded the car. Her hand was reaching out for the door latch when she'd realized how serious her error had been.
Hard hands grabbed her from behind.
"Fucking troublemaking cunt!" A harsh growl sounded behind her.
Mikayla didn't have three younger brothers for nothing, and she sure as hell
wasn't going to be a victim who didn't fight back.
Fear roiled through her. Terror became a creature, snarling, fighting, as adrenaline surged through her bloodstream and nothing but the instinct for survival ruled.
She swung her fist with the key tight between two fingers.
A male grunt sounded in the darkness as she felt herself being thrown, flipped
around as she slammed into the back of the Jeep.
Her face raked against the side of the canvas top as her breast was driven against the spare tire. A cry of pain tore from her lips, and with the next breath she was screaming, kicking, scratching, the key gripped between her fingers as she lashed out. In the dark, she couldn't see much: a shadowed face. Her attacker wasn't much taller than she, but he was strong.
His fingers wrapped around her throat, clenched. Mikayla drove the keys into a
soft midsection. A hard grunt, the fingers loosened, but a second later it felt as though a sledgehammer had driven into the side of her face.
A fist. Distantly, she realized it was a fist. Every muscle in her body went lax for precious seconds as shock and pain traveled through her body. The keys fell from her fingers, her only weapon of defense gone as she felt those fingers, too strong, wrap around her throat once again.
She was going to die.
Mikayla could feel that knowledge rattling inside her brain. She couldn't fight
36
against strength. She was too weak now. Her senses felt scattered, her breath so short.
She was definitely going to die.
Nik walked out of the Cantina, his gaze searching the brightly lit front entrance of the club as he looked for Mikayla. Cars whizzed by, their headlights flickering through the shadows as he narrowed his eyes in his search for her.
Mikayla had managed to get out of the bar before he realized she had left. She had disappeared into the throng and he'd lost sight of her. By the time Nik realized she was leaving he was too far behind to catch up with her.
She must have been parked close, he thought.
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