Riding rough – chapter 2, part 1

The guy scanned up and down the alley before heading right. His grip on Madigan’s arm was a hot vise. His hand encompassed her entire arm. Madigan tried to shirk from his hold without further result than the guy pulling her forward. Madigan wobbled to restore balance and followed.

She felt her residual anger and the shock from everything that had just happened enflame her neck and cheeks. This was outrageous and surreal. There was no way, Madigan was going any further in tow – damn it.

The alley led to a wide street. A car roared by. This was Madigan’s chance, as the guy, the biker, took in the surroundings. Madigan pulled away and ran, scanning the street for people, an all-night anything, just help to get away from the mistake of stepping into a biker bar.

Madigan was ready to cut across the street, when he caught her around the waist, lifting her from the street and slamming her back against the brick wall of a dilapidated industrial building.

‘Not so fast,’ he said with those stone cold eyes, unnerving Madigan, ‘who are you? And what were you doing at the Narrow?’

Madigan couldn’t look away from those eyes. His powerful stare made her core tingle. His frame so huge and muscular, she felt small in front of him. Madigan’s hands were planted on the plains of his rock hard chest. There was no way she could push him away – and she didn’t want to.

That was the wrong reaction, Madigan chided herself. She was definitely in over her head right now. She reverted to her professional skills. Find a platform. Regain self-confidence. Create room to maneuver.

The guy shifted, pushing her shoulders harder into the wall behind her. Having her back against the rough wall was as close to rock bottom, Madigan could imagine. She could do this. She did it every day with great success, albeit in conference rooms and not in a dark, abandoned street in the middle of the night.

‘Just getting a drink,’ Madigan stated, giving the guy an illusionary shove. She had regained her confidence with a slight hallow tinge in her body. The guy gave her a few inches. There was still no way, she could get away from him, if she wanted to.

‘Not exactly your scene, is it?’

The guy looked at her up and down, his murderous attitude thawing to intent to inflict bodily harm. Madigan blushed under his scrutiny. She wouldn’t let her confidence falter.

‘The venue was a matter of coincidence.’

Madigan forced herself to meet his gaze, repressing the shivers she felt inside. This guy was tougher than Balducci. The way he affected her was beyond Madigan’s comprehension. Madigan bit down on her tongue in order to keep herself from saying more. Adding more words to her statement would merely devaluate it, but the urge to feel the electric silence between them tore in her throat.

Madigan was well aware that she still hadn’t told him her name. She had no intention of doing so. With that information, he would be able to find her again and that wasn’t going to happen. She needed to make a clean getaway and return to her side of the tracks so to speak.

Sirens wailed from afar, breaking the standoff between them. The guy made a gruff, annoyed groan and step away from her. Madigan let go of the breath she had held in. She was relieved, but unsure of who had won the battle between them.

‘Don’t come back.’

He gave the order the subtext of ‘or else’. There was no mistake, he was the victor. He turned and marched back down the alley.

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