Penny put her ear to the door. Couldn’t hear anything. Then she checked the peek hole. That was such a worthless feature she thought. She turned the knob of the door and was going to just crack the door. There wasn’t any sound coming from anywhere. No one in the hall. Penny could just tiptoe down the hall until she did hear. If anything was bad, she would just dash back.
But then she realized as she was out of the room, she had locked herself out. Now she would have to go to the front desk and get them to let her back in. Danny would be mad but he would understand.
She turned the corner to go down the next hall and into the lobby when she ran nose into the chest of a biker. Only it wasn’t the friendly Ghosts of the Prairie. It most definitely was a Rigger. One of the men who had been at dinner with Brill Wayland. Penny tried to scream but no sound came out. The biker picked her up like she was nothing. There was no fighting back. He had her.
“You’re a hot little piece of ass,” he growled. “I am going to enjoy this. Got me the woman of the captain of the Ghosts of the Prairie.”
Penny went limp. She made her body dead weight to create as much of a challenge to him as possible, not that it did much. Her efforts did make him laugh. As he carried her, she guessed trying to find a spot to do whatever with her, she flailed her legs and reached out for anything she could latch on to.
Then she found her voice. She had an operatic ability that she had developed at church and high school back in Virginia. It sounded ridiculous but she belted one out. At first she let go a very loud “Help” and then a distressed one.
He slapped her but she did it again. And then he hunched his face close to her. “Keep it up and I will shut you up you silly slut,” he ordered. That’s when she made her move. Her hands were free. She threw a punch over her shoulder straight into his nose. The pain made him drop her. She fell to the floor, scrambling quickly towards the lobby. Maybe more Riggers were there. Maybe not.
Running through the motel was like running through Jell-O. Reality was warped. Danny and Trenton strolled into the entrance. Their expressions morphed from casual to alarm. Danny glared, reaching for her. Trenton moved past her, reaching for his weapon as he did, and yelling freeze.
Penny writhed mindlessly, still trying to act on the urge to flee. Danny gripped her shoulders, issuing firm commands.
“Stop,” he said brusquely. “Let’s go over here.”
He walked her over to a loveseat in the entrance of the motel.
“The police are on their way,” announced the woman at the desk.
“That’s fine,” said Danny, focusing on Penny.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I opened the door and he was there,” she said. “There’s more to it but I can’t talk right now.”
She scanned the immediate area and found what she needed. A decorative waste bucket. She lunged for it, drawing it to her. She vomited violently. Danny wasn’t affected by it all. If Penny witnessed someone throwing up, she probably would join them. But not him. He stroked her back.
“What’d he do?” Danny asked coolly but firmly.
“Grabbed me. Scared the shit out of me,” said Penny, cussing uncharacteristically.
“Mmm,” he responded.
She knew somewhere in there was an implied scolding. She should have listened to him.
“And so how did you get away?” he asked.
Trenton answered for him. “She broke his nose.”
“That works,” said Danny.
The same sheriff who answered the call at The Bison arrived on scene at the motel.
“We meet again,” he said neutrally. “What happened?”
“Members of the Riggers Motorcycle Club blew up one of our bikes. Attacked some of my guys as we were having a benign easy-going party. And then attacked my girlfriend here,” answered Danny.
“Where is the assailant now?” inquired the sheriff.
“Right here,” whined the injured biker.
For the first time in his two
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