Wrong, wrong, wrong thing to say.

I therefore leaned into him but jerked my arm straight back behind me, pointing to my car. “Yes,” I hissed, “and that’s my girl. So, lesson, boys, he hit my girl and he took advantage of her when she was too young to get it. So this is woman’s work and I’m f**king lead. This goes south, you step in. But it won’t go south, trust me.”

“You got a black belt or somethin’?” Tug asked curiously.

“No,” I answered then yanked the pepper spray out of my pocket and showed it to him, “I’ve got a surprise.”

Tug grinned. Roscoe’s eyebrows shot up but he still looked unimpressed. Shy looked to the ceiling created by the upper walkway.

I decided we’d delayed enough and pushed through them in order to stomp to apartment number five. I felt them close in behind me as I lifted my hand and knocked, loud.

“Fuck off!” came a shout from inside.

Rude.

Not a surprise but also f**king with my plan.

“Open this door!” I shouted back.

“Go f**k yourself,” was returned.

“Open this door!” I repeated. “I’m not going to ask again.”

“Kiss my ass!”

“Right, then!” I yelled then stepped back and swung my arm toward the door while ordering, “Bust it in.”

“Babe, a charge of breaking and entering will also get us a stay in lockup,” Shy rationally pointed out.

I’d had a bad evening, a worse night and not much sleep. Tabby was pissed at me, bleeding and she’d just found out her boyfriend was a jerk. It was the wee hours of morning.

I was in no mood for rational.

I was in the mood to kick some ass.

So I shrieked, “Bust it in!”

“Jesus, f**kin’ hell, all right, all right,” Roscoe muttered, positioned, lifted a motorcycle-boot clad foot and slammed it into the door.

It popped right open.

I shoved through the boys again and stormed right in.

I saw my mistake immediately when I saw the baseball bat swinging in the direction of my head. Luckily, I was presently Arctic Tyra and I had a mission I was not going to allow to be foiled so I had the presence of mind to duck. The bat whiffed over me, I heard Shy’s growled, angry, “Fuck,” but ignored it and I came up, armed with pepper spray.

I aimed, I shot.

My luck in life was up for debate.

My luck in that moment wasn’t because the spray worked.

He howled, dropped the bat, his hands went to his face and he tripped over his feet in retreat.

“What the f**k! What the f**k! What the f**k is that?” he shouted.

I noted vaguely he was kind of cute so I understood his allure to Tabby. I also vaguely noted his Momma needed to make a visit to do some cleaning. At the same time I stayed on target, dropped my spray and advanced.

I got my opportunity and hit him, palm open, slapping him hard right across the face.

He was in such a state, he couldn’t correct himself and fell to his hands and knees.

I bent over him and asked sweetly, “Feel good?”

“Fuck!” he shouted then started crawling and ran into a coffee table.

I grabbed his shirt, yanked him back and twisted him. When I got my shot, I slapped him again with such force, his head snapped around.

“How about that?” I asked. “Feel good?”

He swung blindly out with his arms so it was easy to avoid them.

“Fuck off! Get out! I’m callin’ the cops!” he yelled.

“Yeah? You are?” I asked, leaning in. “If you were going to do that, you would have done it. But you’re not. Because you don’t want to answer uncomfortable questions about why your girlfriend is sixteen.”

Then I slapped him again and he fell to his side.

“Get off me!” he shouted, getting his knees under him and starting awkwardly to crawl on them and one hand because he was using his other hand to swipe at his eyes.

I did the yanking at the tee thing again and when I’d jerked him back to his ass, I grabbed onto it at the front and got in his face.

“Why she’s not only sixteen, but you hit her,” I went on. “And bloodied her goddamn nose!” I hissed then held him still while I slapped him then I did it again. Then I went in for a third go while his hands pulled at my forearm attached to the hand fisted in his tee and his head and body jerked to get away from me.

“Red, you’re done.”

My body went still at the sound of Tack’s low, gravelly voice. Then I let go, straightened and turned to see Tack, Brick, Dog and Boz standing with Shy, Roscoe and Tug inside the door.

This meant Roscoe, Tug or Shy had called the boys and I made a note to self that the next time I enlisted Chaos recruits to dish out retribution, I made clear that our operation was flying under radar.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

I asked Tack but it was Boz who answered.

“Enjoying the f**k outta the show. Shit, Cherry, you’re cute, all badass and pissed off and kickin’ squirrel-ball ass.”

It wasn’t a compliment I thought I’d ever get. Still, it wasn’t half bad.

“Go see to Tab,” Tack ordered and I looked from an amused Boz to a very, very unamused Tack as I vaguely heard Squirrel-Balls scrambling, sniffing and breathing heavily behind me.

It was then I felt the scary, badass biker vibe in the room. It was blazing. It was serious. It was terrifying. It was all-encompassing. So much, it was suffocating. And it was not coming from the bikers collectively.

No, it was coming from Tack and Tack alone.

I bit my lip.

I’d never seen it, Tack breathing fire. I thought I had. He had a temper, no doubt about it, and that temper was scary. I might have got a hint of it after the Russians abducted me but by the time he got to me, he’d had time to cool down.

But this.

This was something else.

“Go,” he growled. “See,” he kept growling. “To Tab!” he barked, leaning toward me.

I moved toward the door muttering, “I’ll just go see to Tabby.”

No one spoke.

Unfortunately, my path to escape was covered in bikers with Tack being right inside the door. When I made it to him, I turned to the side, sucked in my gut and tried to squeeze by him but failed.

He caught my upper arm and my eyes flew to his.

“My house. She needs to be home. And when I get there, babe, you better be there.”