~~Geneva~~

The building security guard stood nearby when I exited the elevator. He nodded briskly.

“Do you need me to escort you to your bike?” he asked.

“No, I’m fine.” I excused him and exited the building.

Thank God my Harley was still in one piece in the parking spot where I’d abandoned it last night. I never left my bike unprotected like that, which showed how much Axel had thrown me off my game.

I wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings, as my mind churned over all the things that’d happened in the past twenty-four hours. Dating and sleeping with Axel. The guys making the playoffs. A possible issue with one to three team members getting arrested.

Lots to think about.

I jumped when someone grabbed my arm and spun me around. Assuming my assailant was Axel wanting another kiss, I had a big smile on my face as I did my one-eighty.

Bria stood before me, her once beautiful face splotchy and sunken. Her glossy hair hung in limp, greasy strands over her face. Her clothes were frumpy and wrinkled, as if she’d slept in them. Immediately, I wondered how obvious it was that I’d recently rolled out of bed with Axel, not that my being with anyone should matter to her.

“You have to help me. I want to see my kids. I want my husband back.” She was pleading and tears ran down her face. I caught a whiff of whiskey on her breath. By the looks of her, she hadn’t yet sobered up from the night before.

“How did you know I was here?” I spoke calmly and schooled my face to be devoid of emotion. She expected a reaction, and she wouldn’t get one from me. Besides, I was a little rattled by her appearance. How long had she been waiting for me?

I pushed on her arms to move her out of the way. Much to my surprise, the woman was stronger than she appeared. Maybe that bit of crazy gave her strength.

“Get out of my way.” I narrowed my eyes and gave her the full force of my indignation. I shook a finger at her. “Don’t you ever touch me again.”

“You have to help me.” Her voice held a hint of threat that disturbed me more than I cared to admit. I might be tough, and I might’ve experienced a lot in my twenty-three years, but I don’t think I’d ever encountered anyone, man or woman, who sent bone-deep fear curling through me.

Except one man.

Weasel.

The guy who’d taken away my sense of self, my belief I would always defeat any demons, and my confidence I was a strong, independent woman. He made me dependent on him. He made me doubt myself. He made me cower when he walked in the room. He beat me down mentally, emotionally, and physically until only a shell of my former self remained.

I’d worked so hard to get that woman back, and I wasn’t about to lose her again, especially not to the likes of his woman.