Instead of a text with the location and time, Rafe received two gun-toting escorts the following night. They drove us to wherever the fight was being held, remaining frustratingly silent, and the situation was too similar to finding ourselves locked in the back of a trunk together. The way Rafe held onto my hand hinted that maybe he felt the same way.

Follow my lead. I’ll get you out of this, I promise.

Rafe’s words—whispered to me as we slid from the back of their souped-up SUV—bounced around my head as we entered a dilapidated warehouse. The furious vibe within these slab walls hit me instantly. The place was packed with people, the crowd consisting mostly of men.

As our henchmen escorts weaved a path for us, every man in a ten-foot vicinity attached his lust-filled gaze to my ass, though most were too busy taking a drag off a cigarette or swigging from a bottle of beer to say anything.

I clenched my fists to keep from tugging my black skirt down my thighs, past the lace tops of the stockings I wore. Men lost their minds when confronted with lace and a garter belt. I hadn’t wanted to dress provocative, but Rafe said Shelton demanded it.

Rafe flung an arm over my shoulders and tucked me into his side. His hold was possessive, but also protective, and he glowered at anyone brave enough to look at me.

There were a lot of brave men here.

The man I’d spied talking to Rafe in the barn a few days ago headed us off with a low whistle.

“I’m Shelton,” he said, taking my hand and brushing his wide mouth over the back. I yanked my hand from his.

Seemingly amused by my objection to being touched, he turned to Rafe with a small smile. “Your girl is a looker. I can see why you tried to run.”

“Like I told your goons,” Rafe said, sneering at the two men we’d followed inside, “I was just putting some shit in my truck.”

Shelton waved his words away. “You’re here, so consider us square.” He leaned in close to Rafe. “We’ll be real square after you make me a load of cash tonight.”

“We’re gonna have problems if you don’t get the fuck out of my face.”

“Whoa,” Shelton said, stepping back. “What’s with the hostility?”

“You tell me. You’re the one siccing your dogs on me.”

The other men bristled, but Shelton held up a hand. “Everybody relax. Nate and…” His eyes narrowed at the bigger of the two. “What the fuck is your name again?”

“Larson, sir.”

“Drop the sir.” Shelton pointed behind him, toward a door beyond a stack of crates. “Go make sure De Luca junior’s nice and comfy. Keep him contained until the fight starts.”