After collecting the trash, she headed for the back door to put it in the dumpster. As she stepped into the darkness the oppressive humidity made the air feel sticky. The dull bulb by the back door of the bar lit her way as she crossed the gravel lot toward the dumpster. Her attention fell on Diesel’s old jacked-up truck parked out front of the Dark Knights’ clubhouse behind the bar, a rough-looking two-story wooden building with blacked-out windows. He stayed in one of the rooms upstairs. She’d heard stories about bikers sharing women and doing all sorts of things she didn’t want to think about. She also knew the Dark Knights were as loyal and as fierce as they came, but they didn’t share their women. At least the men she knew well—the Whiskeys, Jed Moon, Jace Stone, and the others she’d met through the bar—didn’t. Who knew what Diesel was like?

She reached up to open the dumpster and heard something to her right. She jerked her head in that direction, half expecting Diesel to give her crap about taking the trash out, but she didn’t see anything and searched the shadows for movement.

“Thought there was nothing between you and Bigfoot.”

Tracey whipped around at the chilling voice, coming face-to-face with the creepy guy in the denim jacket who had come to the bar last night. She dropped the trash bag. The hair on the back of her neck prickled as he stepped closer, and she stepped back, panic spreading like wildfire through her chest. Her back hit another man, and she gasped, turning as her brain kicked into gear. She drove her elbow into his gut. He keeled forward, cursing. She grabbed his shoulders, driving her knee into his groin, and bolted for the door. But they were too fast. The guy in the jacket grabbed her arm and threw her against the dumpster. Her face smacked against metal, and she saw stars, crying out as she collapsed to the ground. Pain seared through her body, and she tried to crawl away, but they were on her in seconds, dragging her backward, pulling her to her feet. One guy slammed her against the dumpster again, sharp metal digging into her back. The other guy tore at her shirt, groping her as she flailed and kicked, screaming and cursing. Someone hit her across the face, and she cried out again, fury surging inside her. She jerked her arm free, clawing at one guy’s eyes. He grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back so hard she shrieked, pain searing down her back as he seethed, “You little bitch. I was gonna play nice last night. Now you’ll play by my rules.”

“Fuck you.” She spat in his face, unwilling to go down without a fight.