“What? I’m not good enough for ya, girly?”
He shoved her back hard enough that she knew she would have a bruise across her back. She fought him, calling for help, but the others just laughed and egged him on. When he released her with one hand to grab painfully onto her breast, she managed to twist and drop as she had once been taught in a self-defense class, and brought her elbow up into his groin, but he twisted at the last second, and she only got his thigh.
“Try to castrate me, will ya?” he shouted, grabbing the bodice of her dress with one hand and backhanding her with the other.
Her bodice tore, and she went flying; the back of her head hit the hardwood bar front with a sickening “thunk.” Blackness danced at the edges of her vision as she slid down to the floor. Then the man was on her, tearing the rest of her dress away.
Mel thought she screamed but couldn’t be certain. Then there was a ferocious-sounding roar and the man on top of her disappeared. More screams followed, and Mel struggled futilely to see what was going on, but all she saw was a chaotic mass of dark shadows throwing people around. Shouts and screams were so loud they hurt her head, and she finally closed her eyes, resigned to whatever fate brought.
Then suddenly, a single male voice reached her.
“Easy now,” he said, and the voice was low-pitched with a hint of a rumble.
When hands lay on her shoulders, she tensed in anticipation of another blow, but these hands, though big, were gentle as they steadied her. Light fingers reached around to feel the back of her head, and Mel cried out in pain.
“Sorry ’bout that,” he said, as she felt him lightly searching through her hair. “The skin’s not broken, but you’ve got a helluva lump coming on. Can you look at me, now?”
Mel managed to open her eyes and found herself staring into familiar deep golden eyes. She couldn’t stop trembling. After a long moment of studying her, the man finally smiled.
“How many fingers,” he asked, holding his hand in front of her face.
Mel blinked hard and tried to focus on his fingers.
“Two,” she said, surprised somewhat that her voice actually worked.
Unable to meet his eyes again, she glanced down and stared in shock. The man who had attacked her had ripped the top of her dress away, and since she hadn’t been able to wear a bra with that clingy black sheath, she was completely naked from the waist up.
“Oh, my God!”
She felt herself blushing deeply as she fumbled with the tattered remains of her dress in a frantic attempt to cover her nakedness.
“Here. Take this.”
The man quickly pulled off his flannel shirt and helped her into it. She’d never felt so embarrassed or so helpless. He had to guide her fumbling arms into the sleeves, and when her uncoordinated fingers couldn’t manage the buttons, he brushed her hands away and buttoned it up for her. When he had finished, she hugged the shirt close to her. The flannel was soft and warm and smelled of something musky but not unpleasant.
“We need to get you outta here,” he said. “Do you think you can stand?”
Mel nodded then wished she hadn’t. “I think so.”
“Okay. Here we go.”
His strength left her dazed as he pulled her effortlessly to her feet. When she wobbled and would have gone down, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her close against him. She could feel the hardness of him through his t-shirt, and while strong men normally made her very nervous, for once she was content to rest her head against a sturdy shoulder.
“Your kind ain’t welcome here,” someone growled.
Mel managed to look up and see it was the bartender who had spoken. He held a baseball bat in his hands and looked as though he was ready to use it on someone.
“Hey, we’re not the ones who tried…”
An older man, who had the same build, coloring, and eyes as her rescuer, laid one big hand on the shoulder of a younger man who was obviously related, effectively silencing him.
“We won’t be back,” the man said, reaching into his pocket and laying a wad of cash on the counter.
“See that you don’t,” the bartender spat, scooping up the money.
“No worries.”
The big man patted the younger on the shoulder, and they turned toward her.
“You need any help?” the man asked.
She felt the man holding her shake his head. “I have her.”
“Good. Let’s get out of here.”
As they were leaving, Mel managed to look around the room. All the tough-looking bikers were just standing around, staring at her rescuers and looking uneasy. No one said another word or made a move to stop them. Then she saw the man who had assaulted her. He was lying on the floor, moaning. His shirt was in tatters, as though it had been ripped apart by claws, and there was blood everywhere.
Dear God…
She felt the man helping her tighten his hold when she hesitated.