A sleek, new Harley-Davidson motorcycle pulled up stylishly to the bar's back door. Long legs in high heels effortlessly braced the heavy machine.
The helmet was removed, revealing a breathtakingly beautiful face.
Silver hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her pale, lake-green eyes, set in a face with a high nose bridge and defined features, narrowed slightly. She looked like a drowsy snow leopard, both beautiful and dangerous.
The woman stretched, helmet in hand, her figure perfectly outlined by the tight motorcycle suit.
Sherry hung the helmet on the handlebar and pushed open the door, striding lazily into the bar on her high heels.
Inside, the music was deafening, yet it seemed to instantly hush the moment Sherry entered.
People held their breath, staring at this stunning woman. Her silver hair gleamed under the lights, starkly out of place amidst the grime.
Sherry ignored the stares from every man and woman in the bar, navigating the dance floor with practiced ease.
"Hey, honey," a man on stage dared to whistle.
"Oh, hi there, darling," Sherry turned her head slightly, squinting. She took two fingers to her lips and blew him a kiss.
The crowd erupted. Whistles and cheers filled the air. Someone on stage slung an arm around the whistling man's shoulders as people cheered and danced.
Sherry was very beautiful. She possessed the kind of allure that could drive people wild.
Meanwhile, on the second floor of the infirmary, Dixie lay sound asleep on the medical cot.
Melissa stood with her arms crossed, looking at the bandaged girl. Dixie had short, fine black hair.
Her brow was slightly furrowed, long, dark lashes resting over bruised eyes. Pale skin dotted with freckles stretched over her face.
She looked fragile and docile, almost impossible to reconcile with the creature who had attacked like a rabid animal.
The girl wasn't actually short; she appeared to be around 5'5". But her frame was painfully thin, ribs visible, making her seem small enough to be lifted with one hand.
Small, my ass, Melissa thought. This kid bites like a wolf.
Just then, Dixie's brow furrowed slightly. Her dark lashes fluttered, and slowly, her eyes opened.
Jet-black eyes, deep enough to swallow everything.
"Awake?"
"..." Dixie lay still for a moment, adjusting. Then, slowly, she pushed herself up to sit, swaying slightly. Pain flared beneath her ribs, making her wince.
Melissa leaned against the foot of the bed, arms still crossed, waiting for tears or words.
Dixie sat upright, leaning back against the headboard. Her longish fringe fell beside her cheeks.
Hunched shoulders made her look pitiful.
"Hey, kid," Melissa said flatly, holding out a glass of water. "Going to cry?"
"..."
Dixie seemed startled out of her thoughts, instinctively hunching further. Her eyes snapped open, locking directly onto Melissa's.
Seeing that look, Melissa felt a phantom pain from the bite wound on her arm. She thrust the water glass into Dixie's hand and quickly took two steps back.
"Know where you are?"
Dixie held the glass. Her lips moved. "...Yes."
After a pause, as if gathering immense courage, Dixie swallowed hard and whispered, "Got any food?"
"..." Melissa was surprised, her eyebrow arching involuntarily. "Wait here." She turned and left, leaving Dixie alone in the infirmary.
When Melissa returned with a few rolls of bread, she found only an empty bed and blood splattered on the floor from a ripped-out IV line.
"Sh*t!" Melissa's face twisted in fury. She slammed her hand on the wall intercom. "Jensen! Borg! Anyone! Get to the infirmary! The kid's gone!"
Every room on the bar's second floor had an intercom directly linked to the enforcers' rooms. In a place like this, trouble often arrives faster than pleasure.
So, when Melissa hit the intercom, a grim-faced Jensen burst out of his room moments later.
Fuming, Melissa threw the bread rolls onto a table. Sounds of pursuit and struggle erupted from downstairs, punctuated by Jensen's terrifying roars, laced with Spanish curses.
A series of crashes followed. Jensen kicked open the infirmary door, dragging Dixie by her collar as she struggled fiercely.
He threw her roughly to the floor. Dixie's back hit a cabinet with a heavy thud, forcing her into a pained curl.
"Easy, Jensen!" Melissa snapped, anger flashing in her eyes. "Trying to make your money vanish?"
"Shut up!" Jensen roared back, leaning aggressively into Melissa's face. "Can't you fu*king watch one d*mn kid?!"
"Who expected her to run?!"
Jensen's frame almost completely overshadowed Melissa, but she showed no fear. She slammed her hand on the table, her voice rising even higher than his. "Could you?! Could you?! What the h*ll did you bring back?!"
Jensen pressed his tongue against his cheek, narrowing his eyes. He nodded slowly, then shifted his gaze to Dixie on the floor. In a few strides, he hauled the girl, who was trying to get up, to her feet.
Blood trickled from Dixie's lip. Her right cheek was swollen – clearly from a slap.
Wrenched upright, Dixie clenched Jensen's wrists with both hands. Her lips pressed together, those black eyes wide open and fixed unblinkingly on him.
"Enough, Jensen," Melissa closed her eyes briefly, trying to regain composure. "Put her down."
"...F*ck." Jensen let go. Dixie dropped straight back to the floor.
She pushed herself up with her hands. Jensen slowly crouched down, bringing his face close to hers.
Dixie's slightly trembling black eyes stared straight back. Their noses were almost touching.
Jensen lit a cigarette, took a drag, and blew the acrid smoke directly into Dixie's face.
She watched him intently, lips pressed tight, unmoving.
"Going to run again, kid?"
Jensen asked.
"...Yes."
Dixie answered clearly and firmly.
"Sh*t!" Jensen exploded, his hand flying up to strike.
"Hey, Jensen."
A whistle saved Dixie's life. Jensen's hand froze midair. His expression stiffened as he turned.
A sensual woman leaned against the doorway. She'd changed out of her motorcycle suit into a fitted top and leather pants. Her silver curls were pulled high into a ponytail. Her perfect figure was accentuated by her casual pose.
"What's that?" Sherry asked, a slender, unlit cigarette dangling from her fingers. She gestured towards Dixie with a smile, the earring dangling from her ear swaying.
"...Just a kid," Jensen stood up, revealing Dixie crumpled on the floor.
Sherry looked Dixie up and down, her eyebrow lifting with interest. She tucked the cigarette away and walked over.
Dixie tilted her head back, lifting her long lashes to meet Sherry's pale green gaze. She froze instantly, eyes widening slightly.
Ah.
Sherry's silver curls, her pale lake-green eyes, and the appraising gaze hidden behind the amusement reflected in Dixie's dilated pupils.
Dangerous and beautiful.
Confusion washed over Dixie's dirty face. Her clear eyes held only Sherry.
A touch reverent. A touch pitiful.
Sherry walked up to Dixie and crouched before her. She narrowed those captivating eyes, leaning closer.
A faint scent of roses, as alluring and dangerous as the woman herself, reached Dixie.
To embrace her so recklessly would surely leave one bleeding.
Dixie's pupils shifted. A fanatical worship of power surfaced in her dark eyes. Her breathing grew shallow.
Under Dixie's intense, naked stare, Sherry couldn't help but laugh. She deliberately leaned even closer to the tense little creature.
Dixie's lashes fluttered. She held her breath.
This time, Sherry was patient. She gazed at the wildness in the girl's eyes, then reached out and gently touched Dixie's swollen cheek.
"Hurts, little one?"
Dixie stared straight into those lake-water eyes. Her throat moved several times before she found her voice. "No..."
"Good girl," Sherry smiled. Her long fingers hooked under Dixie's chin. Dixie didn't resist, her eyes fixed on Sherry as she obediently lifted her head.
Sherry tilted her head, visually assessing the injuries on Dixie's body. Then she released her chin and stood up.
Jensen, who had been waiting, had already finished a cigarette. Sherry walked over, patted his shoulder, and drew him aside, lowering her voice.
"Jensen, what are you planning for her?"
"Send her to the girls. What else?"
Jensen shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his broad shoulders. He glanced back at Dixie, who still sat staring up at Sherry, seemingly dazed.
"Come on," Sherry pulled out the slender cigarette and lit it. Smoke curled around her silver hair.
"You think she's cut out for that?"
"...H*ll, some man will take her."
"You need muscle, Jensen," Sherry took a drag. Her beautiful face was half-hidden in the smoke.
"Didn't Irwin die last year?"
"Muscle? Her?"
Even Jensen couldn't help raising his eyebrows. He stepped forward, his voice rough. "Look at her...?"
"..." Sherry said nothing. She simply took a slow drag and glanced at Jensen, instantly silencing the burly, volatile man.
Jensen swallowed the rest of his sentence. Sherry's easy smile returned as she exhaled a plume of smoke, the pressure she'd exerted vanishing instantly. "No matter. Let's make a bet."
"What?"
Jensen blinked, speaking softly.
"A bet. Let's see if she's fit for the girls." Sherry smiled, her eyes crinkling languidly. She gave
Jensen's shoulder another pat, then walked over to Melissa, who had been leaning against the wall with her arms crossed. Sherry pulled a small bag from her pocket.
"Here. What you wanted."
Melissa took it with a scowl. She pinched the powder inside the bag through the plastic, her expression softening slightly. "Mmm. Thanks, Sherry."
"Don't mention it," Sherry saw Melissa reaching for her pocket, likely for cash, and stopped her hand.
"Oh no no, I don't need that."
"Yeah," Melissa shoved the money back into her pocket, a sarcastic twist to her lips as she raised an eyebrow. "With just a word from you, men line up to throw money at your feet."
Sherry shook her head, smiling noncommittally. "Oh darling, don't be catty."
With that, Sherry waved the cigarette in a farewell gesture and strode out, her long earrings swinging with each step of her leather boots.
Leaving Jensen and Melissa staring at each other.
"Muscle? Hah." Jensen snorted, his face taut. He turned and stalked towards Dixie, still sitting on the floor. She snapped out of her daze the moment he took his first step, watching him warily as he approached.
Jensen lifted his leg and kicked Dixie hard in the side. She curled up, wrapping her arms around her head as she hit the floor with another *thud*.
"Cough...!"
"Thank your god, brat," Jensen growled, kicking her again. "D*mn lucky."
"Enough, Jensen!" Melissa snapped sharply. "Stop acting like a coward taking it out on her."
Jensen cursed a few more times before turning and leaving.
Melissa, clearly still furious about the escape, snatched the bread rolls from the table and threw them into the trash bin. "No food for you, kid."
Dixie lay curled on the floor. One eye, visible through her tangled black hair, burned with intensity, fixed on the trash bin.
Sure enough, later that night, when Melissa wasn't watching, Dixie ravenously devoured those bread rolls.