Twisted Mercy (Red Team Book 4) by Elaine Levine Page B

with her in three strides and spun her around, gripping her arm so that she had to stand on tiptoes.
    “What are you doing out here?”
    She pulled a fortifying breath. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get a head start on tomorrow’s work.”
    “And that’s why you were running around the compound, alone, in the dark, in dark clothes?”
    She clamped her mouth shut.
    “Where’s Feral?” he asked.
    “I don’t know.”
    “He was supposed to be guarding you.”
    “Guarding me? You put a guard on me?”
    Mad Dog shook his head, then released her. “Forget it.”
    “I couldn’t sleep. I thought I’d come down and work on some of the bikes that are queued up. Who are you to tell me I can’t do that?”
    “My compound, my rules.”
    “I didn’t hurt anything. I didn’t bother anyone. I heard a sound over there and went to see what it was.”
    He huffed a dry laugh. “Sure you did. You think there’s no cost for your actions? I told you to stay put tonight.”
    “What? Are you going to hit me?” She spread her arms. “Try it.”
    He shook his head. He pivoted and started back for his bike. “The cost comes out of Feral’s hide. Your actions are going to get him booted from the club.”
    Hope hurried around in front of him, walking backwards as he moved forward. “No. Not Feral. He didn’t know.”
    “He’s my hang-around. I’m responsible for his actions. If he can’t follow an order, I don’t want him in the club.”
    “Mad Dog. Stop.” She pushed against his chest, her puny strength no match for his, but he stopped anyway. “Please. Don’t do this.”
    “There is a cost for every decision, Hope.”
    “I know. It’s true, there is. Take it out of my hide. Don’t boot Feral. He’s just a kid.”
    Max lifted his hand to grip her neck. She felt the hammering of her pulse under the dam of his thumb. His grip tightened as he moved her out of his path. She moved right back in front of him. He bent down to her. “Move aside.”
    “You can’t do this to him.”
    “I’m not. You did.” He stepped around her and continued on.
    “Please. Find another way.” They’d reached his bike. “Please,” she begged in a fervent whisper. “He was hungry. He ate the fruit and my leftovers. He’s just a kid.”
    Mad Dog started his bike. “Get on.” She looked back at her truck. “Get. On. Now.” She straddled the bike. “Put the helmet on.” She did, then wrapped her arms around him and held on.  
    They cut across the compound grounds and headed out the main gate. No one stood guard; no one was a witness to the fact that he was headed to do God-knows-what to Feral.
    At the house, she hopped off the bike as soon as he parked. He stormed into his cabin, taking the front stairs two at a time. The door slammed behind him. Only a single light illuminated the space, but it was enough for her to see Mad Dog lift Feral off his futon. She held her hands over her mouth as he shouted at Feral, then stood frozen in place as he tossed the kid onto the porch.  
    Feral stumbled down the stairs and went past her on his way to his old car. “I’m sorry,” she said. He didn’t look at her. He slammed his car door and drove off, leaving her alone with a very angry Mad Dog. He was crazy mad. She realized the nickname Feral gave him fit perfectly.  
    Mads stepped in front of her. She lifted her gaze. “Do what you want to me. I don’t care. I’m not going to be here long. But Feral, he looks up to you. You’re a hero to him.”
    “Whatever I want?” Mads asked, ignoring her latest plea for his hang-around.
    He stepped into her space. She put her hands on his chest—to stop him or brace herself, she wasn’t sure. She cringed when he palmed her face, expecting a strike. Her reaction made his nostrils flare. He bent his head and captured her mouth, pulling her up against his body with his other hand.  
    His rough beard ground into her chin and cheek as he deepened the kiss. She could feel the