Motorhead watches me from across the bar. He’s always watching me. It should bother me, I know that it should, but it doesn’t. He rescued me, he and his Notorious Devils.

Lucifer was just as his name depicted, the fucking devil. Just thinking about him makes my body tremble. I run my shaky fingers through my long dark hair and let out a breath.

“You okay?” Traci asks from beside me.

I jump slightly and tip my head to the side, looking at the woman. She’s been managing the bar since I started here. She’s hard as nails, but she’s fair, and she’s been really great to me. Her blonde hair is pulled up into a tight ponytail and her eyes are questioning as she gazes at me.

“I’m okay,” I nod, giving her a fake smile. She shrugs then walks away.

Turning my head back, I search for Motorhead. He’s gone from his spot and I frown in disappointment. I shouldn’t be anything but glad that he’s not sitting in his usual place staring at me, but I’m not.

I like the way he looks at me as if I’m something fragile, important—special.

I’ve never been that to a man before. I’ve only ever been, convenient, used—easily discarded. It feels different with Motorhead. I feel like I’m precious when I’m around him.

“How about a beer, baby?” a voice asks from the other side of the bar.

I jump slightly, startled by his question, and give him a tight smile as I lift my chin. I go about my duty, taking a cold glass out of the refrigerator, then filling it with beer that is on tap.

Cash Bar isn’t like most bars. Ginger orders a beer of the week, and that’s all that is available on tap. Except for members of the Notorious Devils, there is a special refrigerator for just their drinks behind the bar. It was the way her uncle ran the place, and she hasn’t changed a thing about it.

I hand the stranger his drink, then try to busy myself by wiping down the bar, and washing glasses.

“So, how long you lived here? I’ve never seen you in town before,” the stranger murmurs.

Glancing up, I notice that he’s focused on me. His focus is intense, in a way where the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention, and a shiver runs down my spine.

What I want to do is look around in a panic for Motorhead. However, I don’t. I keep my gaze level and steady, on the stranger, attempting to give none of my fearful emotions away. He tips his head to the side and gives me a smirk.

“I’ve been here a while,” I lie.

His smirk turns into a wide smile and he shakes his head once. “Liar,” he whispers. “You were Lucifer’s toy. Just because he’s gone, don’t mean you’re free, Esme.”

It takes everything inside of me to hold back the whimper that threatens to escape my body. I don’t recognize this man, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t know who I am. Obviously, he does.

Lucifer’s evil ranged far and wide, as did his contacts. He reaches forward and runs a finger along the side of my face, then traces my lips with it.

“You’re going to be fun to break in, that is if Lucifer didn’t already break you,” he rasps.

“Take your hand off my woman,” Motorhead’s voice growls from behind the stranger.

My eyes lift, and what I see shining back in his gaze is truly terrifying. He looks about ready to murder this man, by the rage that shines in his blue eyes I don’t think he’ll kill him swiftly, he’s going to make him suffer if he gets his way.

“Motorhead,” I whisper.

He doesn’t look at me or even acknowledge my existence. The only thing he is focused on is this stranger. I watch as the man stands from his place, turns around and looks directly across from Motorhead. They’re matched in height, but Motorhead has about fifty pounds of pure muscle on him.

“She ain’t marked, and if she is, it wouldn’t be by you,” he spits.

Motorhead growls, leaning forward he grinds out. “Who would she be marked by, then?” he asks.

The man laughs, shaking his head before his spine straightens and his muscles bunch at his back. “You know who, Lucifer,” he murmurs.

Motorhead shakes his head once, then spits on the bar’s cement floor. “Knew by the way you slithered up to the bar as soon as I walked out to take a call, that you were connected to that snake.”

“She was his, and now she’s mine,” he announces.

Motorhead laughs, the sound sharp and humorless. “Says who? That dead fat fuck? He ain’t shit, and now he’s dead. Esme ain’t yours, and she was never his. He took her, and held her against her will,” he says.

My face heats as people around the bar become interested in this faceoff. Now whoever didn’t know about me, does.

I hate that.

I would rather be anonymous than be known as the girl who was kidnapped. Although, both Hayden and Ginger were kidnapped as well, it seems to be a trend around here.

The stranger turns around, ignoring Motorhead, and his eyes meet mine. “I’ll take you back to where you belong, Esme. Sooner or later,” he states. He makes a gasping sound as blood sprays all over my face and body. Traci lets out a scream from somewhere behind me, but I’m frozen still.

My eyes lift from the gruesome sight in front of me, to meet with Motorhead’s. He doesn’t speak to me, turning his head, I watch as his mouth moves, but I can’t hear anything. The ringing in my ears, the absolute shock has rendered me frozen.