I might be backed into a corner, but I’m ready to fight for my life. My fingers close around the picture frame hanging low near my back on the wall behind me. After the woman introduces herself as Mrs. Cindy Corrigan, that was the end of the pleasantries. It’s pretty much a given that Silas’s mother is not the welcoming committee. That’s for damn sure, so an impromptu weapon is a good thing for me to have on standby, given the circumstances. Trying to keep my movements smooth, I blink and nod as the middle-aged lady continues her intense line of questioning.

“Hey…” Mrs. Corrigan snaps her fingers inches from my face while her other hand is on her left hip. “Rich-Bitch, are you listening?”

Mostly, I’m wondering why the woman has so many questions about her own son. It makes no sense, but I nod anyway hoping not to bump her in the head, since she is in my personal space. I’ve easily bluffed my way out of way more intimidating situations. “Ma’am, I’m sure this is a huge inconvenience for you. I apologize for that, but if you’d just instruct your son to give me back my phone or give me some change to use the payphone outside, I promise I’ll be gone from here within half an hour, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

I lift my lips into a polite smile to help my case.

It’s not working.

Mrs. Corrigan arches a brow. “You think it’s that easy, huh?” Her skepticism is thick in her high-pitched voice, and her aquamarine eyes take on a mix of calm and excitement all at the same time.

“I don’t see why it has to be difficult, Ma’am. Your son helped me, and now I’m fine. I don’t need any more assistance, so if I could just have my phone back, I’ll be gone. No one ever has to know I was here. In fact, I don’t know where here is. I’m great at forgetting.”

“I see.” The older woman bobs her head in a considerate nod, and the brief moment of silence becomes exceedingly more awkward with her death stare. “We have a problem, young lady. Mainly, my son doesn’t see things the way we do, and he can be a spoiled bastard when he gets his mind on certain things.”

“I don’t understand.”

“It looks like we’re at an impasse. As much as I’d love for you to leave, he’s determined for you to stay. Maybe you should have thought twice about giving him a taste of your wondersnatch on the way over here.”

I take a big step backward. “Excuse me?”

“What? Too much of a snobby priss for my language, princess?”

Is this woman joking right now? I clutch the picture frame until my palm hurt, pushing down my impulse to ram it down her throat, followed by my clutch purse. I see where Silas gets his arrogance. It runs in the family.

Taking a deep breath, I try a little brush with reason again. “Ma’am, I really don’t want any trouble. I’m not here for anything you’re worried about, and you don’t have to get involved in my personal business either. You don’t have to help me, but if you would please let me leave, I’ll figure out getting back to Vegas on my own—”

A more suspicious Mrs. Corrigan gets up in my face. We’re within spitting distance but I stand my ground. “What’s your angle? Are you working for the Los Diablos? Did they hire you to do this? You’re a high-class escort playing damsel in distress, aren’t you? Answer me, you bitch.”

This is not the time to crouch in fear, so I take a step forward. I’m in her face. We’re almost nose to nose. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but I keep telling you I don’t want a damn thing from your club,” I say through clenched teeth. “I don’t know anyone from Los Diablos. I’m not an escort, or a damsel in distress. And I don’t have an angle. If someone around here would just listen to me and let me go, maybe you won’t have a problem at all.”

The woman’s lips quirk up in a half-smile. God, that look makes me want to lash out and fight. The suspicious, screw you gleam in the woman’s eyes can push me over the edge if I let it. Mrs. Corrigan isn’t phased in the slightest, but I make an educated guess that being the matriarch of such a notorious motorcycle club takes strength, courage, and the ability to be ruthless when needed. Even so, the woman isn’t the worst I’ve come up against. If I have to, I’ll take her on, but dammit, my Christian Dior one-of-a-kind will probably be ripped to shreds.

If only I can find someone around here who believes me when I say I don’t want to be here at all, and let me go.

That’s plan A. Plan B is to sneak out of here on foot in the middle of the night. If that doesn’t work, plan C is to cause a distraction and steal off with someone’s car keys, and plan D, well I hope I won’t have to burn the place down to get the hell away from here.

“Ma, lay off her, okay? You can continue the interrogation after she’s had time to ease into things.” Silas physically wedges himself in between us. His hand reaches back and circles around my closest hand.

God, that man’s touch does it for me every time, causing a tingle to run up my arm and through my entire body. Why am I having such a hard time stopping myself? I want to press forward into his almost irresistible heat. I shake my head, unable to move away from him with this wall against my back.

“She says she wants to leave.”

“She’s not going anywhere, Ma.”

“Why are you both talking like I’m not standing right here?” I shout. “Look, if you’re going to hold me against my will, can someone maybe let me get a beer out of the deal? I’m thirsty, and I’ve had a long damn day.”

I shut up when both Silas and his mother look backward at me as if they actually did forget I was still here.

“I’ll get it for you.” Silas shoves crumpled clothes at me. “Give me a second. I’ll find you a place to change.”

I have to admit that it’s oddly thoughtful of him to anticipate I’d want to change out of my goddamned designer dress. Taking a look around at all the lace, fishnet, and leather-wearing women around me, I can see that their reaction to me has more to do with logic than anything else. With what I’m wearing tonight, I’m like a bright red human dartboard waiting to be someone’s target. No wonder his mother won’t leave me alone.

“Time to blend in…and plot,” I say under my breath as I watch Silas walk away with a firm hand on his mother’s upper arm. The discussion they continue on their way to the bar doesn’t sound like it’s going well. I notice a lot more hand gestures, wild eyes, baring of teeth, and furrowed brows as I stand in the same spot waiting for my drink.