Page 42 of The Originals

The corner of his lip curled in a sneer. “Just wanted to get a better look.” His gaze lowered down and up her body. “Alright, I get it now.”

His words were cryptic but nonetheless creepy, especially the way he was looking at her like she was his next meal. Meg pointed past him, noticing her arm shake slightly.

“I have to go. I’m going to be late.”

He cupped his mouth, staring down at her breasts. “I don’t think so. Not done with you yet. In fact, we all haven’t even gotten started.”

Her stomach dropped, and she darted her gaze to the men seated on their bikes by the curb.

“Yeah, I mean, you gotta at least show us what the big fucking deal is with you. If Mick’s willing to take on our club and start a fucking war for pussy, we should at least all get a taste.”

It suddenly clicked who these men were.

Oh God.

One of the guys on the curb started to get off his bike, and she saw the patch on the back of his cut. They weren’t the same guys from the night at the festival, but they were members of the same club. Meg swallowed the knot in her throat, and just as the man stalked toward her, she turned, running back to Main Street. She would have never made it past the biker blocking her, and even if she had, she didn’t want to lead them back to her family. There was no telling what these men were capable of.

When she heard the motorcycles, she ducked down a small alley, running as fast as her legs permitted. It was narrow but still big enough for the motorcycles. They would’ve had to be paying close attention to see her slip down the alley. Secondslater her worst fear came to fruition. Lights beamed down the pitch-black passage, and the rumbling engines were gaining on her. There was a smaller backstreet between the restaurant and jewelry store that she turned down. If they wanted her, they’d have to get off their bikes and chase her. It bought her time.

When she popped out on Main, it was dark and completely empty except for the lights on at Families Restaurant. Meg could hear the motorcycles in the distance, knowing she only had a minute to find refuge. She ran to the front door at Families and tried the handle, but it was locked. She started banging on the door until the owner came to the window and pointed to the sign and mouthed, “We’re closed.”

Panic set in when she saw the headlights turn the corner headed straight down Main Street.

“Please let me in.” She slapped her hand on the door and begged. “Please.”

The owner furrowed his brows and walked over. He unlocked the door, and she rushed in, not stopping until she was halfway across the diner. The owner ducked from the window and shut off the lights.

“They’re chasing you?”

Meg was shaking and rubbing her arms, walking deeper into the diner.

“Who the hell are they?”

“I don’t know.” It was the truth. She had no idea who they were. They weren’t the same guys from the night at the festival. But they were obviously affiliated. “Are they still there?”

The owner slyly crept to the window and peeked out. He glanced over his shoulder and nodded.

“They’re parked across the street.”

Shit!

“Should we call the police?” Meg asked.

He cupped his mouth, angling his head. “They’re with an MC.”

Meg had put that together. The owner walked back to her, eyeing her carefully.

“Saw you in here a couple weeks ago with a Ghosttown Rider. You wanna call him instead of the police? You call the cops, that’s gonna bring a lot of heat to you and both those clubs. Trust me, you don’t want to get on Turnersville PD’s radar.”

Meg hadn’t even considered that. She bit her lip, weighing her options. A police presence was sure to scare them away. But for how long? They obviously knew she lived in Turnersville. It was only a matter of time before they found out her address. Calling Mick to help her was her best option.

Meg nodded, and the owner led her to the phone. She still had the main line to the clubhouse memorized. The first time she dialed, she nearly broke down in tears hearing the busy signal. This was her only way to get through to Mick. He didn’t have a private line. As far as she knew, none of the brothers did at the clubhouse.

Meg grasped her leg, forcing her body to calm as she tried his number again. A sense of relief washed over her when she heard ringing on the other line.

“Yeah?”

“Is Mick there?” Meg blurted, tightening her grip on the receiver.