“Micah, stop! What are you doing?”
There was a spark of anger in her brown eyes, but he ignored that. She could be pissed all she wanted, but he was getting her the hell out of here.
Now that she was at least covered, he herded her along the edge of the room toward the door. They entered the hallway that led to the stairs, and he all but dragged her down the staircase and into the hall leading to the front entrance.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked.
There was trust in her tone, and it pissed him off more than finding her here. He’d just flogged her, seen her naked, lusted over ... touched her. For God’s sake. This never should have happened. He hated himself, but he was angrier with her. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t even know places like this existed.
“Out of here,” he said gruffly. “Not another word until I get you home. I swear, Angelina, I don’t know what the hell you thought you were doing, but it ends right here, right now.”
One of Damon’s burly security men stepped in front of the door and folded his beefy arms over his chest as he stared belligerently at Micah.
“Goddamn it, Mav, get out of the way,” Micah swore.
“Micah, what the f**k are you doing?”
Micah turned around to see his good friend and the owner of The House, Damon Roche, striding down the hall from his office. He sighed, irritated with the interruption. He kept a firm grip on Angelina’s arm while he waited for Damon to say his piece.
“Well?” Damon asked when he stopped a few feet away. His eyes were narrowed, the classic Damon annoyed expression, but he didn’t say anything further. He merely pinned Micah with an expectant stare and waited.
“Well f**king what?”
Damon made a move toward Angelina, and Micah pulled her back. The sheet slid down over her shoulders, but she held the ends tightly around her br**sts. Her hair was pulled around and hung down one side, and Micah could see the marks—his marks—on her back, and the knot grew bigger in his gut.
He yanked the sheet back up, covering the bare expanse of her skin as if that would somehow erase what had happened just minutes before.
“You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing?” Damon demanded. “Jesus Christ, Micah, have you lost your mind? Let her go. Now.”
Micah scowled at the challenge in Damon’s voice. Mav took a step forward and reached for Angelina. It didn’t matter that Damon and Mav were obviously trying to protect Angelina.
“Don’t you f**king touch her.”
May looked to Damon for guidance, and Damon held his hand up to stay his security man.
“You can’t come in here, grab one of my club members—hell, you can’t pull this shit here with anyone, member or not—and drag her out of here against her will. What’s come over you, Micah?”
Micah glanced at Angelina and wondered why the hell she was being so quiet. She hadn’t said much more than a few words. He couldn’t even conjure guilt over the notion that she was unwilling. She sure as hell hadn’t been unwilling when she’d given him that sultry invitation with those deep brown eyes. Christ, she’d had him whip her. He wanted to puke.
“This is a private matter between me and Angelina,” Micah said.
“I’m not letting you leave here with her,” Damon said calmly.
Angelina put her hand on Damon’s arm. It looked small and dainty in comparison, and all Micah could think was that those hands had been tied together while he marked her naked body.
“It’s all right, Damon,” she said in a low voice.
She trembled in Micah’s grip, and he loosened his hold. His gaze dropped over her arm to make sure there were no marks from his fingers. He’d done enough damage for one night. Now he just wanted to get her out of this place as fast as humanly possible.
“Do you know Micah, Angelina?” Damon asked, his expression skeptical. “You don’t have to go with him, friend of mine or not. My first responsibility is to my members here. I wouldn’t allow any woman to be manhandled as Micah has done you.”
“Member?” Micah bit out. “Are you telling me Angelina is a goddamn member?”
He looked to her for confirmation, but she wouldn’t look at him. She was staring at Damon, her expression calm.
“I know him,” she said simply. “He won’t hurt me. He’s angry because he doesn’t understand.”
“Understand?” His head was going to explode. “I understand that I’m getting you the hell out of this place, and under no circumstances are you to ever set foot in here again.” He glared at Damon as he said the last. “And I expect you to see to it.”
“What’s going on here?” Damon demanded. “This isn’t like you, Micah. I won’t let you walk out of here until one of you provides me with an acceptable explanation.”
“She’s David’s sister!”
Damon’s eyes flickered as understanding dawned. “I see.”
Micah made a sound of disgust. “No, you don’t see. Christ, Damon, you’re letting teenagers in here now?”
Angelina turned to him, one finely arched eyebrow creeping upward. “I’m twenty-three years old, Micah. Hardly a teenager. Certainly not in need of a babysitter, though you seem keen to sign up for the job.”
He stared back at her in disbelief. Confusion jacked through his mind like a buzz saw. Twenty-three? How had she gotten from a sixteen-year-old to a woman of twenty-three? Had it really been so long? How could he have lost so many years?
“At least let her dress,” Damon said quietly. “There’s no need to take her out like this. I’ll send Maverick up for her clothing.” Then he glanced at Angelina. “Do you want to leave with him, Angelina? I’ll be more than happy to provide a ride home for you. I can arrange for one of my men to take your car home.”
“She’s leaving with me,” Micah growled. “Now, if we can dispense with the chitchat, I’d like us to be on our way.”
Damon motioned for Maverick to go upstairs to retrieve her clothes, and then he reached for Angelina’s hand.
“You can change in there,” he said, pointing to one of the rooms a few feet away.
She looked expectantly toward Micah and then dropped her gaze pointedly to his hand on her arm. Grudgingly he let it fall away.