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get there.”
    * * *
    “My kind of place.” Sparks crawled from the driver’s
seat and greedily eyed the Harley-Davidsons parked in a neat row. “I’m in
heaven. Hog heaven.”
    Artair tugged off the cover of the hidden cache of weapons and
pulled out the same sword he’d used before. Staring at the swords and knives,
Rebecca swallowed hard. “You really think you’ll need that?”
    “Nay, but ’tis best to be prepared.” He slid the sword into the
scabbard that rested against his hip.
    Sparks came around to grab a large knife, staring at it in
admiration. Then she slid it into her boot and belted a sword at her side.
    “You best take a dirk, lass.” Artair nodded toward the
weapons.
    “What’s a dirk?”
    Sparks shook her head, making Rebecca feel like a child being
told not to play with matches because she might get burned. “Shit, a knife that
big? She’d just stab herself or put out an eye, Artair.”
    He plucked a weapon from the stack and laid it across his
outstretched forearm, holding it out to her like a waiter serving an entrée. “A
dirk, m’lady,” he said with a cynical grin. “Think you can handle one?”
    Rebecca shook her head before he even finished the question. It
was the kind of weapon only found in violent video games. Huge and dangerous. “I
don’t want one of those. I couldn’t hurt anyone.”
    “You’ll learn.” His eyes burned holes right through her, and
somehow she knew he was disappointed by her reluctance.
    Whether she disappointed him or not, she wasn’t about to carry
around a weapon like that, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to stab some Hell’s
Angel.
    He frowned and dropped the dirk back in the bin before throwing
the cover over the stash.
    She squeaked in surprise when he suddenly crawled inside the
van.
    Damn, but the man moved fast. He crouched beside her, grabbed
the skirt of her dress and shredded it with his knife, cutting it up to
mid-thigh. Then he twirled her around and finished ripping off the majority of
the material. Her two-thousand-dollar wedding gown with the beautiful train of
bows, beads and ruffles now had a frayed miniskirt. Thank God, she still wore
the slip so he couldn’t gawk at her bare legs.
    “Take off that—that—underdress,” Artair ordered, tugging at her
thick slip.
    “No way.” Rebecca plopped down and stubbornly folded her arms
over her breasts.
    He sat down hard, making the van rock before dragging her face
first across his lap and slipping his hand up her legs, under her mangled dress.
“Where does this unfasten?” His hands moved across her before a zipper hummed. A
few seconds later, he tugged the material off her legs.
    “I won’t let you touch me! Don’t touch me!” She jerked her
hands free and tried to get to her feet, but Artair put a strong hand against
the small of her back, pushing her against his lap.
    He gave her a hard swat on her butt. “Set your arse down. If
you insist on wearing all that—that—fluff, you won’t be able to run if need be.
I’m just trying to free you.” He dragged the slip the rest of the way down her
legs and dropped it next to her face. “’Tis all I
wanted to touch. Nae more. You flatter yourself thinking otherwise.” He rolled
her off his lap, and she landed on her ass. Before she could fire any sort of
scathing retort, Artair had already made his way out of the van. “Time to get
Megan.”
    “I’ll stay here,” Rebecca announced. “You guys go have your
fun.”
    “You will not.” He reached in to grab her arm and hauled her
outside. It appeared she had no choice in the matter.
    Knowing the type of people who frequented this kind of
establishment, the three of them would never survive if they went in and tried
to drag a woman out, especially if Megan was as reluctant to come as Rebecca had
been. Hell, if this day continued on its present course, they would all get
knifed to death by heavily tattooed men in black leather.
    “Aye, Sparks. You’re right. ’Tis a