I knew she wanted a agency hand, perhaps even firmer, since she was so robust now. She wouldn’t refuse me. I snaked my different arm round her waist, tugging her physique in opposition to the rod in my denims. I might really feel her physique quake in opposition to mine as she started to offer in.

Then, outta nowhere, a gunshot cracked via the air, chaos erupting round us, sending patrons scrambling. Intuition kicked in. I shoved Star down, overlaying her with my physique to protect her from the bullets or no matter hell was breaking unfastened.

Pinned shut, her physique in opposition to mine, the hazard of the second made it clear how a lot I needed her, wanted her. Mendacity there on the dirty ground, the world exterior light, leaving simply the uncooked, plain pull between us.

“You good?” I requested, scanning the room for the shooter, my voice tough with concern.

“Yeah,” she answered, surprisingly calm.

After I noticed the shooter reserving it out, adrenaline surged. I used to be off Brat straight away, pulling her to her ft with a rush of urgency. “I’m going after him,” I declared, the choice agency in my voice.

She was fast to affix in. “I’m with you.”

I hit the pavement, heading for my bike, half wishing she’d leap on behind me. However Star, true to her hearth, hopped on her bike, engines roaring, declaring her personal fierce independence loud and clear.

The chase kicked into excessive gear. Our mark was tearing up the late-night site visitors in a automotive, dodging via like a bat outta hell. Brat blasted forward, her Harley roaring, her fiery hair streaming behind her as she received proper up on the automotive’s tail. My coronary heart was hammering, adrenaline pumping for the chase but in addition out of actual concern for her.

I watched, coronary heart in my throat, as she flirted with hazard, maneuvering her bike with a daredevil’s grace. I throttled my bike, pushing to catch up. Then some jackass in a automotive lower throughout, almost taking me out, forcing me to swerve arduous. However my eyes stayed glued on Brat. Admiration combined with an excellent dose of concern watching her sq. up in opposition to the automotive. She was all guts, little doubt, and it each fired me up and scared the shit out of me.

The glint of a gun from the automotive’s window ramped up my concern to full-blown terror.

Earlier than I might react, Brat swerved away, vanishing from my sight. Panic clawed at me, chilly and sharp, as I slammed the brakes and spun round. Screw the chase, screw the shooter. I wanted to seek out Brat, ensure that she was nonetheless in a single piece.

I discovered her fast sufficient. Her bike was trashed within the ditch, protruding like a sore thumb within the evening. My coronary heart rattling close to stopped until I noticed her shifting, attempting to untangle herself from the bike’s mess.

I ditched my bike and was by her facet in a heartbeat. “Star, discuss to me. Are you okay?” My voice was all over. Reduction and fear twisted up as I checked her for accidents.

Seeing her alive, simply shaken, was a weight off. However serving to her up, feeling her lean on me, it hit dwelling arduous. She might’ve been gone. We might’ve misplaced all of it proper there. This entire mess, this conflict brewing between our golf equipment and no matter private hell we had been in, it was actual and lethal.

There in that ditch, together with her leaning on me, one thing shifted between us. The evening’s insanity, the shut name, it peeled again the bullshit, leaving one thing uncooked and actual. Shedding her wasn’t an choice. Not now, not ever.

Chapter 8

Brat

Mendacity there within the ditch, my bike a twisted wreck beside me, an odd calm washed over me. I used to be in a single piece, in some way, regardless of the mayhem that had simply unfolded.

Riptide’s voice broke via my daze, pulling me again to the urgency of the second. “We’ve got to get off the facet of the street,” he insisted, his tone leaving no room to argue. “There was one other automotive, extra males than we thought. We might be at risk.”

His insistence that I include him, coupled along with his commentary that I used to be nonetheless in shock, left little room for protest. Earlier than I knew it, I used to be climbing onto the again of his Harley, wrapping my arms round him. The feeling of the stable, unyielding muscle beneath my palms was disconcerting because it made me really feel too weak. However in my state, that was the least of my worries.

The trip was a blur, my thoughts struggling to course of the evening’s occasions. The chilliness slapping my face, the rumble of the Harley beneath us, the gunshots, the chase. Even the wreck was nothing new. However Riptide, his look in my life, all felt like a dream, a dangerously vivid dream from which I couldn’t wake. A dream that would at any level morph right into a nightmare.

We arrived at his clubhouse, the Lair, they known as it, and he scooped me up honeymoon type to hold me to his condo above it. A person, one other biker, was ready, his palms positive and regular as he checked me over.

“No concussion,” he declared after an intensive examination. “Simply let her get some relaxation.”

Relaxation was a distant idea, however my physique had different concepts. The second my head hit the pillow, exhaustion took over, pulling me down right into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Waking up the following morning was like rising from a cocoon. Each muscle ached, reminding me of my physique being thrown from my Harley. It took me a second, an extended, disorienting second, to comprehend I used to be fully bare, the sheets providing scant protection. Panic fluttered deep inside me as I took in my environment. Not my room, not my mattress, however Riptide’s condo.

As I propped myself up, my gaze wandered, taking within the particulars of his non-public world. The partitions had been a muted shade of grey, a backdrop to the black-and-white images of open roads, towering cliffs, and sprawling deserts, landscapes that spoke of freedom and solitude.

Close to the mattress, a sturdy, darkish wooden dresser stood, its floor clear aside from a couple of private objects, a set of keys, and a weathered pockets. Off to the facet was a small, framed photograph of a youthful man I knew so nicely, smiling beside a motorbike that seemed prefer it had seen higher days. It was a uncommon glimpse into his previous that I’d missed, a second captured earlier than the burden of management had absolutely settled on his shoulders.

The room itself was bigger than I anticipated, with excessive ceilings that made it really feel open, but the tender, thick rug underfoot and the heavy linens that draped the mattress lent a comfy heat to the area. On one facet, a set of French doorways opened to a small balcony, maybe overlooking the again of the clubhouse.

His closet door was ajar, revealing rows of neatly hung leathers and denim, the colours darkish, the materials worn. Draped on a close-by chair was his Seville Slayer’s MC lower, the membership’s insignia embroidered boldly throughout the again. Lingering within the air was the faint scent of motor oil and cologne, which I made a decision was a uniquely Riptide mix that stuffed the area with a presence even in his absence. It was a reminder of the evening earlier than, the scent of his pores and skin as he shielded me from the gunshots.

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