I dropped my head to the steering wheel and took a minute to feel sorry for myself as I imagined the six-o’clock news headline, “Young woman murdered after car breaks down in sketchy area of Portland. It’s surprising since she comes from law-enforcement royalty. Another statistic? It certainly looks that way.”
I’m not entirely sure how long I sat in my dead car and imagined my murder and death before a knock at my window had me squeaking in fright. I glanced out to see an extraordinarily gorgeous man leaning down with a sexy smile on his face. Tall with darkish hair, blue eyes, and a face that could only be described as beautiful, he looked quite a bit like Charlie Hunnam with a full beard and nose ring. He wore a pair of faded jeans that looked like they were made for him, a white thermal, tight-fitting shirt that showcased his muscular chest a bit too well, causing my heart to race and my breathing to catch. A black leather jacket that cemented his sexy as hell look completed the ensemble.
I cranked my window part of the way down... he couldn’t kill me if he could only get his fingers inside, right?
“You lost, darlin’?” he asked.
His voice washed over me and I squirmed in my seat as I tried not to sigh at the slight southern twang. “Um, yeah. A little.”
“Not a great part of town for a pretty girl to get lost in.” He straightened, crossing his arms. “You got someone comin’ for you?”
I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “Both my car and my phone are dead. So, that would be a big fat no.”
“Alright. Why don’t you come with me?”
“No, that’s okay.”
He smiled again. “Sweetheart, my club’s yard is right down the block. I’ll get some of my brothers to push your car into the lot where it’ll be safe, and we can fix it for you tomorrow. In the meantime, you can get out of the cold and either make a phone call or I’ll take you home.”
I bit my lip and pondered my options. The definite probability of dying of starvation and exposure before morning, or the potential of being murdered by the best looking man I’d ever seen were pretty much all I could come up with.
“No one will hurt you, if that’s what concerns you,” he promised.
“I wish that made me feel better,” I admitted. “I mean, I wonder how many women have gone off with some tall, gorgeous man because he said he wouldn’t hurt them, only to be murdered? Super murdered. We’d never know, right? ’Cause they’re dead. Like as in dead, dead, not a little dead, but a lot dead.”
His mouth quivered for a second before he burst out in laughter. “You’ve got a point, darlin’, but if you’re with me, no one’ll touch you.”
“Including you?”
He sobered, but his eyes were still sparkling with humor. “If that’s what you want.”
I rolled the window back up and grabbed my purse and keys. I had a feeling I’d regret this sudden trust I was feeling toward him, but I didn’t really have much of a choice other than to let him help me, so I unlocked my door and climbed out of the car.
He held it for me and slammed it closed once I was on the sidewalk. I’d locked it before he closed it, not that it mattered... no one would steal a piece of crap car like mine and I kept nothing of value in it.
The wind had picked up since I left the restaurant, and I pulled my coat further around me as we walked down the street. “I’m Danielle, by the way. Um, Dani, actually.”
“Booker.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Booker.”
“Just Booker.”
“Oh. Okay.”
He smiled.
“You mentioned your club’s yard.” I frowned. “What kind of yard?”
“This location’s our wreck ’n’ tow yard. Got other businesses in other locations,” he said vaguely. “Anything with an engine, we can tow, fix or build.”
I nodded. “And you said ‘club.’ I’m assuming it’s not a sewing club, right?”
Booker smiled. “Motorcycle club.”
I stopped. It took him a minute to realize I was no longer beside him, which gave me a partial view of the back of his jacket. Dogs of something. Dogs of Wonder? No, that wouldn’t be right... a badass motorcycle guy wouldn’t have Dogs of Wonder on the back of his jacket.
Well, crap!
