Pretty hazel eyes lock on me, wide with wariness. Delicate freckles stand out like stars against the pale bridge of her nose,and fuck, she’s even more beautiful up close. A stupid man would take her delicate build as fragile, but I’ve seen what she can do and I know for a fact this woman is forged from solid steel.
She raises her roll of papers and backs away, her voice a fierceness that hits me like a gut punch. “Keep back.”
The world narrows to her. The rapid rise and fall of her chest, the way her black hair clings to her sweat-damp neck, the faint tremble in her grip that speaks of horrors I ache to erase. Bullets pepper the ground behind her, kicking up dirt that rains across my boots, but I raise my hands slowly, palms out, my voice dropping to that low rumble I know soothes the wild things.
She looks like she is considering her options. There are not many. Zero in fact, but I just hold my hands where she can see them and let her come to the same conclusion on her own.
“Layla,” I say again with the same patience as before.
“How do you know my name?”
I take in the bleeding scrapes, the bruises and the barely-there clothing they’ve forced her to wear. I wish I could personally eradicate this world of every single Vulture with my bare hands for what they’ve done to her.
“I’ve been hunting you for a very long time. You and I have a friend in common.”
Her eyes flicker, doubt warring with desperation, and she snorts, waving those papers like a weapon when I take a step closer.
“Unlikely. I don't hang around assholes, willingly that is.”
That pulls a smirk on the edge of my lip and it makes something in her expression soften. I keep my voice pitched low and soft when I say, “I hear you, Doc. I think you know an FBI agent by the name of Harlow Montgomery?”
She glances at my cut, my T-shirt, boots and black jeans.
“But you’re a Vulture.”
I watch confusion march over her beautiful expression.
“That is a negative, Doc. I’m a Savage.”
“But the leather cut,” she argues and takes a half a step back.
I lift a shoulder. “You’re about to learn there’s more than one crew of bikers in this area and we are the good guys.”
I turn and show her the Savage Reign patch gleaming on my back and I see recognition dawn, her shoulders easing a fraction.
A Vulture rounds the bend then, gun blazing, and instinct takes over.
I shove her behind me, my body a wall between her and the threat, firing two rounds that drop the Vulture mid-stride.
She gasps, pressing close, her bare skin brushing my arm, sending a jolt through me hotter than the gunfire.
“Stay behind me and move,” I growl, reloading on the move, and she does.
We get a few more yards down the road and I pull us to a stop. I shrug out of my cut and put it on her before we move again.
She inhales deeply and I see her physically relax, though we are not out of danger from dying yet.
When another Vulture charges, I drop him and push her farther down the road. I wrap my arm around her and pull her into my side, her small frame firmly against mine. The heat of her body radiates through my shirt, her scent—sweat, smoke, and something sweet like wildflowers—floods my senses and makes my blood roar with a need to protect her with my life.
God, I’ve dreamed of this woman every night. Hell, I memorized her face until it haunted my sleep, but nothing prepared me for the reality of her. The way her hazel eyes flash with fire behind those glasses makes me proud. And I won’t lie. The delicate curves of her sweet body under my borrowed cut pull a primal need to mark her.
She's scratched and bruised, her underwear torn at the edges, but she's fighting for her life despite the odds stacked against her for so long. It takes everything not to pull her against me right there, to press my lips to her freckled nose and vow the world won't touch her again.
Relief crashes through me like a wave, weakening my knees. I want to drop to the dirt, bury my face in her hair, and sob gratitude that she's here and all mine to protect.
But there’s no time. More shouts echo from the hill, Vultures flush from the burning sheds like roaches, flames now a full inferno devouring the lab and mansion wings. Rafael is going to be pissed off, but he should have known better than to take money from these fuckers.
I quickly eliminate a threat just in time to see another bounding down the hillside. I raise my weapon and fire.
