“I said behind me, Doc.”
I pull her closer and she wraps her arms around me so that her front presses against my back.
I try to keep my dick from getting involved, but I’m instantly hard and the feel of her body pressing so intimately against me.
I turn a fraction and connect my dark eyes with her hazels. “You’re safe, Layla. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
Reaper's bike roars into view around the bend, our brothers tight behind him. Dust kicks up under their tires. He kills the engine as the rest of the crew encircle us.
Reaper locks his attention on Layla with a quick assessment before giving orders. “Beast, you got protection duty.”
Copy that, Prez. And the Vultures? I know I dropped at least six or seven. Layla got at least one.
“They are no longer a threat,” Storm adds with a wicked grin crossing his face.
I nod. “I hear you, brother.”
Layla slides her hand into mine and looks up at me as if she wants to ask something. I give her a nod as if to tell her she’s safe among these men. She clutches at the opening of my cut and steps around me.
“And Veles? What about him? The Vultures are nothing more than puppets here, really.”
“He was nowhere to be found.”
Fear flashes through her eyes at Ash’s words.
Her gaze finds mine. “First things first. Your safety, and then we worry about the rest.”
“Agreed,” Reaper offers. “Get her to the safe house in the city while we go on the hunt. We will be in contact.”
No need to tell me twice. I grab Layla's hand—soft despite the calluses of captivity, her fingers curling instinctively into mine—and haul her toward my Harley hidden in the willow shadows.
She stumbles once, bare feet raw from running. I scoop her up without breaking stride, her delicate weight nothing against my frame. I settle her on the back of my bike and her body molds to mine as I throw a leg over the seat.
The feel of her thighs bracketing my hips, her breasts pressing soft against my back through the thin fabric of my shirt, ignites the same primal need in me to claim the woman I barely know.
Her arms wrap around my waist, tight and trusting, her cheek pressing to my shoulder blade, and I relish the feel of her. The heat of her skin seeping through, the rapid flutter of her breath against my neck, the way she clings like I'm her lifeline.
It hardens me instantly, a rush of possession flooding my veins, because after all this time, she’s finally here, wrapped around me where she belongs.
The engine thunders to life beneath us, a beast of its own roaring defiance as I rev it hard. Reaper nods once, fierce approval in his eyes, before peeling off to cover our retreat. My brothers cover our six just in case we missed a Vulture or two.
I fish a spare Glock from my shoulder holster, the cool metal familiar in my grip, and press it backward into her free palm. Her fingers brush mine in a spark that shoots straight to my core.
“Anyone tries to take you, baby, aim for the fucking heart. You feel me?” I growl over the rumble, twisting to catch her gaze. Her hazel eyes grow wide for a second and then she nods.
Her lips part on a shaky breath, her grip tightening around me as if sealing the vow.
I feel her tuck her papers between us and scoot tightly in behind me.
Bullets whine past, one shattering bark from a nearby tree in a spray of splinters that pepper my arm, but I gun the throttle, the Harley surging forward like a bullet from the chamber.
I guess we missed a Vulture after all.
We tear down the dirt road. A few pieces of gravel ping off the undercarriage, the wind whipping her hair against my neck in silken lashes.
The mansion shrinks in the side mirror, engulfed in flames that paint the sky bloody orange. Small sheds collapse in showers of sparks that light up the encroaching dusk.
Her arms squeeze tighter around my ribs, her body flush to mine, every curve imprinting on me through the leather and thin cloth separating us. My pulse thunders in time with the engine, not from the chase but from her and the delicate strength of her hold.
