"Eagles?" he asks simply.
Steel nods. "Two of them. They knew exactly where I'd be. Targeted hit."
King's expression darkens. "We need to get all of you to the clubhouse. Now."
"The clubhouse?" James's voice rises in panic. "No way. We're not going there."
"You don't have a choice," King says flatly. "Your apartment's shot to hell, and the Eagles will be looking for you both now."
"I didn't sign up for this!" James shouts, his face flushed with fear and alcohol. "This is between you and them!"
"Lower your voice," Steel warns, stepping between my brother and King. "And you signed up the moment you borrowed our money."
I place a hand on James's arm, feeling him trembling beneath my touch. "James, please. They're trying to help us now."
He shakes me off. "Help us? They're the reason we almost died!"
"Your sister's smarter than you," one of the other riders says, a heavily tattooed man with a wild beard. "Now get on my bike before I knock you out and tie you to it."
James looks like he might argue further, but something in the rider's expression makes him think better of it. He sullenly approaches the motorcycles outside, giving the riders a wide berth.
"Holly rides with me," Steel says, guiding me toward an extra bike that someone brought along. King gives him a look I can't interpret but nods once.
I've never been on a motorcycle before. Under different circumstances, I might be terrified, but after being shot at, thisfear seems manageable. Steel shows me where to place my feet, how to hold on.
"Arms around my waist, tight," he instructs. "Lean when I lean. Don't fight the bike."
I wrap my arms around him, feeling the wall of muscles in his abdomen beneath my fingers. He kicks the bike to life, and the vibration travels up through my body. Despite everything—the danger, the uncertainty, the sheer insanity of this night—I'm wet. Fucking dripping.
My mind flashes back to that moment on the fire escape, our bodies pressed together, his breath against my skin. I tighten my grip around his waist, and I swear I feel him tense in response.
As we pull away from the corner store, the wind whipping through my hair, I close my eyes and rest my cheek against Steel's back. In this moment, I'm not thinking about the bullets or the danger or what tomorrow will bring. I'm only aware of his warmth, the machine between my legs, and the strange sense that my life has just veered onto a path I never could have imagined.
For better or worse, I'm under Steel's protection now. And God help me, but some small, reckless part of me doesn't want that protection to end.
Chapter 3 - Steel
Pulling into the clubhouse compound with Holly's arms wrapped around me is both heaven and hell. Heaven because the soft press of her breasts against my back and her thighs gripping my hips feels better than anything has in years. Hell because my cock is so hard it's painful, straining against my jeans in a way that's going to be impossible to hide when I get off this bike.
The gate slides closed behind our convoy, sealing us inside the protective walls of Savage Riders territory. I cut the engine but don't move immediately, taking a moment to regain control of myself.
"We're here," I say over my shoulder, my voice rougher than I intended.
Holly's arms loosen reluctantly around my waist. I feel her shift behind me, the movement sending another jolt of awareness straight to my groin. Fuck. What is it about this woman? I've been around plenty of attractive women in the club, but none have affected me like this, like a teenage boy getting his first handful of tits.
I swing my leg over the bike, turning to help her off, slowly to keep my lower body angled away. Her cheeks are flushed from the ride, eyes bright with adrenaline, hair windblown in a way that makes me want to bury my hands in it. When my hands touch her waist, I feel her breath catch.
"First time on a motorcycle?" I ask, trying for normal conversation while my body screams for contact.
She nods. "It was... intense."
Intense doesn't begin to cover it. Having her pressed against me for the fifteen-minute ride, feeling every curve of her body,remembering how she felt on that fire escape, it was fucking torture of the best kind.
King dismounts from his own bike, casting a knowing glance my way before turning to address the others. "Beast, get our guest settled in room three. Tank, check the perimeter, make sure we weren't followed. Rage, talk to Luna and let her know we need food for two more."
Beast practically drags a still-protesting James toward the clubhouse, while Tank and Rage head off to their respective tasks. That leaves King, me, and Holly standing in the garage area.
"Holly, right?" King says, his voice gentler than it was at the store. "I'm King, president of the Savage Riders MC."
