I sputtered, blindsided at his abrupt change.
“What? What’s going on?”
Tarzan clenched his jaw, resting his hand protectively on my lower back.
“It’s my brother. He’s been shot.”
My mind reeled with that information. Of all the explanations Tarzan could have provided, that was nowhere near anything I had expected to hear.
“Wh-what? Is he okay?”
Tarzan said nothing as he ushered me to his truck. Taking me by the waist, he hoisted me into the passenger seat as if I was light as a feather. His gaze was distant, unfocused, too preoccupied with worry over his brother.
“Tarzan,” I said firmly.
He paused with his hand on the door, dragging his gaze up to my face.
“Your brother,” I repeated. “Is he okay?”
Tarzan shook his head. “I don’t know.”
My heart lurched with sympathy at the tortured note in his voice. I felt helpless, fumbling to figure out a way to ease his worry.
Tarzan remained grim and silent as he drove, pushing the speed limit. To my surprise, we flew by the hospital and parked outside a biker bar instead. A glowing neon sign in the window read,Reckless Order MC.
“What are we doing here?” I asked, confused.
“I’ll explain everything soon, I promise,” Tarzan replied. “But for now, we need to get inside. I can’t leave you out here alone.”
Bewildered, I let Tarzan thread his fingers with mind, leading me through the front door of the bar. This was not how I thought our first date would go tonight.
Bikers milled around the room, clustered in groups talking. A restless energy lingered in the air.
An older man approached, with salt-and-pepper hair. The patch on his jacket read, Vice President.
“Ironside,” Tarzan said with a nod of greeting. “Thank you for calling and looking after my brother. Where is he?”
“In the back,” Ironside said, gesturing down a nearby corridor. “Seven is taking care of him. He’s in good hands. Seven has the prettiest stitches I’ve ever seen.”
“And what about the bastard who shot Teddy?” Tarzan replied. “Do you have him?”
Ironside flicked his gaze past Tarzan’s shoulder and settled on me. His silence suggested he didn’t seem inclined to answer that question in my presence.
And suddenly, I felt unwelcome, sticking out like a sore thumb in my pink skirt and heels, while everyone else had jeans, black leather, and tattoos.
Then a voice emanated from the corridor.
“I saidI’m fine.God, stop fussing over me like a fucking mother hen, for Christ’s sake. You’re just as bad as my big brother.”
A man stumbled into view a moment later, and there was no denying that this must be Teddy. He had the same dark blue eyes as Tarzan, the same wavy blond hair even though he kept it trimmed short. His shirt was rucked up over his hip, revealing a taped bandage against his side.
Teddy ground to a stop at the sight of Tarzan.
“Speak of the devil.”
“What the hell are you doing on your feet, you idiot?” Tarzan growled.
Teddy rolled his eyes.
