After a moment, the front desk attendant shrugs and grabs a key hanging on the wall behind her. “Fifty-five dollars,” she states. “And another fifty if you’re still here after ten in the morning.”
“Got it. Thanks,” I say while counting out the cash.
Her eyes follow me out of the small lobby area and into the cool night. When I look over my shoulder, the woman is right back to her magazine and cigarette.
I make it to room number ten at the very end of the building, unlocking the door and flopping down on the bed. The air is stale, the sheets are scratchy, and the single window next to the door has a broken latch, making it bang against the side of the building with even the slightest breeze.
All in all, it’s a huge upgrade from where I could have ended up tonight.
I stay sprawled out on the hard mattress for a little longer, then decide to check the rattling window. Maybe I can rig something up to make the banging stop. I don’t imagine I’ll get much sleep tonight, but I might go crazy if I have to listen to the screech and snap of the window for a single second longer.
Upon further inspection, it appears something was jammed in the corner of the window, making it impossible to close all the way. Once I’ve remedied the situation, I look out into the parking lot. I’m not sure what I thought I’d see. Maybe my father? Or the Madame from the auction house?
Instead, there’s a single car parked on the far side of the lot, partially hidden by overhanging branches. My heart lodges itself in my throat the longer I look at the vehicle. There’s definitely someone inside. Staring at me.
I can barely make out his white t-shirt and leather jacket. And those eyes… light brown, like honey or amber. Warm, grounding. And confusing as hell. I recognize him from the auction, though not as one of the disgusting pigs who attended the event with the intent to purchase a woman.
No, he’s definitely not a slicked-back, clean-cut billionaire with a dirty secret. That man is a biker, through and through. Thankfully, he’s not one of my father’s men, or at least, not one I’ve met before. He’s still a biker though, so he can’t be trusted.
What is he doing out here? Actually, what was he doing at the auction? Something big happened that distracted the guards and the Madame, which gave me an opportunity to escape the padded room they were keeping us in. I was greeted by chaos, gun shots, broken glass, and furious men shouting at each other. It’s definitely not the first time I’ve walked into a situation like that, but I hope it will be my last.
The man in the car doesn’t make a move to get out. He doesn’t have a gun aimed at me as far as I can tell. He’s not taking pictures on his phone or a camera. In fact, he’s not doing much of anything. Just watching.
I should leave, right? Someone found me, and now I need to find a way to sneak out. But how? He’d see me if I walked out the door or climbed through the window. And where would I go even if I managed to evade him?
Slinking back to the bed, I perch on the edge of the mattress and rummage through my bag until my hand wraps around the cool metal of the gun I stole. I’ll keep this right next to me just in case the man outside gets any funny ideas.
Sleep tugs at my eyelids, and I realize just how exhausted I am. My muscles ache, my feet are swollen and likely bleeding from my midnight sprint through the forest, and my temples are throbbing with an oncoming migraine.
I was so positive I wouldn’t fall asleep, especially after discovering my stalker outside. But strangely I feel… safe. He’s watching over me, not spying on me. Or maybe that’s just what I need to believe to get the rest my body so desperately craves.
As my vision blurs and sleep takes over, my final thought is of warm brown eyes.
3
WRAITH
Ijolt awake, immediately squinting my eyes against the harsh sunlight. When I move my head, a sharp pain races down my left shoulder, making me groan. I try stretching my legs, only to realize I’m hunched over in the front seat of my car.The fuck?
The more I wake up, the clearer my memory becomes of last night. The auction. The stomach-knotting, vile acts about to take place, frustration with Shadow… and thenher. My goddess. Visions of her threatening those Sons of Destruction members flash across my mind, and then chasing after her into the night.
I followed her for as long as I could, though I took a few wrong turns that ultimately led to my woman slipping away. Fortunately, I caught a glimpse of someone getting into a car several hundred yards up the road. I took a picture of the vehicle, at first thinking it might have something to do with the people running the auction. Upon further inspection, I realized who it was. More importantly, I got a good shot of the license plate so I could find my pretty little runaway goddess.
After running the license plate through the databases we have access to, Rogue was able to hack into a traffic light cam. The footage caught my woman getting out of the car andchecking into a motel held together by decades of stale cigarette smoke and tobacco spit.
I was sitting outside in one of the club’s cars within a matter of minutes. No way in hell was I going to leave her there by herself. Every single part of me screamed to kick down her door, toss her over my shoulder, and take her back to my house. However, she had been through so much already. She deserved to clean up and get some rest.
Besides, I don’t think I would have gotten very far with her if I showed up to her room in the dead of night and told her she belonged to me now. Considering the night she had and the weapon I assume she’s still carrying, she might have shot me if I approached.
Reluctantly, I decided to watch over her instead of kidnap her. Apparently, I failed in my endeavor by falling asleep at some point. Fuck, I hope she’s still here. She deserves so much better than this shit hole, and soon, I’m going to provide it for her. I’ll give my precious girl a life she doesn’t want to run away from.
My phone dings with a text, immediately followed by a phone call from Rogue.
“Yeah,” I answer, my voice scratchy and filled with exhaustion. I’m sure I sound intoxicated, though I haven’t had a drop of alcohol for a few days.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I mumble again, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
