He has dark, close-cropped hair, stubble, and those honey-colored eyes that shouldn’t send tingling waves crashing through my body. The manwinksat me, freaking winks! It’s not even fair how his dimples pop out when he smirks. God, he’s lethal in his looks alone. I’m sure he’s lethal in other ways, too.
I manage to stumble through the door with my ill-gotten gains, hoping to put some distance between myself and my stalker. I make it nearly to the other side of the parking lot before the gas station door swings open, revealing my stalker in all of his six-foot-something glory.
He looks like a fucking Adonis with the bright sun silhouetting his broad, muscular frame. Tattoos crawl down his right arm, which he lifts to run his fingers through his short hair. The movement makes his arm flex, drawing my attention there. I’m trying really freaking hard not to imagine those strong arms wrapped around me and shielding me from every nightmare I’ve ever had.
The man looks around the parking lot, his gaze stopping right on me. He’s a few dozen feet away, but I swear I can feel the heat radiating off of him as if he’s standing right next to me.
I take a few steps backward, caught between my curiosity about him and my need to get the hell away from everything and everyone. The man holds his hands out, palms up in surrender.I furrow my brow, allowing him to take a few tentative steps toward me.
“You don’t have to run,” he tells me. His voice is deep and smooth, washing over me and wrapping around my spine. He’s barely said five words, and already I’m under his spell. “You can trust me.”
That snaps me out of my dreamy, lustful haze. I laugh bitterly and hike my duffel bag higher up on my shoulder, ready to run. “Trust the man who has been following me for days now? Why would I do that?”
“I promise you, all I want is your safety. Me and my brothers at Wicked Riders are trying to dismantle the auction and break up the Sons of Destruction. I think you probably have similar goals?”
I tighten my grip around the shoulder strap of my bag, my sweaty hand cramping up from the tension. I want to believe him. Fuck, it would feel so good to go to bed without looking over my shoulder. I almost forgot what normal life was like before I made the massive mistake of tracking down my father.
Those comforting brown eyes plead with me to trust him, give in, and let him shoulder the burden of existence with me, even if it’s just for the night. I squeeze my eyes shut, breaking our connection and bringing myself back down to earth.
“The last biker I trusted to protect me ended up selling me to the highest bidder, so you’ll excuse me for not trusting a word of your shit.” I finish my declaration by staring daggers at him, trying to get him to back down.
Instead of anger or annoyance, like I was expecting, the mysterious Greek god of a man softens toward me. He nods in understanding, though he looks wounded. In fact, he rubs the heel of his hand over his chest, as if my words physically hurt him. In this moment, he doesn’t look like a mighty beast, he looks like a puppy that just wants to cuddle.
I don’t know how to handle the conflicting emotions rising up in my chest, but I don’t want this man to see me fall apart. I spin on my heel and sprint down the alleyway behind the gas station, once again, having no plan in place. I just needed to get out of there before I did something stupid like surrender to his care and blindly pledge my allegiance to another MC.
As I near the end of the alley, I hear a few cars passing by on the main drag through town. I only made it a few towns over before my cash ran out, but at least it’s better than trying to ditch my dad while living in the same small town.
A familiar laugh pierces my thoughts and syphons the air from my lungs. It’s cruel and loud, and filled with venom. I come to an abrupt halt right before stepping onto the sidewalk, peering out slightly so I can get a better view of whoever is laughing.It can’t possibly be my dad, right?
When the cackling laughter tears through the air once more, I know it has to be him. I catch a glimpse of his big round belly and the scraggly brown hair barely covering the bald spot on the back of his head.
Fuck. Fuck! Now what? Where do I go? And with what money?
An arm snakes around my waist and pulls me backward, pressing me against the side of the brick building. I’m about to scream when a hand covers my mouth.Sandalwood and spice.It’s my biker.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” he whispers. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
I nod, observing the sincerity in his light brown eyes. His brow is furrowed in concern, and the corners of his lips deflate into a frown. He removes his hand from my mouth, then strokes my cheek in the most tender touch. I can’t help but to lean into it, soaking up his affection like an attention-seeking cat.
“It’s… It’s my dad,” I choke out, swallowing past the lump in my throat.
“I know. And three of his filthy fucking goons.” The anger behind his voice settles something deep in my chest. This man clearly has no respect for my dad or any of the Sons of Destruction members, which gives him at least a dozen points in my book.
“I… how…?” I’m not even sure what I’m asking, but my biker simply gives me a small, understanding smile.
“You’ve been through a lot these last few days,” he states as if he knows. I suppose he does, since he’s been following me around from that very first night when I escaped the auction. “I know you have no reason to trust me, Athena, but–”
“How do you know my name?” My heart lodges itself in my throat and I tense beneath his gentle touch.
To his credit, the man backs away slightly, sensing my discomfort. The small gesture speaks volumes, and chips away at my heartened heart ever so much.
“How did you think I tracked you down?” he asks, a teasing lilt to his voice.
“Stalking me,” I reply with a tiny smirk of my own.
“Perhaps a little, but I did my research, too. Athena Todt, from West Virginia.”
“I’m not from anywhere anymore,” I mutter.
