"Get your hands off her."
Hayes's grip loosens slightly, and we both turn. A man stands at the end of the alley, backlit by the morning sun. I can't make out his features at first, just his silhouette: tall, lean build, dark hair. As he steps forward, more details emerge: blue eyes currently fixed on Hayes, bruised knuckles hanging loose at his sides, a leather vest with patches.
A biker. Probably one of the Savage Riders Hayes was just warning me about.
Chapter 2 - Rookie
The cop's hands are on her, and all I can see is red.
I wasn't looking for trouble this morning. Just taking a ride to clear my head after last night's celebration at the clubhouse. All my brothers paired off now, happy, the war with the Iron Eagles finally fucking over. We can rest. We earned it.
But then I saw the patrol car pull into this alley, saw them get out, saw him grab her, and every instinct I've spent months honing with the Savage Riders kicked into overdrive.
"Get your hands off her," I repeat, moving closer.
My boots echo off the warehouse walls. I want this asshole to hear me coming. The male cop, mid-forties, soft around the middle, the kind who uses his badge to compensate for being a worthless piece of shit doesn't let go immediately. He's assessing me, trying to decide if I'm a threat.
I crack my knuckles, letting him hear each pop. The bruises from proving myself during the Iron Eagles war have mostly faded, but I've kept them fresh with training.
"This is police business," the cop says, his voice all authority and bullshit. "Move along before I arrest you for interfering."
I laugh, cold and sharp. "Fuck the police." The words taste good in my mouth, righteous and true. "I said get your fucking hands off her."
The female cop, and shit, she's exactly my type, all curves and softness wrapped in that uniform, black hair falling around her face, bright green eyes wide with fear tries to pull free again. This time the asshole lets her go, his attention fully on me now.
My cock twitches in my jeans just from looking at her, and I fucking hate it. Hate that my body's responding to a goddamncop. Hate that those curves are making me hard when I should be focused on the situation. Hate that I want to know what she feels like under that uniform.
"Do you know who I am?" He steps toward me, puffing out his chest. "Officer David Hayes, twenty years on the force. I can make your life very difficult."
"Don't give a shit if you're the fucking chief." I close the distance between us until we're toe to toe. I'm younger, leaner, and I want to hurt him so badly my fingers itch with it. "You put your hands on her without permission. That makes you a predator, and your badge doesn't mean fuck-all to me."
His face flushes red. "You little punk—"
He reaches for his belt, probably for his cuffs or his baton, and that's all the excuse I need. My fist connects with his jaw before he can complete the motion. The impact jolts up my arm, and he staggers back, hand flying to his face.
"You assaulted a police officer!" he sputters, blood on his lip.
"Prove it." I advance on him, rolling my shoulders. "Your word against mine. And you're the one who dragged your partner into an alley and put your hands on her. So, who's really the criminal here?"
He looks at the female cop, then back at me, calculating. He's realizing his position isn't as strong as he thought. If he arrests me, she might talk. Might file a complaint. Might expose what he was trying to do.
"This isn't over," he spits, backing toward the patrol car. He points at her without looking. "Collins, you're walking back to the station. Consider yourself on administrative duty until further notice."
He gets in the car and peels out, leaving her and me standing in the alley. Leaving her stranded.
I turn to face her fully for the first time, and fuck me, she's gorgeous. The uniform doesn't hide anything. It just emphasizes every curve. Her black hair is slightly messed up from the struggle, her green eyes are bright with unshed tears and fury, and my cock is already straining against my jeans, throbbing.
I hate it. Hate that I'm getting hard for a fucking cop.
"You okay?" I ask, keeping my distance and my voice gruff. I just punched her partner. And I'm fighting the urge to adjust myself.
"I—" She swallows hard, her hand going to her arm where he grabbed her. "Yes. Thank you. You didn't have to do that."
"Yeah, I did." I shove my hands in my pockets, partly to keep from reaching for her, partly to hide the bulge forming in my jeans. "Guy was assaulting you. Doesn't matter that he's a cop."
She flinches at the word. "He's my partner. Was my partner."
"He's a piece of shit who uses his badge to prey on women."
