My pulse hammered in my ears.
The motorcycle slowed as it approached our group.
Gravel crunched under the tires as the rider rolled closer. Then the bike stopped a short distance away.
“You boys good?”
The man’s voice carried easily through the quiet night air.
I held my breath.
One of Hawk’s men answered casually, “Yeah. All good.”
The other biker didn’t move right away. His engine idled, the low vibration filling the space between us. For a moment, I wondered if he’d ride closer. If he’d notice me standing behind Hawk. But Hawk didn’t shift. Didn’t turn. Didn’t give anything away. He simply stood there like a solid wall between me and the road.
Finally, the biker spoke again. “Alright then.”
The engine revved. A second later, the motorcycle rolled away down the road, the sound fading slowly into the distance until the night went quiet again.
My shoulders sagged slightly as some of the tension drained from my body. That voice hadn’t sounded anything like the man from the bar. Not even close.
I stayed where I was for another second, breathing slowly while the adrenaline still rushed through my veins.
Then suddenly Hawk turned. Before I could react, one large hand came up and settled against the back of my head. His palm pressed into my hair, guiding my face toward his chest.
“Don’t look,” he murmured quietly.
The words weren’t harsh, but there was something firm in them—commanding. His hand stayed there, keeping my head turned away from the road like he didn’t want me seeing whatever might be happening behind us.
I didn’t fight it. My eyes slipped closed as my forehead rested lightly against the solid wall of his chest. My good hand fisted instinctively into the front of his cut, gripping the thick leather like it was the only steady thing left in the world.
Hawk didn’t comment on it, but his hand tightened slightly at the back of my head. The contact grounded me instantly.
Hawk was huge. His body was broad and hard beneath the leather of his cut, heat radiating through the fabric and into my skin. Even through the layers of clothing, I could feel how solid he was—strong, unmovable, like leaning against a wall made of stone.
But what surprised me the most was the way he smelled—leather, smoke, something warm and masculine underneath it all. The scent wrapped around me in a strange kind of comfort that made my shoulders slowly relax.
I breathed in slowly. Then again, trying to steady the frantic rhythm of my heart.
Against my cheek, I felt the faint rumble of his chest when he spoke. “Ghost.”
“Yeah, boss.”
“Get on it.”
Ghost didn’t hesitate. “Got it.”
I had absolutely no idea what that meant, but something in Hawk’s tone made it clear whatever he was asking for was already in motion.
Then Hawk spoke again. “Riot. Knox. Ranger.”
“Yeah?” one of them answered.
“Head back. Check the bar. Round up.”
“You want updates?” another voice asked.
“Call me if anything looks off.”
