Hawk reached back briefly and grabbed my hand, pulling it tighter around his middle. “Hold on.”
The words were low but firm.
Then the motorcycle surged forward into the dark night.
Seven
Emma
Hawk’s voice was low and rough, edged with a sharpness that made the tiny hairs along the back of my neck rise. The question cut through the quiet road like a blade, and for a second, I just stood there, staring at him, my brain scrambling to catch up with everything that had happened in the last twenty minutes.
I opened my mouth to answer, but before any words could escape, another sound rolled through the night. At first, it was faint—a low vibration that seemed to travel through the pavement beneath my feet. Then it grew louder.
Motorcycles.
My entire body went rigid as the rumble echoed across the empty road. The sound was distant but coming closer quickly, and the moment my brain recognized what it was, panic surged through my chest all over again.
My eyes darted down the dark stretch of road behind Hawk and the other bikers. Headlights appeared in the distance. Just a glow at first, then brighter.
The bike—or bikes—were coming toward us.
My stomach dropped. What if it was the man from the bar?
The image of his drunken face flashed through my mind again—the way he’d pinned me against the wall, the way he’d laughed when I told him to stop.
My heart started pounding harder as fear crept up my spine.
I stood frozen for half a second while my brain raced through the possibilities. If it was him, I was completely exposed standing out here in the open.
The rumble of the approaching motorcycle grew louder.
I stiffened but didn’t move.
The men around Hawk noticed immediately.
Before I could react, Hawk’s hand closed firmly around my upper arm and pulled me a step closer to him. The movement was quick, instinctive. At the same time, his body shifted in front of mine, shoulders squaring and stance widening as he placed himself directly between me and the road.
The adjustment was subtle, but suddenly I was almost completely hidden behind him, like he was shielding me.
The rumble of the approaching motorcycle grew louder.
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.
