I lean back against the wall, arms crossed, pretending her reticence to stay doesn’t land like a punch. “Why not?”
She turns to face me, eyes sharp but tired. “Because I’m not here as someone’s girlfriend or someone who needs protection. I’m here for work.”
That earns her my full attention.
“I’m a minor designer,” she continues. “Not a headliner. That means smaller shows. Pop-up venues. Temporary spaces. I have meetings with organizers every day this week to go over placement, lighting, models—things that change at the last minute.”
I nod slowly. That tracks. Fashion Week isn’t all champagne and front rows. It’s chaos held together with tape and caffeine.
“I also have interviews,” she adds. “Three fashion houses have asked to meet with me. Not to feature my work, but about hiring me. Full-time. Design teams. Assistant roles, at first, but still… it matters.”
Her voice tightens just a fraction on that last word.
“They’re not going to come to a biker clubhouse,” she says. “And I can’t show up late, or flustered, or escorted by a man who looks like he might kill someone for breathing wrong.”
I huff a quiet laugh despite myself. “For the record, I only kill on provocation.”
She smiles briefly, then sobers. “I need to be close to the venues. The hotel puts me within walking distance of most ofthem. If I stay with you, everything becomes harder. I can’t lose focus on why I’m here.”
I push off the wall and step closer. “And safety?”
She meets my gaze without flinching. “I’m not reckless. I’ll have security when I need it. I’ll check in. I just… can’t disappear into your world right now.”
There it is—the line in the concrete.
I don’t argue. Don’t try to scare her into staying. That’s not who she is—and it’s not who I want to be.
“Okay,” I say after a moment. “You do what you need to do.”
Relief flickers across her face, followed by something warmer. Gratitude.
“I still think you need protection. Let me talk to Chrome, and we’ll figure out a way to keep you safe without getting in your way.”
“Why?” Zara asks. “They're here for you, right? They wouldn’t be interested in me.”
I frown at her assumption. “We don’t know what they want yet,” I say. “They went to your hotel looking for you. For all we know, they don’t know I’m here. I hid my tracks. I doubt they know I moved to Chicago and joined the Demon Dawgs. Hell, Chicago wasn’t my first stop. It was just my last stop.”
Zara frowns. “Why would they be looking for me?” she asks.
I shrug. “Who knows? They’re still wearing their Adelaide kuttes. Didn’t you know they were still in Adelaide? Although I don’t know why they’d follow you here if they could find you just as easily back home.”
Zara stares at me. “I don’t live in Adelaide. Dad moved us to New Zealand soon after the incident. He thought we would be safer there. He sold the shop and opened a new one in Arrowtown.”
“Wait, so you’re saying you and your father moved to New Zealand? Does your dad keep in contact with anyone from Adelaide?”
Zara shakes her head. “No, he cut all ties. He didn’t want anyone to know where we went. I think he was afraid the club would come for him if they got out of jail.”
“Don’t you think that might be what is happening now? That they figured out you were coming here and followed you? Although if they knew you were in New Zealand, why didn’t they try for you there?”
“It might be because of the club my dad belongs to in Arrowtown.”
“Your dad belongs to a motorcycle club?”
“Yeah. He joined them after we moved. He had a friend who was a member. They’re the Arrowtown Outriders.”
I stare at her for a minute as I consider the implications. Back then, I protected her father because he seemed to be over his head. I figured he didn’t understand how dangerous bikers could be. Seems like I was wrong.
CHAPTER 6: ZARA
