"—my welcome, so I'll just?—"
"London, don’t leave.” He's on his feet in a split-second, and his hand grasps my arm—not rough, but firm enough to stop me. “I mean…” His hand drops from my arm and he runs it through his thick, wavy hair. "Where are you gonna go?"
I don't have an answer, so I just shrug.
“Your dad was a brother in this club. That makes you connected to us." He doesn't step back. He's close enough that I have to crane my neck to see his face.
I’m not sure what he’s saying exactly, and I grip the duffel strap harder. “Does that mean I belong here?"
He doesn’t answer my question directly.
“Look," he says, his voice losing its edge. "You came here to find your father. Then you learn he’s…gone. Maybe stay while you process, grieve, figure out your next move, whatever.” He takes a step back, giving me room, and shoves his hands in his pockets. "You don't need to leave is all I’m saying.”
My grip on the duffel loosens as I stare at him, considering the offer.
“Or, how ‘bout this—decide later. Tomorrow, even. Today, let me take you somewhere. Get your mind off of things for a while.”
My father is dead, and my plan to escape my stepfather’s reach is dead along with him. I should be panicking. I should be calculating my next survival move, figuring out how to stay ahead of Greg.
Instead, I'm considering spending the day with this dangerous but sexy biker.
"Where do you want to take me?” I ask.
The corner of his mouth lifts. Not a smile. But close. "You'll see."
Chapter 6
Zeus
The parking lot is already buzzing when I lead London outside. Brothers are loading coolers into truck beds, strapping down chairs, firing up bikes. Everyone is getting ready to head out to our picnic spot on the shore of Lake Erie for a day of burgers, beer, and bullshit.
London squints against the morning sun, scanning the goings-on with watchful eyes.
I make a head gesture toward my bike and head that way. She follows, keeping pace despite her shorter legs.
I grab my spare helmet from the saddlebag and hold it out to her. "Here."
London looks at it, then at my bike, then back at me. "I'm riding with you?"
"That a problem?"
"No, I just—I've never been on a motorcycle before."
"Nothing to it. Get on, hold onto me, lean when I lean. Don't fight the bike."
She takes the helmet.
"Zeus, bro,” Mayhem calls across the lot. His brows are damn near touching his hairline as his gaze moves from London to me. "You riding with us today?"
"What's it look like?"
His grin is too wide. "Looks like a goddamn miracle."
"Fuck off."
Laughter ripples through the brothers in earshot. But that reaction pales in comparison to the looks I get when I mount my Harley and London climbs on behind me.
"You need to hold on tighter,” I tell her.
