Page 1 of My Older Biker

Chapter 1 — Dean

Roan's call comes at eight on a Friday night when I'm halfway through a beer and thinking about nothing that matters.

I see his name. Answer before the second ring.

"Marrow." His voice is flat. "Cain tracked two prospects three blocks from Zoe's apartment. I'm heading to the clubhouse. I need you to get her and take her somewhere safe."

I'm already standing. Already reaching for my keys. "Where am I taking her?"

"Your place. You're closest. I already called her. She knows you're coming."

He hangs up before I can ask anything else. That's Roan. Efficient when it matters.

I grab my cut from the back of the chair and I'm out the door.

The ride takes twelve minutes, and the whole time I'm running scenarios. Marrow's been quiet since we burned their warehouse two weeks ago. Quiet means planning. Cain tracking them near residential means they're scouting civilian targets. Means they're done playing by rules that kept the violence outside of town.

Zoe's apartment is on Oak Street. Second floor of a converted house with a wooden staircase on the exterior. I see lights in her window, park the bike and take the stairs fast.

She opens the door before I knock.

"Let me guess," she says. "Dad sent you."

I haven't seen her this close in a year. Not since I started making sure I wasn't in rooms she walked into. She's wearing sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt with a faded logo I don't recognize. Her dark hair is down past her shoulders. No bra. I can see the outline of her nipples through the thin fabric.

I force my eyes up to her face.

"Marrow was spotted near here," I say. "Roan wants you somewhere safer until we know what they're planning."

"I'm twenty years old." Her jaw is tight. "I moved out of his house a year ago specifically so I could have some independence. So, I could focus on finishing my degree without him hovering over every decision I make. And now he's shipping me off to your place like I'm fragile cargo that can't handle myself."

"This isn't hovering. Marrow was three blocks from here two hours ago."

"Were they looking for me specifically or is this just general threat escalation?"

I don't answer. Because I don't know.

"Right." She crosses her arms. "So, Dad's moving me based on something that might be happening. Just like he used to walk me to class when I was nineteen. Just like he made me text him every time I left campus. Moving out was supposed to change that."

"He's keeping you safe."

"He's keeping me controlled. There's a difference."

I don't argue. She's not wrong. "Do you have a bag packed?"

"No."

"Then pack one. Five minutes."

She stares at me, and I stare back. Her eyes are the same brown as Roan's but the way she looks at me is nothing like her father’s. She's angry. Not at the situation. At me.

"Fine," she says finally. Turns and walks back into the apartment. Leaves the door open.

I stay in the doorway. Don't trust myself inside her space. The apartment is small. Living area with a couch, a desk covered in design work, and kitchen visible through an open archway. Bedroom door open enough that I can see the edge of her bed.

She comes back three minutes later with a duffel bag. Black canvas. Slung over her shoulder, and she's pulled her hair into a messy knot at the back of her head. Barefoot and beautiful.

"How long am I staying with you?" she says.