Page 158 of Reckless

Move.

The bike leans hard into the next corner before settling beneath me again. My eyes work the street automatically, moving from parked cars to shopfronts, lingering just long enough on anyone standing still or watching too closely. Most of it fades as quickly as it arrives.

Nothing.

Another block disappears beneath the tires.

Then, I see her.

Relief hits first, sharp enough that it almost catches me off guard. Piper walks toward the next intersection cool, calm, and collected. Coffee cup balanced in one hand, a bag of something, and her phone in the other, her pace steady, her shoulders relaxed enough that anyone watching would assume she hasn’t noticed a thing.

I know better.

Thirty feet behind her, a dark sedan idles against the curb.

Windows tinted.

Engine running.

Two silhouettes in the front seats.

Waiting…

My bike rolls up alongside Piper, slowing until I’m matching her pace. She glances over, catches sight of me beneath the visor, and without missing a step, her eyes sharpen.

I flip the visor up as I slide off the bike. “Get on.”

She lets out a shaky breath, the first sign of her being nervous, and she nods, her eyes beginning to well as she reaches out for me in an embrace.

“You’re okay,” I tell her, and she nods again, watching me instead of the car.

‘Stay here, I’ll be right back,’ I sign to her.

Her eyes widen, and she shakes her head. “No,” she says in her muted tone.

I weakly smile at her. ‘Stay here,’ I sign again, letting go of her and turning toward the fucking car.

I leave the bike idling behind me and walk toward the sedan.

Every step feels measured.

Not because I’m calm, but because if I let myself move as fast as I want to, one of these assholes is leaving in an ambulance, and that idea is not good.

The driver’s window is cracked open just enough to remind me they’re hiding behind glass.

It won’t help.

I stop beside the door and look at both of them without saying a word.

Five seconds, six, long enough for the driver to stop pretending his pulse isn’t climbing. Long enough for the passenger to realize I saw him reach for the gun under his seat.

“Here’s how this works,” I say quietly. “You leave.” Neither of them moves. “Or I teach you why following her was your last bad decision. We know who sent you,” I state. “We know who you work for. And the next time either of you comes anywhere near her, or her sister, or my club, it won’t matter if we’re on a crowded street… I won’t hold back, and you’ll see the reason I wear this 1% badge.”

Neither of them says a word. The driver’s jaw tightens, and then the car pulls away from the curb and disappears around the corner, unhurried, like they had somewhere else to be all along.

Piper is watching me when I turn back around. She didn’t get on the fucking bike.

Stubborn, just like her sister!