Page 5 of Wild & Wanted

Phoenix’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. "So, there is a woman, then? Just not your woman?"

I groan, rubbing the back of my neck, while Onyx snorts a laugh.

"Fuck you, all of you," I grunt, turning on my heel and walking out.

Laughter follows me right out the heavy clubhouse door, but I drown it out with the deafening roar of my bike engine. Call me what you want. I don't care. There is no chance Hadley is walking alone at night anymore. She might not be mine—she can't be, she's an employee, a sweet young woman caught in my orbit—but she deserves to feel safe. And sure, playing chauffeur might be way above and beyond my job description, but... but nothing. I'm out of excuses for why my chest tightens every time I think about her.

I know I can't have feelings for her. I don't trust anyone outside of my brothers. After watching a hundred relationships explode in my father's face, I swore off love and domestic life decades ago. I refuse to turn into a bitter, broken old fool who is angry at the world and everyone in it.

I tear down the wet pavement on my bike, pulling up outside the Royal Motel a few minutes later. As I scan the dozen or so run-down doors, a dark, protective wave of pure possessiveness rolls over me, so heavy it physically hurts. Which room is she in?

This place is dangerously exposed. The exterior looks like it’s made of balsa wood, and the single-pane windows would shatter if a stiff breeze looked at them wrong. I wonder if any of the locks work on the room doors.

The more I study the drab, unclean, unsafe environment, the more my blood boils. Hadley does not belong here. I picture her bright smile, her soft voice, the way she effortlessly dismantled my bad mood yesterday. I’ve only spent a handful of hours with her, yet my brain has been hijacked by thoughts of her red hair, creamy skin, and the curves that draw me in like a beacon.

As if my thoughts conjured her out of thin air, the door at the very end of the breezeway opens, and Hadley steps out.

My chest seizes. The end room. She’s doubly unprotected, hanging out at the dead end of the building where nobody in the office would ever hear her if she screamed.

My protective streak snaps my control in half. Before I can even process the movement, I cut the engine, stride across the pavement, and practically snarl her name.

"Hadley!"

She jumps, letting out a startled shriek and spinning around. But I’m already on a roll, my temper flaring hot and fast.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I bark, closing the distance between us. "You left yesterday without telling me. You walked home alone in the dark. You picked the worst, most dangerous hole-in-the-wall in this damn town to sleep in⁠—"

The rest of my rant dies in my throat when I look down and see her face. Her brown eyes are flashing with a volatile mix of fury, confusion, and deep-seated shame.

"I've been taking care of myself and my family for a very long time before you came into my life," Hadley fires back, her voice shaking slightly. She stands her ground, crossing her arms. "I assessed the risks versus rewards of staying at the Royal Motel, and right now, saving every penny I earn is the goal. So excuse me for trying to survive!"

I stand there, taking a second too long to absorb the punch of her words.

She doesn't wait for me to recover. She steps right up to me, plants a soft hand firmly on her hip, and points a trembling finger straight at my chest.

I stare down at her in disbelief. This five-foot-four, twenty-something, curvy redhead with adorable freckles scattered across her nose is scolding me. Again. That’s twice in two days she has dressed me down without blinking.

Instead of pissing me off, it hooks into my chest with a vicious, intoxicating pull. She isn't just a sweet, shy angel; she has the heart of a warrior and the grit of a survivor. Hadley has hidden layers, and for the first time in my life, I don't just want to know someone… I need to. Every second I spend looking at her, that need digs deeper into my bones.

"You don't know me," she continues, her voice rising, thick with defensive pride. "You don't know my life, you have no right to tell me where to live, and I don't need your help! I've spent my entire life protecting everyone else, so I am perfectly fine taking care of myself!"

By the time she finishes, she’s trembling from head to toe, her breaths coming in shallow, ragged gasps.

The anger bleeds out of me, replaced by a hollow ache in my chest. I move slowly, keeping my eyes locked on hers so I don't startle her. When I reach out, I take the hand she was just using to scold me, gently wrapping my large fingers around her small, soft hand.

She looks up at me, all the fight draining out of her, leaving behind raw, naked vulnerability. Hadley is blinking furiously, trying desperately to hold her tears back.

I lean down, giving her all the space she needs to pull away if she wants to. She doesn't.

I tug her just a fraction closer, until my lips brush against the sensitive shell of her ear. My voice drops to a rough, low gravel.

"Who has been protecting you though?"

Her breath hitches, sharp and audible. Before she can find her voice to answer, I turn toward my bike, keeping a firm, gentle hold on her hand, leading her with me.

"Get on," I instruct, throwing my leg over the saddle.

She hesitates, starting to protest. "Wolf, I can⁠—"