Page 5

She’s shaking, but she’s steady, voice not even quivering. On the monitor, the thief does a sloppy handoff of the purse to one of her friends, then the whole flock heads toward the fire exit.

I tap the radio on Ty’s desk. “Three females, one with a black purse. Heading out the north fire door now. Stop them.”

Ty repeats it into his headset, adding that they have a stolen black purse. Within a minute, two of the security guys have the girls boxed in by the dumpsters. One tries to run, but she’s too slow and too drunk. As we watch, one of the security guys grabs my girl’s purse and holds it up.

Ty tells the guard to bring it up to the office, and a few minutes later, he strides into the office with the purse clutched in his meaty paw. “Here you go.” He grins, handing over the purse.

I take the purse from him and hand it to my girl. Damn. The look on her face nearly knocks the wind out of me. She breathes, “Thank you,” and reaches for the purse. I watch as she digs through it.

“Anything missing?” Christ, I want to drag her onto my lap and make her relax, but I settle for folding my arms and staring her down. She’s so goddamn pretty when she’s pissed.

She checks the wallet, the phone, all her shit, then finally looks up at me, blinking. “No. It’s all here.”

I lean closer. “Now that I’ve saved your ass, think you can tell me your name?”

She squares her shoulders, narrowing her eyes, defiant as hell. “Eden.”

Fuck me. Even her name is perfect.

I glance at Eden. She’s staring at me with an expression I can’t quite read—part gratitude, part challenge, part something raw and electric that sends sparks shooting down my spine.

I lean in, low enough that only she can hear me over the sound system. “You want a ride home?”

She looks at me like I just offered to sell her a bridge in the desert. “I should say no, but right now, I just want to get home and forget all about his night. If you plan to kill me, please make it quick and painless.”

I laugh, and she glares at me like I just offered to cut off her arm instead of giving her a ride. “You’re safe with me, Eden,” I tell her, voice dropping. “I said I’d protect you, and I meant it.”

She tosses her hair and mutters, “Great. That’s exactly what a serial killer would say. Do you promise not to murder me and dump my body in a construction site?”

It takes everything in me not to scoop her up against me. “Cross my heart.” I make the motion and all. I fucking love the way she fights. I want to see her fight me under the covers, those sharp nails digging into my back. Jesus, I need to get my shit together.

“I don’t think my dress will survive riding on a bike,” she throws out, biting her bottom lip.

“It’s a good thing I drove my truck tonight.”

“Damn,” she mumbles under her breath. “There goes my last chance of escaping.” She glances up and stares me down. “Just so you know, all I’m agreeing to is a ride. If you’re expecting me to hop in bed with you, you have another thing coming. I’m not some club bunny looking to score with a biker. ”

Her words surprise the fuck out of me. Fuck. This entire situation is shocking. “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” I tell her. “I’ll take care of you.”

Ty laughs as I take Eden’s hand and lead her out the security door.

I guide her out through the side entrance, the one I use when I don’t want anyone knowing my business. The night air hits us, humid and gritty, and her shoulders finally drop a little like she’s letting out a breath she’s been holding all night.

My truck is a monster. F-250, crew cab, gleaming black with custom rims and a steel headache rack. Some people say it’s overcompensation. I say it’s necessary.

I open her door and help her up. She hesitates only a second, then hauls herself into the passenger seat with a muttered thank you.

I fire up the engine, and it settles into a low, comforting rumble.

“What’s your address, sweetheart?” I ask.

She rattles it off. It’s halfway across the city, in a part of town that’s all cracked pavement and flickering streetlights. I hit the main drag and keep my eyes on the road, but I can feel her watching me. Testing. Prodding.

“So, what’s your deal, Bones?” she says, voice tight with curiosity. “You work at the casino?”

“Nope. I just hang out there.” It’s mostly the truth. My MC club owns Elysium, and we all hang out there, but I do my own shit. “I own The Boneyard Garage.”

“Appropriate.” She glances over at me and smiles.