Page 10 of Dark Biker Protector

"Yeah, me too, buddy," I sighed as I reached for him. As I leaned towards him, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, the scrap of paper Chuck had given me with his number on it – he'd insisted I take it with me after he’d seen the state I was in during our interview, and honestly, I had been ready to toss it the moment I got back. But something had urged me to keep hold of it, like I knew I might need it.

Like it might have been dangerous to get rid of it.

I reached over and picked it up, staring down at it for a long moment. I could just call him up now, tell him that I was freaked...

But he would probably think I was crazy. Well, crazier than he had before, at least. I mean, thinking of all the shit he had to go through in his line of work, he would laugh in my face if I told him I was getting spooked by nightmares...

But, as I tried to lay back down in bed, I could still feel myself trembling. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep tonight – not if I was here alone, anyway. Chewing my lip, I reached for the piece of paper, and stared down at it, tracing out his spidery handwriting with my thumb. He told me if he could help me in any way, he would. Well...maybe this was the way to do it? Maybe this was what he meant?

Before I could talk myself out of it, I grabbed my phone where I had left it to charge overnight and quickly tapped his number into it. Firing off a text, I held my breath – and then, a few seconds later, a response pinged onto my screen.

"You okay?"

I hesitated for a moment before I replied.

"No."

I hated admitting that to anyone, even someone like Chuck, who had offered to help me in the midst of all of this. I felt like he would think less of me when he knew that I was struggling, but how could I pretend it was anything else? I had spent so long trying to duck and dive the hurt that Franco had left me with after he had treated me the way he had, but now, I had someone who was actually willing to help. Why shouldn’t I take him up on it?

"You want me to come 'round?”

I chewed on my lip. God, was this a good idea? There was something about the thought of having him in my house that spooked me a little, but not in an entirely bad way. I mean, he would scare off anyone who was hanging about, wouldn’t he? I knew the reputation that he had, and I doubted it would be lost on anyone else who was watching my place. I just had to hope that they took him seriously...

I fired back in the affirmative and sent him my address, surprised at how little the thought of him having it bothered me. Normally, I was super-protective about my personal details, but after he’d shared some of his past with me, I felt like I owed him a little of the same in return.

He had a sister, that’s what he’d told me, and it was clear from the way his voice had softened when he had mentioned her that she meant a lot to him. What did she make of this line of work he’d gotten into? Did she like it? Did it scare her? Did she wish he did something different with his life, or was she okay with it? I couldn’t help but wonder...

I threw on some clothes and brewed myself a coffee, my hands still shaky as I poured myself a cup. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, not after the bad dream I’d just had, and I figured this was the best way to wake myself up for Chuck getting here.

I nearly jumped out of my skin when I heard the door buzz, and I headed over to the window to peer outside – there he was, Chuck, in that battered leather jacket I always saw him wearing.He tilted his head back to look up at me, as though he knew I would be gazing down at him, his blue-gray eyes flashing in the light.

I buzzed him up, and, a few moments later, he arrived at my door.

"You okay?" he asked me, looking me up and down. Cinnamon rubbed around my legs, chirruping up at the new visitor curiously.

"I’m okay," I admitted. "I just...I had a bad dream."

Now that I had said the words out loud, it felt even more stupid that I had called him all the way over here, dragged him out to this place when I should have known better. What the hell was I thinking? I needed to get myself together, urgently. I couldn’t call him out in the middle of the night just because I’d had a damn bad dream.

"Can I come in?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly. The gentleness caught me off-guard coming from this big man who stood before me like a lion, filling the space in the doorway.

"Yes," I replied, stepping aside, and Cinnamon led us both into the room beyond. He glanced around.

"You live on the ground floor?"

"It was the cheapest apartment..."

"You should try to get somewhere higher up," he remarked. "More of a vantage point if anything does happen."

"I know," I murmured, dropping my chin to my chest. I should have been more careful about picking my new home when I came here, given everything that had happened, but I had refused to make decisions based on the way Franco had treated me. I had already allowed him to rule my life for so long, and it felt twisted to allow that to follow me all the way out here, too.

"It’s okay," he assured me. "I’m here."

"Thank you for...thank you for coming," I blurted out. "I know it’s crazy, I shouldn’t have bothered you-"

"Hey," he cut me off. "When I told you that you could contact me about anything, I meant it. You hear me?"

His voice was firm, and I fell silent. I was so used to finding some way to excuse what I needed, there was something almost relieving about having him lay down the law for me like that, make it so there was no space for me to argue.

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