Page 7 of Dark Biker Protector

I pulled my curtains down. It was fine. It had to be. I was just overthinking because of the call I had gotten from Rina earlier this week. Franco couldn’t be here. He would never have been able to find me, I had made sure of that. Whatever was going on in my head right now, I wasn’t going to let it get under my skin.

I pulled the covers up and over me as I slipped into bed, and Cinnamon bounded on to the bed beside me, curling up in a ball and laying his head down as he started to purr. I stared at the ceiling and tried to focus on the main thing that had come out of today – I had managed to get that interview with Chuck. I wasn’t sure if he was going to go through with it, but it wasn’t going to stop me making a nuisance of myself until he did.

I knew there was more to him than met the eye. And I was willing to do anything I could to get to the bottom of it.

Chapter Four – Chuck

"Boss?"

I groaned as I lifted my head from the pillow, glaring at the door opposite me, as someone thumped against it.

"What is it?" I groaned. Brown, one of the Dogs, pushed the door open and jerked his head downstairs.

"There’s some girl here to see you."

"What do you mean, some girl?"

He shrugged.

"Said it’s something about an interview."

"Fuck," I muttered, sinking back down into the pillow and wincing. I had hoped that she would give me a chance to work off some of this hangover before she turned up, but I should have known it wasn’t going to be that easy to get rid of her. She didn’t seem like the type who would let something go when she had finally managed to get her hands on it.

"Should I tell her to go?" Brown asked, crossing his arms across his chest. I shook my head.

"No, no point," I replied. "Tell her I’ll be down in ten minutes. And make me a coffee. I’m going to need it."

Brown nodded and left me to pull myself together – I climbed into a quick shower, blasting off the remnants of the past night, and then headed down to the main part of the compound to meet with Abbey. She grinned at me brightly as soon as she laid eyes on me, and Brown pushed a well-needed cup of coffee into my hands.

"Good morning!" she chirped brightly. I winced and lifted my hand.

"Hey, keep it down," I muttered. "You really think we should do the interview now? While I’m feeling like this?"

"I think you’re going to try and get out of it if I don’t do it now," she replied, cocking her head to the side pointedly. "So, yeah. Let’s do it now, huh?"

She had a point. I likely shouldn’t have agreed to this the day before, but there was something about being the focus of her attention that I enjoyed more than I cared to admit. It had been a hell of a long time since I’d let a woman get anywhere close to me, for good reason, and at least she already knew what she would have been getting into if she did. I didn’t have to pretend I wasn’t the man I was when I was around her, and that had to count for something.

"Can I have a coffee too? Thanks," she told Brown as he passed by us – he stared at me for a moment, like he could hardly believe this girl was ordering him around like this, but I jerked my head to tell him to do as she asked. The sooner we got this done, the sooner we would be shot of her, and I could get back to reality like I wanted to.

Brown returned with her coffee, and she flashed him a warm smile before accepting it and guiding me to one of the small tables that lined the social room of the compound – it was quiet right now, most of the guys sleeping off whatever I had gotten them to do the night before. A few of them stayed right here in the compound, but most inhabited apartments surrounding us, getting a little break from the work where they were able to.

"So, I just wanted to say how grateful I am that you agreed to do this interview with me today," she told me, gushing slightly. "You have no idea how hard it’s been to find a story in Atwood, and I-"

"Don’t make me change my mind," I warned her. She parted her lips, like she wanted to protest, but then, she thought better of it, turning her attention back to the notebook she had just pulled from her pocket.

"Okay, so let’s get down to it," she replied, pulling her phone out and clicking on a recording device on it. "You’re...how old, by the way?”

"Forty-two."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"Damn!” she exclaimed. "I... I didn’t realize..."

"How ancient I was?" I finished for her. She stared at me, eyebrow cocked.

"That’s not what I said," she protested.

"That’s what you were thinking, though."

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