Page 63 of Throttle

“Look. He’ll have my ass if I go against his demands.”

I direct my focus toward Throttle. While he stares at Brass's hand on my own, his jaw begins to tic.

I roll my eyes. “Okay. But he’s not my boy. Everyone needs to stop saying that.”

“Sure. Although, he’s glaring over here like he’s your boy.” Brass smirks, swinging his big thighs over his motorcycle seat.

“Is this now a permanent secret service?”

His engine revs and roars to life. “Yep. Not sure why you need to be followed, but like I said, if I don’t, he’ll bury me six feet under.”

I steal one last glimpse of Throttle. His chest heavily rises and falls with his once kind eyes, turned dark despite the glow from the sun.

“Fine.” Do I want others to see my living situation? Absolutely not but, I won’t win this fight. If Throttle wants me to have a protective detail, then all right. It would be foolish for a member, let alone a prospect, to defy higher-ranking orders.

I drive but want to avoid my apartment right now. When I was in New York, I occasionally cruised for hours, blasting music and singing at the top of my lungs. If it weren't for the intimidating biker following me, I would keep going without hesitation.

The café I've frequented for late-night study sessions comes into sight as the trees become a blur, and I’m being pulled toward it.

Whenever I was sad, my mom would always bake me chocolate chip cookies. Since then, it’s been my go-to source of comfort. Right now, that's what I wish. To order a warm cookie at the café, sparking the nostalgia of my childhood.

Upon arriving in the parking lot, Brass pulls in and parks beside me. I'm unsurprised when he gets off his ride and approaches. I never thought he would stay outside. Though, time alone would be nice.

“Pit stop?” Brass closes the distance between us.

“I didn't want to go home. I'll be quick, so you can wait or come back.”

When I take a step, he grabs my elbow. “Where you go, I go.” He sniffs the air. “Besides, I’m not missing whatever that delicious smell is.”

The aroma of desserts and coffee lingers outside.

“I’m sure you have better things to do than babysit.”

“You’re it. You lead.” He holds out his hand for me to go first.

Guess not.

The café is ideal. Quiet and not busy. I spot a place to sit in the back corner and smoothly move into the small booth. Brass follows, but it’s something comical considering he has to squeeze into the tiny, cramped seat.

A woman, her hair a dark shade, comes over and stands before our table. “Hi! What can I get you both?” Her eyes land on Brass and she blushes.

“I’ll have a vanilla latte, please,” I tell her. “With a warmed chocolate chip cookie.” Heat hits my cheeks, feeling like a child.

With a smile, our server nods, turning to Brass. “And for you, sir?”

Oh boy. Was it getting sweltering in here?

“I’ll just take a coffee. No sugar. No cream. Thanks, darling.” He winks and she about falls over. Can’t blame her. He’s mysterious. Tattooed. Muscled. Hot. And something about his light eyes against his brown skin makes them shine fiercely.

After she scampers off, I lock eyes with my new bodyguard.

“Given that we're here together for eternity, knowing Throttle, I owe you an apology for what happened the other night.”

With a smug expression, Brass leans back. “Mmm. I don’t recall. Which night was this?”

I tilt my head. “Please don’t make me say it. The embarrassment is still seeping from my pores.”

He laughs. “It’s all good. You don’t owe me a thing.”

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