Page 94 of His Road Dog

"Talk to me, babe." He stroked her head.

She sniffed, and her arms went around him. The strength of her holding on to him only made him ready to go to war to fix whatever was bothering her. It was the first time he'd seen her cry tears. Seeing them come from her, killed him.

"I overheard you." She raised her head. "Talking to the others at the house, planning to hurt my dad."

He shook his head. "You heard wrong."

Her spine straightened, and she pulled back. He tugged her closer, not letting her move away from him.

"All this time, what have I taught you?" He circled his fingers around her wrists and brought them together, pressing her palms against his chest. "What are you supposed to do?"

She looked away. "Trust you, but—"

"Have I ever hurt you?"

She studied his face and shook her head.

"Would hurting your dad hurt you?"

Her brows lowered. "Yes."

He cupped her face and brought her gaze back to him. Struggling to trust him was expected. It would take her a lifetime to fully believe in him, but she needed to learn how to depend on him.

"If you have questions, ask," he said.

"You told me not to question you." Her mouth tightened. "At your house or the clubhouse."

He had told her that.

Stroking her wet cheeks with his thumbs, he inhaled deeply. There were exceptions. There had to be, especially right now, when their relationship was still new.

"Babe..." He kissed her forehead. "I will tell you if I can't answer you."

"Then, I can ask you anything?"

He dipped his chin. "You can ask whatever you want, but if I tell you it's nothing for you to worry about, then what are you going to do?"

"Not worry about it," she mumbled.

The tension in his chest eased. He'd thought he'd made that clear all the other times he was showing her to trust him. But overlooking her struggles and losing her because she was afraid to come to him wasn't an option. He'd make concessions because he wasn't trying to scare her away. He was trying to pull her in closer.

"Are you going to harm my dad?" She fisted his shirt. "No matter how much I love you, Michael, you need to know that I will do whatever possible to stop you from hurting my family."

He pulled her over to his Harley, sat down, and patted his thigh. "Get up here."

"I'd rather not."

"Nicole."

She exhaled harshly, crawled up, and straddled his lap, facing him. He took her hands, circling her wrists with his thumb and middle finger, and pulled her closer.

"I think we both know what your father and the men in the commune do for a living." He gazed into her eyes, not expecting her to admit to him he was right.

The day she'd made him stay back while she continued on her way home, wanting to protect her family, he understood that loyalty ran high with her.

"I want to discuss a business plan with your dad," he said.

"About...?"

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