Page 7 of May 11

Opening the slider door, she stepped out of the van and closed the door. With her key fob, she locked the vehicle.

A loud wolf whistle pierced her ears. Ignoring the bikers behind her, she circled to get her bearings. She was behind a building. A road to the right appeared to go in the direction she needed.

She walked away, hoping the van would be safe.

"Hey, lady."

She continued walking. Part of keeping herself safe while traveling had to do with looking confident. She held her chin level with the ground, her shoulders back, and tried to keep her hips from swaying, but that was hard when she carried her extra weight in her hips and breasts. When one part of her moved, it was a chain reaction, and she swayed.

Another whistle came. That one would've brought dogs running if there were any nearby.

"Hold up." Heavy boots thunked behind her.

Her pulse accelerated. She walked faster, seeing the front of the building in sight.

A biker stepped out from around the corner, blocking her path. "I can handle it from here, brother."

She looked between the two men. The one in front of her was older. She recognized his voice from last night. He was the one who invited her to stay behind the clubhouse.

He tapped his chest. "I'm Wire."

Tall and broad-shouldered, he waited for her to acknowledge him. To her surprise, he had green eyes. Because of the sinister events last night and only seeing him in the darkness, she'd assumed his dark hair was black and his eyes were brown. Instead, he had a salt-and-pepper style in his hair and beard that no salon could create—he was beautifully rugged.

He had a pair of worn blue jeans and a dark gray t-shirt on under his black leather vest. His hair brushed his shoulders. There was no style. It was as if he'd gotten a haircut a year ago and let it all grow out, and it landed perfectly.

Maybe he sensed her studying him because he took that moment to thrust his fingers in his hair and pull it off his forehead. For some reason, that made his beard stand out. He had a nice thick beard—so many men had straggly ones. She quite liked a bushy one.

"I remember your name." She moistened her lips. "You mentioned there was a coffee shop on the block."

"I'll show you." He waited on the sidewalk for her to walk to him. "What's your name?"

Hyperaware of him looking at her, she pretended the attention never bothered her. She wasn't stupid enough to give him too much information. But her first name wouldn't hurt.

"Cora."

"Pretty name." He walked her away from the clubhouse building. "Did you sleep good?"

Warmth flushed across her chest. "I did."

"Good." He pointed. "See the sign with the whale?"

"Mm-hm."

"That's where we're going."

"You don't have to take me." She glanced at him. "I'll move on as soon as I have some coffee."

"It was a long night." He grunted. "I could use some caffeine."

She stopped, remembering why they were together. "The man who was hurt?"

"He'll be fine."

She inhaled swiftly. Until that moment, she hadn't realized how much she wanted the man, a stranger to her, to be okay. If he died—she would've been a witness to his murder and obligated to get more involved. There would be police and statements, and—she'd gone through all that last year when her parents were killed.

Once was enough.

Wire motioned for her to walk.

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