Page 59 of Stiletto's Savior

I deepen the kiss, pouring all my feelings into it.

The world outside fades away. Nothing else matters but us.

But I hold back. I want to take my time with her, to savor this moment.

When I finally pull back, our foreheads rest together.

I can feel her breath mingling with mine, warm and steady.

“Guess we really are doing this,” she says, a hint of disbelief in her tone.

“Damn straight,” I affirm, locking my gaze onto hers.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Stiletto

The engine of my bike purrs as I roll into the lot, the familiar hum quieting my nerves.

I’m not usually able to ride my bike much this time of year, but the roads are clear enough to ride.

The clubhouse looms ahead, a second home that smells like leather, old cigarettes, and hopefully some pot roast.

I ran into Ashley this morning when I was grabbing a hot matcha latte at Tart with Miles.

She told us to make sure we came back hungry this evening because she was starting a huge pot roast for the club.

I park and swing my leg off the seat, heart thumping with relief.

This truly is my home.

They didn’t throw me a big welcome-back bash. Thank God. I’m not ready for all that attention yet.

As I step inside, the door creaks, echoing in the empty space and a whiff of something familiar hits me.

It smells like the pungent scent of ginger, but I have to be mistaken. No one in here cooks with ginger.

A few heads turn, but most of the crew are glued to their conversations, eyes darting around like they’re expecting something—or someone.

“Hey, Stiletto!” Ripper calls out, but his voice lacks its usual enthusiasm.

Something’s definitely going on. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I’m not going to worry about it.

I settle onto the worn leather couch, pulling out my phone.

Scrolling through messages, I catch snippets of chatter behind me. Whispers. Glances thrown my way.

“Ugh,” I mutter under my breath, biting my lip.

What the hell is going on?

“Hey, girl.” Poison’s voice cuts through my thoughts like a knife.

She plops down beside me, her long silvery blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. “How are you holding up?”

“I’m fine," I reply, shrugging, but even I hear the edge of uncertainty in my tone.

“Fine? Please.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “None of us are fine today.”

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