Page 23 of Taken By the Biker Daddies

What was I supposed to do?

“Those damned devils,” Jake cursed under his breath.

My eyes grew wide. Jake knew who that asshole was?

He gritted his teeth. “I’ll make them pay.”

A part of me was touched that he wanted to avenge me, but his anger also scared me. I wasn’t scared of him, just of what his anger could do to him. I didn’t want him to get hurt because of me.

I took off my helmet, got off the bike, and touched his arm. “It’s okay, Jake. It’s going to be okay.”

“No, it isn’t.” His shoulders heaved to keep up with his aggravated breathing. “That guy tried to kill you.”

Just me? Wasn’t he on the bike, too?

“I’m okay.” I tried to sound reassuring now that I had calmed down, my emotions taking a backseat to Jake’s. I stroked his arm. “We’re okay.”

He shook his head. “I promised you that you would be okay.”

I grabbed his hand. “Hey. What happened was absolutely not your fault.”

“That guy was a member of the Raging Devils. He only did what he did because he saw that I was wearing a Black Storm jacket. He recognized me and my bike.”

So that guy was a member of an MC, too. A rival of Black Storm. And here I thought rivalries between bikers only existed in the movies. Still, that didn’t make what happened Jake’s fault.

I squeezed his hand. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, you saved me. You kept me safe.”

Again, Jake shook his head. “I put you in danger. I should never have put you on a bike.”

I frowned. So he was regretting teaching me how to ride a bike now? I wasn’t going to let him.

“Jake, listen to me. I wanted to ride a bike. I enjoyed riding with you. It was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. So thrilling and freeing. And I have you to thank for that.”

“But you nearly died.”

“I’m alive, Jake.”

“But you nearly died,” he repeated as if he hadn’t heard what I’d just said. “You could have crashed into him or into the curb or into a tree. And you could have been thrown off and…”

“I’m alive, Jake!” I spoke louder as I placed both my hands on his arms and stood in front of him so he could look at me. “I’m right here.”

Finally, he looked at me. The anger in his eyes had faded, giving way to sadness and anguish that made my own chest hurt.

Why? Why did he look like he was in so much pain?

I reached out to touch his cheek, to offer him some comfort. He placed his hand over mine.

“I would never forgive myself if anything bad happened to you,” he said, a quiver in his voice.

Why? Because I was Max’s girlfriend and Max was like a brother to him?

No. Right now, he was looking at me like I was more than just someone dear to his friend, like I was someone precious to him personally.

He was looking at me like he was afraid to lose me.

I stroked his cheek. “I’m right here, Jake.”

For a moment, we just gazed at each other like two scared, miserable, wounded souls offering each other what solace we could in the silence. No words were spoken but for the first time, I felt like I got to see a glimpse of the real Jake, and I had an urge to let him know the real me.

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