Page 25 of Biker's Property

“You’re crazy,” she says.

“Not crazy, Joslin. I have a plan.”

Chapter Twelve

JOSLIN

“Please…” I start slowly and politely, hoping to get through this man’s head that this is aserioussituation. “My husband is no better than these men. If he’s alive, he’ll kill you.”

Ex-husband if I did my job right.

Steel laughs. “If he’s alive, I’ll kill him first. Trust me, church girl… I’m not sending you back to him. I’m not sending you anywhere.”

It sends a strange feeling straight through me. I want to call it fear, and I know fear and the strange sensation I feel is similar, but spreads a warm flush through me instead of forcing me to go numb. I know this man isn’t lying about keeping me close from the way he looks at me.

His eyes aretruesea-green. They’re beautiful, but deep-set in his head. He has a large, hairy body that smells way too much like whiskey right now. And makes me deeply nervous. I don’t want to go back towards Dripping Springs after what happened, but staying in this cramped motel room with Steel…

I don’t know how to explain what he just did in the bathroom. He wanted me. I couldn’t tell if he wanted to hurt me or just…have me.I just wanted him to stop. After everything with my ex-husband… I don’t need problems with a man.

I get up to start cleaning up breakfast. Steel puts his hand on my forearm. I flinch and he pulls his arm away gently.

“Don’t clean up, church girl. Not your job.”

My stomach tightens in a knot. It wasalwaysmy job. And if I didn’t do that job, my husband would hurt me. He enjoyed creative punishments more than hitting me. I sit down at Steel’s command and feel better when his shoulders relax.

He gives me a stern, reassuring look and speaks slowly to me. “I promise, Joslin. Nothing will happen. I just need to clean up your loose ends before we move on.”

“Move on where?”

“Far away from the state where you committed a federal crime, church girl.”

He is way too confident about this situation. If we’re going to leave Arizona, I don’t see the point in going back to Dripping Springs.

“Right. After we march right in front of the cops.”

“Hey,” he says, putting his hand on my forearm slowly. “I will kill anyone who fucks with you. I don’t care if I have to go back to prison.”

I roll my eyes. Steel might think being a hairy, terrifying giant means I trust him, but his appearance has the opposite effect. Prison is nothing to be proud of.

“Don’t expect me to write you any letters,” I tell Steel. He laughs again. He has a deep, almost comforting country ass laugh.

“Charming, church girl. I know you would feel sorry for me and write me love letters every day.”

Love letters? This man is crazy as hell.

“Don’t bet on it.”

He winks at me and my chest has this strange flutter. It reminds me of how I felt when I had my first and last real crush at fifteen-years-old. I’m so much older now that it feels different – like I’m more hesitant to lean into the fluffy feeling in my chest.

“Ready to go?” Steel asks. “You look ready to rumble.”

“Yes. I have never felt more fashionable…”

“At least it’s modest.”

I roll my eyes at his obvious teasing. Steel could use a little bit of Jesus instead of mocking me.

“You’re treating me like a stereotype because I grew up religious, it’s annoying,” I say, punching him gently in the side of his bicep. I don’t know wherethatcomes from. And why I playfully punch his arm without feeling any fear.

---