Page 14 of Hell Bent

Sway looked at Vicious through hooded eyes. His were intense as he stared back at her. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Would you like a ride home?”

“No, I’m fine.” Sway stared at the man. He was definitely the one from the day she went after Jerome. And from the hospital the day Tesh died. Something about the man made her nervous. It wasn’t the colours on his back or the way he carried himself. It was the way he looked at her. It was like he could see into her soul. Rubbing her hands over her arms, she shivered.

“If you won’t take the ride, let us walk you home. Letmewalk you home,” he corrected.

“I don’t know you.” Sway’s voice shook from being cold.

“I gave you my card, remember?” Vicious reminded her. “Did you keep it?” he asked, just so he could hear her voice again.

“I’m not sure where it’s at.” That was a damn lie. She knew exactly where that card was. It was on her bedside table. His name was Vicious, and he was the VP of the Royal Bastards, Montreal, Canada, chapter.

She didn’t know that much about motorcycle clubs or the lifestyle. If she believed everything she’d heard about them, she should be running away while she had the chance. But something about Vicious made her feel safe, which was crazy as she knew nothing about the man.

“It’s not nice to lie, baby,” he told her, watching her look anywhere but at him. “What’s your name?” No need tofreak her out by him calling her by name. What would she think about him having Sherlock dig into her life? Probably pissed. Definitely pissed.

The butterflies were fluttering now. She’d been called hunny, sweetheart, doll, and a whole lot more, but the way Vicious called her baby had her heart going pitter-patter. “Sabine.”

“How about this? You head home, and I’ll make sure you get there without anything happening to you,” he said.

“Okay.” Taking a step toward home, she couldn’t help but watch Vicious. He let her walk away. As she walked down the street, she caught his reflection in a window across the way. It made her feel safe as she made her way home. Sway wondered if he had a girlfriend. A wife. Both. How much did she want to know about the man? He was definitely older than her. Maybe her brother’s age.

Turning the corner, she hurried along due to the cold, her mind staying on the man keeping her in his sights. Everything about him intrigued and turned her on. Once inside her apartment, she darted across the room like a teenager might. Pulling the curtain back, she looked to see if he had come all the way to her place. When she glanced down at the street, she saw him standing in the lamplight, looking up at her. Lifting a hand, she waved and then let the curtain fall back.

Chapter Nine

Sway stared out the front window of her family’s auto repair shop. The sound of cold wind beating against the windowpanes made her shiver. Every day, she found herself staring out, watching the streets. Every day, she waited for something or someone to show up wanting to get even for her attacking Jerome Michel. Two weeks had gone by since she beat his sorry ass in front of his friends.

He was a lowlife thug who acted like he was a big deal. He wasn’t any kind of deal from where she was standing. She expected retaliation of some sort from the guy, but the only thing that had come out of that whole little display of anger and hostility was that she now had a stalker. Other than the night of Tesh’s funeral, she hadn’t seen Jerome.

The black Silverado parked half a block down was a dead giveaway that someone was watching her. If they thought they were being stealthy, they were sadly mistaken. Sway knew who was sitting there. If Mister Handsome had wanted to get to know her, he should have said so. Shemight have given him a shot. After all, he did walk her home that night.

Turning away from the window, she headed toward the back of the shop. On top of the bike builds, they had a few engine overhauls on a couple classic cars that needed finishing. Business had been good, with work rolling in and out of the shop. It was the little jobs that kept them the busiest—tires, oil changes, brake jobs, things that kept their hands busy and the bills paid.

Once word had gotten around that Tesh had passed away, she thought people wouldn’t come back, but that hadn’t been the case. It seemed people were well aware Tesh had been the manager and she had been the wrench. There were two other guys who worked at the shop, but they mainly did the tires, oil changes, brake jobs, and alignments. She did all the overhauls and rebuilds.

Late at night, when the shop was closed and everyone else had called it a day, Sway stayed late working on the builds. She needed to clear a few lifts to make room for other work. The back room was filled with bikes she’d bought at auctions. They all needed some kind of work, which was why they were cheap. She could turn them around easy enough. Maybe if Mister Handsome ever came around, she could discuss working on his and his friends’ bikes.

Keeping her work area closest to the backroom, she managed to stay out of sight of any pedestrians who may look through the windows. Staying out of sight made things easy for her both during work hours and after. During the day, no one hit on her for dates. At night, they just thought the place was closed.

It wasn’t like she dated. She didn’t even put out signals that she took notice of anyone. But there was always that one guy who thought she needed to be taken care of, needed to be protected. Shaking her head at the thought, Sway hit the button on the car lift. She needed to get a few oil changes done before calling it a night.

Stepping under the car, she went to work draining the oil. Movement to her left caught her attention. Taking a step to the right, she picked up a crowbar and waited for the intruder to move into view.

“Sway?”

Hearing her name called out unexpectedly, Sway banged her head on the underside of the car she was working on. “Son of a bitch! Lottie?”

“Yeah, bitch.”

Sway saw her only friend crouch down. The girl was decked out in all-black patent leather. Her long, straight, black hair hung to her waist. The short, V-shaped bangs and her wing-tipped eyeliner made her look like a vampire off some B-rated movie. The smell of patchouli overtook the odour of motor oil and grease, making Sway queasy. “What are you doing here?” she asked, rubbing her head.

“Checking on you.”

“Why?”

“We haven’t talked about . . . well . . .”

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