Page 33 of Her Possessive Bikers

She heads straight for her room, pulling out a duffel bag. "So what's the real story here, Kyler? Why are Dos Banditos suddenly making moves on Luci's territory?"

I lean against the doorframe, watching her fold band t-shirts into neat squares. "It's complicated. They think Tres is weak because he's new blood. Brick..." My voice trails off. "Your dad kept them in check for twenty years. Now they're testing boundaries."

"And I'm what? Collateral damage?"

"You're leverage." I run a hand through my hair, loosening the bun. "Dos Banditos know hitting you would hurt the club more than any territory grab."

She pauses, a Led Zeppelin shirt halfway folded. "Because of Dad's reputation?"

"Partly. But also because..." I choose my words carefully. "The club protects its own. And you're family, whether you want to be or not."

"Great." She shoves the shirt in her bag. "So I'm a prisoner at the clubhouse while you boys duke it out?"

"Hey." I cross the room, touching her shoulder. "You won't be treated like a prisoner. We will make sure of that, you'll be treated like the princess we were always told you were."

She looks up at me, those hazel eyes so much like her father's. "He really meant that much to all of you, didn't he?"

"More than you know." I help her zip the bag.

I'm about to break the awkward silence when Indy does it for me.

"How're those wounds healing?" she asks, setting her duffel on the bed.

"Could probably use a professional opinion." I pull my shirt over my head, letting it drop to the floor. The bandages wrap around my torso, a few spots of red seeping through.

Her fingers brush against my skin as she peels back the tape. "These actually look pretty good. You've been taking care of them."

"Had a good teacher." My breath catches as she traces the edge of a fresh scar. Her touch sends electricity through my nerves, making my muscles tense.

"This one's healing nicely." She leans in closer, her breath warm against my chest. "Though you might want to keep an eye on this spot here."

I catch the scent of her shampoo - something sweet and floral. "Maybe you should keep checking on it."

Her eyes flick up to mine, a slight smile playing at her lips. "That a professional request?"

"Could be personal." I reach up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. To hell with playing it safe. I'm tired of watching Tres and Jacoby circle her like sharks. "Never did properly thank you for patching me up."

Her hand rests against my chest, right over my thundering heart. "Kyler..."

"Tell me if I'm reading this wrong." I lean down, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her skin.

The space between us crackles with electricity as I lean in. Her fingers press against my bare chest, and I swear my heart's about to burst through my ribs. Just as our lips are about to meet, my phone blares "Highway to Hell" - Jacoby's ringtone.

"God Damnit." I step back, fumbling for my phone. Indy turns away, busying herself with her bag. "What?"

"Where the hell are you two?" Jacoby's voice cuts through the speaker. "Tres is breathing fire. Says you should've been back twenty minutes ago."

"We're just finishing up." My voice sounds rough, even to my own ears.

"Well, hurry the fuck up. Dos Banditos are circling again."

"Copy that." I end the call, looking at Indy. "We should..."

"Yeah." She grabs her duffel, not meeting my eyes. "Let's go."

The ride back is quiet, tension thick enough to cut. I keep replaying that almost-moment, wondering if I imagined the way she looked at me. The way her fingers felt against my skin.

We pull into the clubhouse lot, and I spot Jacoby lounging against his bike, cigarette dangling from his lips. His eyebrows shoot up when he sees my shirt's still off under my kutte.

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