Page 164 of Texting Dr. Stalker

The guy let me go, scrambling to his feet and cupping where I’d elbowed him. He hobble-ran away, but the motorcycle rider snarled to a stop, killed the engine, then launched himself after him.

The thief didn’t stand a chance.

The motorbike rider grabbed him around the scruff of his t-shirt, wrenched him backward, then ploughed a fist into his face.

The thief screamed as blood spurted from his nose.

Just like I’d lost myself to instinct and rage, the rider did too. He punched the guy again and again. Ploughing him backward with each pummel until he bounced off a car and dropped to his knees.

Bowing over his legs, the thief cupped his head and begged, “Stop! I didn’t do nuffin! I’ll report you. Stop!”

The rider either didn’t hear him or didn’t care. His booted foot swung back and collided with the creep’s ribcage, sending him sprawling on the ground.

Seeing one stranger beat up another finally cut through my panic.

Swaying to my feet, I went to where the guy kicked the thief again and hesitantly touched his shoulder.

The rider swung around, his visor reflecting me and the stormy clouds above.

Unable to see his face, I hoped—based on his help—that he could be trusted. “You can stop now. I-I’m okay.” Holding up my cracked phone, I added, “I’ll call the police. If you hurt him anymore, you might get into trouble.”

The stranger’s chest rose and fell beneath his leather jacket and dark jeans. His body seemed familiar. His scent tugging at memories skipping just out of reach.

The longer we stood there, the more my pulse calmed. He felt safe. Protective. I sucked in a sigh of relief. The only one who’d acted like that kind of sedative on my system was X, but…he never replied.

Checking my phone, I skimmed the notifications.

Nope, he hadn’t texted back.

My gaze snagged on the bike. On the polished chrome and sleek lines.

Wait, I know that bike.

My eyes snapped back to the rider.

He made a noise in the back of his throat, then reached up and tore his helmet off.

I tripped backward as deep red hair and glowing green eyes appeared. “Z-Zander?”

Without a word, he stepped close and grabbed me. His hand went to the back of my neck like X did. His other fisted my hip and tugged me into him, crashing our bodies together and holding tight. His arms snaked around me in the tightest embrace.

I couldn’t decide who trembled harder.

Neither of us spoke as he pressed his face into my hair and sucked in a tattered breath.

The thief scrambled to his feet and took off running. With a curse, Zander let me go and chased.

The creep didn’t get far. With one strike of his helmet across the guy’s shoulders, Zander ensured the thief fell forward, landing chin first on the ground.

I couldn’t get my bearings.

Zanderwas the one who beat him up?

Zander willingly hurt someone after a lifetime of saving people?

“I-I don’t understand.” Rubbing my chest where my heart switched from fire to ice, I tripped toward him and shook my head. “How are you here?”

“Give me a sec.” Fisting his phone, Zander called the police and muttered details to the operator while pacing around the guy who’d given up and sat in a dejected ball by his feet.

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