Page 4 of Property of Fox

Before I can make my escape, Tank’s large hand closes around my wrist like a vice. “No, you aren’t.”

Tank drags me towards the parking lot where my car is waiting next to Keira’s pink Volkswagen. My heart thuds against my chest as we walk. Each step feels terrifying under Tank's unyielding grip.

“Let go!” I protest. He simply pulls open the driver’s door instead.

“No.” His one-word reply is firm enough to slice through any remnants of resolve bubbling inside me.

He watches until I'm seated in the driver’s seat before slamming the door with such force it rattles everything inside. The cup in my cup holder threatens to spill its contents all over the center console.

“Start the fucking car and go home.”

And just like that, he's heading back toward his bulldozer black motorcycle still parked in front of the bookstore. I watch in the side view mirror as Tank passes Keira without a single word passing between them. She watches him mount his bike before she shifts her gaze to me. Worry crosses her face. The roar of his engine startles her enough that I notice she jumps at the sound. I mouth sorry before putting on my seat belt and backing out of my parking space. Tank is waiting at the entrance of the parking lot, true to his word, to follow me home. I signal when the last car slips by and turns onto the street to head home with Tank hot on my heels, knowing that this might be the last time I see Keira or the light of day for a long, long time.

FOX

There’snothing like a hot shower after a long fucking day working in the cold. I lean against the tiled wall, letting out a contented sigh as I allow myself to just be for a moment. No work deadlines or club obligations looming over me.

But then comes Bruce’s frantic barking. His high-pitched yaps pierce through my sanctuary, sharp and insistent enough to shatter any semblance of relaxation I've built up in those precious minutes under hot water. “What in hell are you barking at?” I cut off the shower mid-lather with soap still clingingstubbornly to my shoulder and hop out with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. The tile underneath my feet is slick, and I stumble slightly before regaining my balance, the damp warmth of the bathroom still clinging to my skin “God dammit,” I mutter to myself. I shoot an irritated glance at the closed door. “Bruce!” I call out, wiping excess water from my face with the back of my hand. The dog’s barks grow even more frantic, echoing with urgency in the small space. “Alright, alright!”

Skipping the jeans and T-shirt, I hastily wrap a towel around my waist, ignoring Bruce's urgent barking that echoes down the hallway. With damp hair clinging to my forehead, I swing open the bathroom door and stride into the corridor.

“What's got you all worked up, buddy?” I crouch down to meet Bruce’s excited gaze. He dances in place, his tail wagging so hard it seems like he might lift off the ground at any moment. Following his line of sight toward the front door, I squint through the dim light of the house.

A sharp knock interrupts my thoughts. My heart skips a beat. Unannounced visitors usually mean trouble in our world. I stride across the floor, each step echoing softly as Bruce zooms ahead of me to greet whoever is waiting.

I swing open the door, half-expecting to see Asher or one of our club brothers. Instead, I’m met with a familiar face—EdenfuckingAnderson.

Her rainbow hair shimmers in the fading light, a cascade of colors that makes her look like she just popped out of a comic book. She stands there, beaming.

“If that’s how you answer the door for every surprise guest, color me impressed.”

“What are you doing here?” I manage to ask.

“Straight to business,” she laughs, patting her hand to my cheek. “Shouldn’t you invite me inside first?”

I hesitate momentarily. Az will have my ass for pissing off his future wife’s best friend, but on the other hand, whatever she wants is bad enough for her to ambush me at my own fucking house. Neither option bodes well for me, but letting her in at least saves me an ass kicking later in front of the club.

“Yeah, alright,” I say finally, stepping aside. “Come on in.”

She slips past me with a theatrical flourish, her energy filling the space like a vibrant explosion. Bruce bounds around her feet, barking with excitement, and she bends down to scoop him into her arms, showering him with affection.

“Well, aren’t you just the cutest little thing,” she coos, the sight of her with my dog softening the edges of my irritation. I close the door behind us and lean against it, arms crossed, trying to maintain a facade of indifference. “I have to admit, I would have pegged you for more of a macho man kind of dog. Not a pocket variety.”

“Hey, Bruce may be small, but he’s still fierce,” I shoot back.

Eden stands up, cradling Bruce against her chest like a cherished trophy, and beams at me. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But let’s not pretend this isn’t a little out of character for you, Mr. Tough Guy.”

I roll my eyes. “What do you want, Eden? You didn’t come all the way here just to pick on my choice of pet.”

“Fair point.” She sets Bruce down, who immediately lunges for his favorite toy by the couch. Eden starts to take off her coat, and that’s when I notice her swollen belly.

“You better not be here to tell me that baby is mine, Eden. I can do math. I fucked you well over nine months ago.”

“Relax, Foxy. That’s not why I am here,” she laughs. “Though, I do wish I could have gotten a photo of your face just now. Hallie thought you’d faint straight away.”

I raise an eyebrow, the tension in my chest unwinding just a touch as curiosity piques. “Hallie knows you’re here? What kind of twisted game are you playing?”

Eden blows a strand of her rainbow hair from her face, that mischievous glint in her eye is unmistakable. “Only a little twisted, I promise. I need your help. Hallie’s told you about my recent success with my new release, right?”

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