Page 10 of Rage's Heart

The woman I kept stealing glances at raised a brow.

I shot her a look. “What? It’s a strong name.”

Lips twitching, she turned back to Maggie. “Diesel,” she confirmed, her voice much lighter than before.

Once the name was logged, we finally stepped outside.

The moment I was out the door, I fished my smokes from my pocket, sliding one between my lips before lighting up.

I took a long drag, exhaling a slow stream of smoke, and tilted my head just enough to look at her again.

Yep.

She was fucking gorgeous.

More of those blonde wisps of hair had come loose from her bun, sticking to her throat. Her scrubs hugged her curves. My eyes dragged lower to her legs as she shifted her weight from one to the other. And then up again in time to see her staring dead at me.

“Really?” Her arms crossed over her chest.

I smirked, unashamed of being caught checking her out. “Can’t blame a man for looking, baby.“

She rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. “You’re not subtle, you know that?”

I exhaled another plume of smoke. “Not trying to be.”

She muttered something under her breath before plopping down onto the bench next to the entrance.

I flicked away some ash, watching her out of my peripheral.

It took a few seconds, but eventually, she sighed and glanced over at me. “It’s customary when someone helps you in an emergency that you at least ask for their name.”

My lips twitched. She was a firecracker and surprisingly I liked it from her.

“I was getting to it.”

Her brow lifted.

Chuckling low, I finally bit the bullet. “Alright, babe—what’s your name?”

A blinding smile lit up her face. “McKenzie.”

“McKenzie,” I repeated slowly, letting it roll off my tongue. I liked it.

I thought about it for a minute. The smart thing would be to give her my road name and then tell her it was nice meeting her. But for reasons I didn’t understand, I found myself giving her my government name. “It’s nice to meet you, McKenzie. I’m Bryce.”

Her eyes went to the patch on the front of my cut. I tapped the stitching with my finger. “Rage is my road name.”

She nodded her head, but I could see the wheels turning. No doubt remembering all the headlines she’d probably read over the years about my club.

I let the silence settle between us for a long moment before I jerked my chin toward her car. “You can go now. Vets got him. No reason for you to stick around.”

Her spine straightened. “I want to stick around,” she shot back, eyes narrowing for me suggesting otherwise. “I want to make sure he’s okay.”

That was unexpected.

I examined her for another second. Studied the way her brows drew together, like the thought of leaving the mutt behind actually bothered her.

And, for whatever reason, that made me like her more.

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