Page 66 of Property of Spike

Laughter erupts again, and when Spike presses a kiss to my forehead, I know, worry or not, he’ll always find a way to make sure I’m okay.

Chapter Ninteen

Riley

“Who are you?”

I jump at the sudden voice, the bread slipping from my hands and hitting the floor.

“Sorry,” the man says with a smile, his tone apologetic. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before. What’s your name?”

I force a laugh, trying to shake off the surprise. “Riley. I haven’t been here long.”

“Riley?” He smiles again, his eyes thoughtful.

“Hayes,” I answer, pushing the unease down. “Would you like a sandwich?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“Mayo?”

“Mustard.”

“It’s a bit warm for a hoodie,” I tease as I grab a new slice of bread.

“It’s a weakness,” he laughs. “I’m always sweating like a dog by the end of the day, but I find them comforting.”

He takes a seat, and I get to work making our lunch. The silence stretches between us, thick with something I can’t quite name. It’s not that he’s done anything to make me feel uneasy. I just feel... on edge. There are always new faces passing through these gates, and the club’s reach is a lot bigger than just thiscompound. So, it’s not really surprising that I’ve never met this man. He must be okay, or they wouldn’t have let him through the gate.

This isn’t the first time I’ve made one of the strangers a quick lunch, but it is the first time I haven’t felt completely safe doing it.

“I think I’ve heard your name on the news,” he says, breaking the silence. “Something about the Police Commissioner?”

I glance up, surprised. “You have?” I hadn’t realized I was newsworthy. Does Spike know?

“Yeah,” he continues, his voice calm. “Mr. Landry was talking about how his woman and child were attacked in their home some odd weeks back. I’m surprised to see you here, though. Does he know where you are?”

The unease tightens in my chest. Whereiseveryone? There’s usually a crowd of people coming in and out of the kitchen at all hours.

“He’s not happy about it,” I admit, keeping my voice steady. “But he knows we’re here. Spike’s protecting us. Chuck’s not what he makes himself out to be.”

“Most of us aren’t,” he says with a knowing shrug. “You must be something special for Spike to move you inside the compound. Hmm. Anyway, thanks for the sandwich. I’ll get out of your hair.”

He gets to the door, but I can’t help myself.

“Who are you?”

“See you around,” he says, his voice lighter, before slipping through the kitchen and heading for the front door.

I stand frozen, the quiet kitchen suddenly feeling very loud. As the door clicks behind him, I’m left staring at the empty space, my heart beating in my chest.

Something doesn’t feel right. My thoughts swirl, each one louder than the last, but I shake my head. I’m probably justoverreacting. Walking to the door, I peek through the peephole, half expecting to see someone watching from the other side. But whoever he was is simply gone. The courtyard in front of the clubhouse is packed full of people, so he’s probably chatting with his buddies.

Taking a deep breath, I head back to the kitchen.

“Everything alright?”

Again, I startle at the sudden voice and laugh when I see that it’s just Tank.

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