Page 15 of Taken By the Outlaw

My jaw tightens. She won't find one. I've made sure of that.

I should be handling business—calling the buyer, checking our security, debriefing the crew about the heist. Instead, I'm standing here like a lovesick teenager, watching a woman read a fucking book.

But I can't look away from her. Can't stop remembering how she felt beneath me last night—tight, hot, perfect. The surprise in her eyes when pleasure overtook her, like she never imagined her body capable of such response. The way she said my name like a revelation, a prayer.

My hands are numb from gripping the windowsill, but I feel a warmth in my chest, an uncomfortable heat that I recognize as something dangerously close to tenderness. This isn't about sex anymore. If it were just physical, I could have had her and let her go, satisfied the curiosity and moved on. But one taste of Emilia West has left me hungry for more—not just her body, but her mind, her heart, her future.

It's fucking terrifying.

I've built my life around control—of my crew, of our territory, of my own emotions. Feelings are weaknesses, exploitable vulnerabilities that get men like me killed. I learned that lesson early and reinforced it with every betrayal, every knife in the back, every loss.

Yet here I am, watching a slip of a woman pace my compound, feeling things I have no business feeling.

A knock at the door interrupts my thoughts. Cruz enters without waiting for permission, his usual stoic expression replaced with tension.

"We've got incoming," he says without preamble. "Viper scouts, two miles out. Watching the compound."

My body goes cold, then hot with rage. "How many?"

"Just a couple now. But if they're scouting..."

"They're planning something." I finish his thought, mind racing through scenarios, none of them good. "Alert the crew. Full lockdown protocol."

Cruz nods, already turning to go, but pauses at the door. "What about her?" He jerks his chin toward the window, toward Emilia.

"She stays with me," I say immediately. "At all times."

"You sure that's smart, boss? If things go sideways?—"

"She. Stays. With. Me." Each word is clipped, final.

He leaves without further argument, and I return my gaze to the yard. Emilia has settled on a bench, face tilted toward the sun, book open in her lap. She looks peaceful, untouched by the danger that surrounds her. That's about to change.

I stride out of the office, making my way to the yard. She looks up as the door opens, her expression shifting from startled to wary as she sees me approaching. Something flickers in her eyes—fear? Anticipation? Both?

"Come inside," I order, harsher than intended.

She frowns, closing her book slowly. "I'm reading."

"Now, Emilia." I scan the perimeter, suddenly feeling exposed, though I know the Vipers aren't close enough yet to pose an immediate threat.

She must hear something in my voice because she stands without further argument, clutching the book to her chest like a shield. "What's wrong?"

"Inside." I take her arm, guiding her firmly toward the door. "We need to talk."

Once we're back inside the compound, I steer her toward my quarters, away from the main areas where the crew is already mobilizing for potential conflict. She allows herself to be led, though I can feel the tension in her body, the questions building.

"Clark," she says as I close the door to my bedroom behind us. "What's happening?"

I consider lying, consider sheltering her from the reality of the situation. But something about Emilia makes me want to be honest—something in those direct hazel eyes that seems to demand truth.

"There's a threat," I tell her, keeping it simple. "Another MC that doesn't like us much. They're watching the compound."

Fear flashes across her face, followed quickly by resolve. It's an impressive transition, one that makes something tighten in my chest.

"Are they coming here?" she asks, voice steady.

"Maybe." I move to the window, checking that the reinforced shutters are secure. "Probably."

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