Page 73 of Baby for the Bikers

“I’ll drive with you,” Maddox offers, his tone making it clear he’s not doing it out of kindness.

“My bike?—”

“Will be fine here overnight,” he cuts me off. “Chain’s fixed, right?”

I nod, not meeting his eyes. “I can drive myself.”

“Fine.” He turns and walks deeper into the garage without another word.

Ryder catches my hand before I can flee, pulling me back for one last moment. His eyes lock with Maddox’s over my shoulder as he presses a lingering kiss to my cheek—a clear message I don’t fully understand.

I scramble away, cheeks burning, and hurry to my bike. The ride home is a blur, my mind replaying the look on Maddox’s face, the silent accusation. The guilt sits heavy in my chest, making it hard to breathe. What kind of woman does this? What kind of person lets herself get tangled up with three brothers, playing with their emotions, risking the bond between them?

A whore, whispers a voice in my head that sounds suspiciously like my father’s. A selfish, manipulative whore.

At home, I head straight for the shower, needing to wash away the evidence of what I’ve done.

The similarities between the brothers extend beyond their looks.

Brick is the largest, both in height and in girth, his thickness stretching me to the point of delicious pain. Maddox is nearly as long but sleeker, curved in a way that hits spots inside me I didn’t know existed. Ryder falls between them—not as thick as Brick, not as long as Maddox, but perfectly proportioned, fitting me like he was made for my body.

The thought makes me blush, even alone in the shower.

I dry off and dress in comfortable clothes, trying to push away thoughts of the brothers and the mess I’ve created. My new burner phone—purchased after I destroyed the last one—pings with a text as I’m combing out my wet hair.

Unknown number. I open it, expecting a message from one of the brothers.

Instead, the words make my blood freeze in my veins:

You can keep running, but I’ll find you, Leona.

My real name. This is a message from my father.

A cold chill runs through me, icy fingers of dread crawling up my spine. Before I can process it, another text comes through:

Did you really think you could hide from me? I made you. I trained you. I know how you think.

My hands shake so badly I nearly drop the phone.

You have two choices, Leona. Come home willingly, or I will find your sister and begin removing her fingers.

One final text appears:

You belong to the Vipers. To me. I’m coming for you, Leona.

I sink to the floor, my legs unable to support me any longer. He’s close to knowing everything. Where I live. What I want. Who I’ve been with.

This house suddenly feels like a death trap. Paper-thin walls, flimsy locks—nothing that would stop my father or his men for more than seconds. And I’m alone here, unprotected.

I scramble to my feet, grabbing a duffel bag from my closet. Survival instinct takes over as I throw in essentials—clothes, toiletries, the emergency cash I’ve kept hidden behind a loose baseboard. My hands move on autopilot while my mind races.

I need somewhere safe. Somewhere my father’s men won’t look first. The apartment is the obvious target—they’ll come here before anywhere else.

As I zip the bag closed, I make a decision. I can’t stay here tonight. Not alone. Not when he’s so close.

I need protection. I need the brothers.

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