Page 9 of Baby for the Bikers

“Let her try.” My voice comes out rougher than intended. “She owes us five grand and an explanation.”

“And maybe dinner?” Maddox ducks my half-hearted swat. “What? We all see it. Girl’s gorgeous even while wrecking our bikes.”

He’s not wrong. She’s a mystery wrapped in combat training and curves that catch even security camera attention. A runner who landed in exactly the wrong parking space.

Our parking space.

Time to say hello to our new neighbor.

4

ROWAN

Through my window,I hear a truck door slam, heavy boots on the pavement, and male voices that make my hands clench on the dish towel.

The timer dings too soon and not soon enough. The cupcakes are perfect and have risen just right. Mom would be proud if she could see me now, using her lessons to cope with disaster instead of club business.

They need to cool before frosting, but I don’t think I have that kind of time. The voices outside are getting closer. The boots on the pavement sound like a countdown.

Just as I set the cupcakes on the cooling rack, the pounding starts on my door. It shudders under the first blow. Three more hits, and the lock gives way completely, and suddenly, my kitchen feels very small.

They fill the doorway as if they own it. Three men who have no business being that attractive while breaking and entering. My first panicked thought is that Dad found me, but then my eyes dart to their exposed arms. I don’t see the snake brand thatmarks Viper members. These men are too beautiful to be part of Dad’s brutal world.

The one in front radiates authority, but not the crude kind I grew up with. His green eyes sweep my apartment with controlled power while his muscles shift under a shirt that fits him too well. Everything about him screams that he’s the leader, but with a refinement the Vipers never had.

The second prowls past me into my kitchen, all lean grace and dangerous charm. A grin plays on lips that probably talks women into terrible decisions regularly. The way he moves reminds me of panthers I’ve seen in documentaries—beautiful but deadly.

But it’s the third one who steals my breath. Silent, watchful, moving through my space like smoke. He reminds me so much of Jason it hurts—that boy from the Shadow Riders MC I met at sixteen during a bike rally. The one who never spoke but watched everything with eyes that seemed to see too much. The one who made me realize not all bikers are like my father’s men.

This man has that same quiet intensity, that same way of looking at you like he’s memorizing every detail. But Jason was young danger, and this man is all grown-up threat wrapped in a body that belongs on magazine covers.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” The words burst out before I can stop them. “You could have knocked like normal people instead of destroying my door!”

A muscle ticks in the leader’s jaw, but his lips curve slightly. “Feisty for someone who destroyed three custom bikes and ran.”

My heart stops. The bikes. But no—they’re too calm for men who just lost thousands in custom work. Dad’s men would already be throwing punches. These guys look more amused than angry.

Unless…

My mind races through possibilities, each worse than the last. It could be the River Kings MC—they’ve been trying to steal Dad’s operation for years. They’re known for being subtle, getting what they want through careful manipulation instead of brute force. Maybe they tracked me here, thinking they could force me to work in their kitchens.

Or worse, they could be the Desert Demons. They’re the only ones pretty enough to be models while still being deadly. Last I heard, they were expanding territory, looking for new ways to clean money. A bakery would be the perfect cover.

“We haven’t properly introduced ourselves.” The leader’s voice breaks through my spiraling thoughts. “I’m Brick Kane. These are my brothers, Maddox and Ryder. We own Black Dog Garage.”

The garage. The bikes. Oh god.

“And those beautiful machines you turned into modern art this morning?” Maddox’s grin holds sharp edges. “Those were ours.”

Something that might be relief hits me—they’re not Dad’s enemies. But as I look between the three men who radiate controlled power, I’m not sure this is any better.

“I didn’t—” I start, but Ryder moves, silent steps bringing him closer. His eyes never leave mine, and suddenly, I can’t remember what I was going to say.

“Didn’t what?” Brick advances slowly. “Didn’t mean to destroy months of work? Or didn’t mean to run after?”

I back up a step, trying to keep them all in view. Stupid. I’m already cornered in my own kitchen.

“I can explain,” I start, but Brick cuts me off.

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