Page 11 of Axle
She’d need that steel if she wanted to survive what was coming.
“You came back,” she said, voice low and scratchy from disuse.
“Said I would,” I grunted. “How’s the head?”
“Fine.” She pushed to her feet, a stubborn set to her jaw that made something hot tilt under my sternum. “Where’s my bag?”
“In a safe place.”
Her brows shot up. “I didn’t ask if it was safe. I asked where.”
“And I gave you the answer I’m willing to give.” I stepped closer and reached for her. “Time to go.”
Her brows pulled tight, and she recoiled from me. “Go?”
“You’re not sleeping in a clinic with a door that opens to a hallway anyone can walk through. Not when you’ve got trouble following you like a shadow. I’m taking you somewhere safer.”
Her chin lifted, but the effect was ruined when she wobbled on her feet. “You’ll be safer if you let me go. I don’t want anyone to?—”
I sighed and lifted her into my arms before she could finish the protest. She felt so damn good anchored against me. As if she belonged there.
“What are you—hey! Put me down!”
“Not a chance.”
She pressed her lips together like she wanted to argue but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t sound ridiculous, considering she’d almost fallen over. Still, she struggled a little, then gave up, crossing her arms with a huff. “This is kidnapping, you know.”
I smirked. “Tell me your name. I’ll let you walk.”
I was lying, and we both knew it.
She glared at me but said nothing.
“Yeah,” I murmured, “that’s what I thought.”
I stepped out of the exam room, and Cage opened the front door and held it without a word. His mouth kicked sideways as his gaze cut to the bundle in my arms and the way I’d already angled my body between her and the world.
“Don’t rip my stitches,” he said mildly.
“You didn’t place any,” I tossed back.
“Exactly.” He let the door swing shut behind us, but not before I heard his bark of laughter.
Jackass.
I carried her across the compound and into the clubhouse, ignoring the few curious glances we got. Nobody said a word. They didn’t dare. I was making it abundantly clear that she was mine.
Twining her arms around my neck, she tucked her face against my throat when I jogged up the stairs, as if the motion had tipped her stomach in a way that wasn’t fun.
“I can walk in a minute,” she muttered when we reached the top step.
“I know,” I said, yet didn’t loosen my hold. “You don’t have to.”
The second-floor corridor had doors all along it. Some were guest rooms, others were for brothers like me who lived at the clubhouse permanently. My door sat at the far end, and afterunlocking it, I kicked the hard surface gently, and it opened under the pressure.
My room looked like a man lived in it—gray walls, a low black leather couch set under a window, a heavy pine dresser, gear bags stacked like a tidy tower near the closet. The bed was a king with dark sheets and a headboard a woman could brace her hands on.
Fucking hell.I was suddenly hard as a rock.
