Page 17 of Her Outlaw Biker
I glance over my shoulder at her again. She hasn’t moved, but her lips part a little, lashes fluttering. She’s dreaming. Hopefully she’s not caught up in something as gutting as I was. If I could crawl inside her skull and pull every bad memory out by the root, I would.
I reach out and brush a knuckle down her cheek, gently running the pad of my thumb over her plump lower lip.
Everything about her is so soft…
I wonder how she survived among men like Rigs, Cutter, and the other bastards in the MC. I know how manipulative they can be, how callous…and yet somehow she’s still standing. Still fighting. Still here.
“Clover,” I whisper. Just her name.
She doesn’t stir.
I could get up now. Make coffee. Check the perimeter. Pretend I’m still a ghost who exists out here alone and doesn’t get attached. But it’s already too late for that, isn’t it?
I’m not letting her go back. Not to her father. Not to the MC. Not to anyone who’d use her like a damn pawn just to settle a debt. I don’t know what the hell comes next. But I know this—she stays with me. I’ll burn down the whole damn world before I hand her over.
Something shifts in her face, a frown tugging at her brow. She turns toward me in her sleep, reaching blindly like she knows I’m not beside her anymore.
My chest cracks open.
I slide back into bed, careful not to wake her, and pull her into my arms. Her body instantly melts into mine like it’s always belonged there. She sighs soft and sweet against my neck, burrowing further into me. I press a kiss to her temple and close my eyes, letting her scent ground me.
I’ve killed for far less than the way she makes me feel. I promised not to take a life again, but for her, I’d pull the trigger without a second thought.
She’s mine now.
Mine to protect. Mine to keep.
And God help anyone who tries to take her from me.
She’s still asleep in my arms when I ease out of bed again, careful not to wake her.
My gut’s been chewing itself raw all night. I can’t ignore the feeling any longer, especially not after that nightmare.Something doesn’t add up…the ambush, the timing, the Iron Vultures sending her down here for something so small…
No, this isn’t just about clearing her father’s debt. There has to be a catch.
I grab my burner phone from the drawer and step outside. The desert’s quiet, sun already climbing. Heat crawling in. Buzzards circle high above like they know what’s coming.
I dial a number I swore I’d never use again.
It rings once.
“Thought you were dead,” comes the voice on the other end, gravel-thick, half-surprised, half-annoyed.
“Close enough,” I mutter. “Rafe. I need intel.”
“Jesus, Ghost. It’s been what, three years? You crawl outta your grave just to ask for a favor?”
“Not a favor. Truth.”
He goes quiet for a second.
“Alright. Talk.”
I glance back at the trailer, heart thudding. “A girl showed up at my door. Said she was sent by Rigs. Her daddy owed a debt. Rigs wanted her to find me. Said it’d clear the books.”
Rafe whistles low. “So they finally made their move.”
“What move?”
