Page 22 of Her Outlaw Biker
Where the fuck are you, Rafe?
I back away from the window, pacing. The waiting is worse than the fight. Always has been. It makes your mind go places, bad places. Places filled with betrayal and blood and your girl’s face in the cross fire.
My eyes flick to Clover. She’s silent. She hasn’t said a word in the last ten minutes. She’s stretched across the bed, bare legs tangled in the sheets, head propped up on her arm. Watching me. I can feel her eyes on my back like a touch I’m not ready for.
She has so many questions…I can feel it.
My chest tightens almost painfully. If I don’t get the drop on the Vultures now, we’ll both be ghosts before dawn.
I turn back to the table, double-checking the weapons laid out there. Glock’s clean and loaded. Knives are sharp. Spare mag, burner, gloves, and duct tape…just in case. I tug on the Kevlar vest, strap it down tight.
And then finally, the phone dings.
A single message.
Time: 02:15. Location: 44th & Loma Verde. Warehouse 6.
No words. No name. Just enough to move.
I exhale slowly, relief and dread swirling in my gut like smoke. Rafe came through. But this also means it’s time.
Time to finish this rat chase once and for all. Because the Vultures will never stop.
I reach for the second mag, sliding it into the Beretta with a clean click. The shotgun’s already locked and loaded. I grab two knives, securing one at my ankle and the other on the belt. Flash-bang. Kevlar vest. I move like I’ve done this a thousand times, because I have.
But I’ve never done it with someone like Clover in the room, naked under motel sheets, watching me like I’m already halfway in the grave.
She moves. I don’t hear it, but I feel it. The shift in the air. Then her arms slide around my waist from behind, soft, bare, warm…and everything inside me buckles.
“Please don’t go,” she whispers.
Her cheek presses between my shoulder blades, and I close my eyes, just for a second. The feeling of her skin on mine is the only peace I’ve known in years. And she’s giving me this, again, knowing I’m about to walk into the lion’s den.
“I have to,” I say, my chest tightening at the soft plea in her voice.
“No, you don’t,” she says, hugging me tighter. “We can leave. Now. Tonight. Just…go far away. Disappear.”
Her voice breaks, and fuck—it nearly breaks me.
“I’m done running,” I mutter. “I’ve run enough for three lifetimes.”
She steps around me, still naked, still soft and perfect and mine. Her eyes glisten. “And what if they kill you?”
“They won’t.” I reach for her face and brush a tear off her cheek with my thumb. “I’ve got it covered. I’ve called in a favor I never thought I’d use.”
Her brows furrow.
“An old contact—one of the good ones. He’s gonna help your dad…he’s gonna be extracted. Safe. Quiet. Off-grid.” I pause, brushing a strand of damp hair behind her ear. “He’ll never have to owe anyone again.”
Her lips part, trembling slightly. “You did that?”
I nod.
“You don’t even know him.”
“I don’t need to. He’s yours.”
She leans into me, pressing her bare chest to my front, arms wrapping tight around my waist like she’s trying to fuse us together. “I’m more worried about you, though…”
