Page 3 of Her Outlaw Biker
Still nothing.
Is he gone? Is this some kind of test?
I step back, shielding my eyes from the setting sun, trying to make sense of the silence. Should I wait? Come back later? Yell his name? Hell, I don’t even know if he goes by Ghost anymore. What if—
A hand grabs my arm.
I scream.
Another grabs my waist, yanking me back. “Easy, sweetheart,” a gruff, male voice sneers in my ear. “We’re here for the same reason as you anyway.”
What the heck? Is this a setup?
Panic claws up my throat. I twist and kick. My boot connects with someone’s shin, but there’s more than one of them. Two, maybe three. One’s laughing, another’s reaching for something tucked in his belt.
“No!” I shout, my throat raw. “Get off me!”
Gunfire cracks through the air like a thunderclap, and blood sprays across my shirt.
The guy holding me jerks, stumbles, instantly letting me go. He clutches his bleeding arm, groaning as he staggers backward.More shots—precise, spaced out. Controlled. The other men scatter, ducking for cover behind the truck.
Then he steps out from the trailer’s side.
Ghost.
He’s taller than I imagined, broader too. Dressed in black, combat boots and worn jeans, a rifle held steady in his arms like it’s a part of him. His face is shadowed by a ball cap, but I make out a strong jaw covered in dark scruff, and an expression cold enough to freeze hell.
He doesn’t say a word. Just walks toward us, one slow, deliberate step at a time.
The guy who grabbed me is already gone, crawling back to the bike he came in on. His buddy follows, limping, muttering profanities. They peel off, engines roaring, dust swallowing them whole.
And then it’s quiet again.
My heart slams against my ribs. My legs won’t stop shaking. I look at him—the man I came all this way to find—and for a second, I forget how to breathe.
He lowers the rifle, but his gaze sharpens, cutting straight through me. “Aren’t you leaving with them?”
His voice is quiet, the kind of quiet that makes the hair on your neck stand up. Controlled. Dangerous. Like the pause before a storm hits.
“What?” I gasp, heart still hammering. “No—I don’t even know them!”
He stalks closer, each step deliberate, precise. “You led them here, didn’t you? They showed up right after you did.”
He must have been watching. He must have seen me the moment I stepped into his territory…
“I don’t know,” I croak, shaking my head. “I—I swear, I didn’t mean to lead anyone. I came alone. I came for you.”
His expression doesn’t change. He’s ice beneath the desert heat, staring at me like I might explode. Fury simmers just beneath the surface, not loud or theatrical, but heavy. Measured. And somehow, that makes it worse.
He’s terrifying.
And God help me…he’s so insanely sexy.
His jaw tightens, the muscle twitching like a loaded gun. There’s something coiled in him, something feral and disciplined all at once. I should be afraid. Maybe I am. But not in the way I should be.
“You came for me?” he scoffs. “Who the hell are you?”
I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. My throat is sandpaper. My heart’s slamming like a drum in my chest.
