Page 5 of Her Possessive Biker
Angel.
That’s what I used to call her in my head.Never out loud.Couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t drag her into the dark I live in.
So I watched.
From a distance. From a shadow across the street.
I watched her laugh with Jim, eyes scrunching like the world couldn’t touch her.
I watched her bake pies when she was nervous, flour dusting her cheeks.
I watched her smile at old men and cut handsy customers down with a glare that could strip paint.
I watched her flinch when voices rose too fast. Watched her hands shake when glass hit the floor.
I watched. Ilearned.
She hides scars behind sarcasm. She’s stronger than she knows.
She had no idea I’ve been guarding her since the day I rolled into Jackson Ridge with a promise in my pocket and blood still drying on my hands.
Caleb Jean, calledGhost, saved my life more than once. SEAL Team 7 dropped us into places most people don’t survive. Missions the government denied existed. We wereghosts. In and out, no trace.
Reaper wasn’t a nickname. It was the job. I went in first. I brought death without a sound.
Until the mission that went to hell.
Intel wrong. Civilians in the blast zone. Command barking to pull out, leave witnesses behind.
I refused. Ghost refused with me. We hauled two kids through open fire while brass screamed to abandon them.
The top dogs wanted us court-martialed.
We told them to go to hell.
Caleb took a bullet for me. I dragged him out. We both made it.
Later, when he needed me, I answered.
“I owe you,” I told him.“Anything.”
He didn’t cash it in right away. Not until the day we split. We were sitting in some dive bar overseas, blood drying on our gear, adrenaline still pounding.
That’s when he pulled out the photo.
A girl. Red curls. Freckles. Eighteen, maybe nineteen.
“My sister,” he said. “You’ll be done soon. I’ve still got years. Keep her safe. She’s the only thing that matters.”
I slid that photo into my wallet.
Carried it intoeveryfirefight.
She was toogoodfor the sand and the blood. Toobright. Toosoft.
Theangelthat kept me breathing when everything else wanted me dead.
When I left the Teams, I pointed my Harley west and rode until the Rockies cut the sky. Found Jackson Ridge. Foundher.
