Page 1 of Falling for the Biker
1
Ruby
I hate this feeling. I hate feeling the need to look over my shoulder at all times of the day to make sure I’m not being secretly watched or followed.
Even if I am, what am I supposed to do about it? My poor noodle arms are as defenseless as they come. Sure, I can throw a punch, but I think I’d end up hurting myself more than I’d hurt the person following behind me.
Thatperson. Specifically, my stalker. A person whose identity I am not familiar with.
Just keep walking, Ruby. You’re almost there.
Every step I take away from the heart of Willowbrook Ridge, the more unease I feel that something bad might happen.
The only way I can escape one dangerous person is to head in the direction of another.
On my phone, I have an address already pulled up. Keeping my attention on the screen to keep myself calm, I watch as I getcloser and closer to my final destination. A tattoo parlor that I had never known about until a police officer mentioned it to me.
I was told the answer to my problems would be inside. A last resort if the time ever came. Well, we’re hitting that point.
As my phone reveals that I’ve reached my destination, my steps slow to a complete stop.
Lifting my head to look at the shop, I grimace at theCrossroads Inksign.
What a fitting name. That’s how it currently feels right at this moment. I’m at a crossroad. If I can’t get what I need, then what outcome will I find down the dark path I’m going to be forced to take?
Dragging my eyes away, my shoulders relax an inch at the sight of a motorcycle sitting in one of the spots. Against the asphalt, the word OWNER is painted, cracked, and faded with time.
I can do this.
I have to do this.
As soon as I step inside, it’s like abandoning one world and stepping onto another.
Graffiti covers the walls, a design that holds more purpose than an attempt to cause damage. On top of painted words are posters of women with enough skin showing to make me blush.
Music blares somewhere deeper into the shop, but it’s muffled behind a closed door.
Fighting off a shiver to stop from looking weak, I try to find something that isn’t whispering in my ear that it’s a good idea to run away.
There’s a gentle hum of buzzing sounds. Leather chairs are paired with wooden stools arranged around the shop, creating small, station-like sections. Currently, two of them are occupied.
One has a woman with fiery red hair and a steel-eyed look as she stares down at her current project, as if she’s drawing a masterpiece.
Another has a man with a beard and a leather vest with the very design I’m looking for. A patch belonging to the Steelwood MC. This must be him. The owner. The man I’m hoping will save me.
With his back turned to me, offering nothing but the fanged skull curving against his spine, he holds no interest in even looking over his shoulder to see who is here to interrupt the peace.
“Aren’t you cute?” The woman smiles at me from her chair without lifting her gaze. Pausing her work, she turns to give me her full attention. “You got an appointment?”
Just thinking about putting a needle to my skin makes my stomach clench up. My limit of handling pain is a fat zero. Knowing me, I’d pass out. The thought alone is enough to make me dizzy.
“No, um,” I stiffen up underneath her gaze. “I’m looking for someone named Finn?”
Her brows come together like she’s puzzled before turning her attention back to the glowing red canvas of the shoulder she’s working on. “No one by that name here. Sure you got the right place?”
Opening my mouth to say more, the bearded man a few feet away from her shakes his head.
“Cherry.” Saying the word, I’m caught off guard by the deep rumble of his voice.
