Page 14 of Falling for the Biker
As the doors slide open and another worker steps out, my frown comes back fuller than ever. Leaning against the handles of my bike, something swims around in my gut. A bad feeling.
What if there’s a reason why I didn’t catch her stalker in the act? What if he’s doing the same thing I am, waiting? What if he’s closer than I thought he’d be?
He’s a coward who only intimidates her from a distance. What if he decided today wastheday?
The buzz of my phone all but confirms my worries. Seeing Ghost’s contact freezes me over faster than the weather.
Answering it without missing a beat, I can feel my heart lodged in my throat.
I asked our hacker to keep an eye on her during his downtime. Promised him a favor if he’d do me one. Seems he’s found something, orsomeone.
He doesn’t give me time to say hello. Instead, his voice comes out clear. “Back entrance.Now.”
My bike would get me there instantly, but the roar of the engine would give me away just as quickly. Not knowing how far Ghost’s eyes reach, I don’t risk it.
Jumping off my bike, I run with my phone clutched in my hand. Can’t even be bothered to hear his status. All I know is there’s one place I need to be.
My boots thud against the wet asphalt as something foreign trickles through my veins.Fear.
I can’t remember the last time I felt it. Not when I’m talking with my fists. Not even for Chelsea, since I know her husband will keep her safe.
Fear can get a man killed, but here I am, using it as fuel, willing my feet to eat up the pavement. The fear isn’t for me; it’s a cold, sharp needle in my gut, pricking with every second Ruby is out of my sight.
Then I see them. Silhouetted under the harsh dock lights. Ruby and a man. Too close. The air leaves my lungs in a rush.
My heart isn’t just crashing; it’s a sledgehammer trying to beat its way out of my chest. The distance between us feels like a mile. Every step is too slow, a nightmare of what can happen to her in the time I waste by not being quick enough.
My phone is a forgotten weight. I let it slip from my fingertips, the crack of plastic on asphalt a distant sound. My world has narrowed to the space between his hand and her arm. I don’t think. I act. My hand closes on the bastard’s jacket, and I wrench him back with a force that sends him stumbling. The only thing that matters is putting space between him and her.
Then I see it. The glint of steel in his fist.
The world doesn’t just disappear; it explodes in a silent, red roar. The fear, the worry, the last shreds of my control—it all vaporizes in the white-hot furnace of my rage.
A knife. He brought a knife to terrorize her. To threaten her.
My eyes snap from the blade to Ruby. She’s horrified, her arms pressed like her chest as her eyes move around like she doesn’t know where to look.
The imprint of his fingers feels like a brand on my own soul when I see the mark on her skin. He’s touched her. Has he hurt her? Is that why she’s gone so pale?
His voice is a meaningless buzz, a fly trying to be heard over a hurricane. I don’t hear words. I see his mouth moving, and all I can think is that he’s using the same breath he used to threaten her.
He moves, a frantic, stupid lunge. I see the arc of the blade, but I don’t retreat. I meet it. The sting as it sinks into my arm is nothing. A pinprick. A confirmation.
This piece of shit brought his knife to fight. Unlike him, I don’t need a blade to get my message across.
He’s cursing me, his face twisted, blaming me. The irony is so profound it feeds the inferno. He threatened what’s mine, put his hands on her, and now he has the audacity to blame me for ruining everything?
The pain in my arm is a distant throb, a dull counterpoint to the symphony of fury screaming in my head. It’s not enough. Pulling him away wasn’t enough. The knife in my arm isn’t enough. The only thing that will be enough is when he’s no longer capable of drawing breath to say her name.
Her stalker tries to twist the blade to cause more pain, but I’m reaching out to wrap my fingers around his throat.
“You threatened her.” The words slip between the cracks of my clenched teeth.
He sputters as I cut off his windpipe. Through my rage, I hear my name being called within the haze, soft as a songbird’s melody.
“You touched what is mine.” Growling, my fingers ache with how much pressure I’m applying.
Judge’s words are a blur in the back of my mind. Hell, I even tell myself to let go, but my body doesn’t listen.
