Page 9 of Falling for the Biker
The only rule that matters is the one I’m making right now.Nothingtouches her. The promise is a vow, sealed in the silent, violated air of her apartment.
Biting her lip, she nods and steps so close I can feel the heat radiating from her body, can hear each time her breathing stutters as more fear of the unknown comes in waves. She doesn’t peep a word, placing her trust in me completely. The weight of it is heavier than any weapon.
Carefully, cautiously, I make my way inside a place she once considered safe.
The apartment is empty. No creeper, no confrontation. Just the violated silence of her space.
“I didn’t forget to lock the door,” she argues, her voice fraying at the edges before I can even speak about our lack of findings. “Someone was in here… I can feel it in my gut. You have to believe me.”
Fuck. She’s trembling. Something claws at my chest, sharp and urgent. As I tuck the knife away, I have to fist my hand to stop the impulse to reach for her.
“The cops… they think I’m forgetful, but I’m not Diesel. I’m not.” Bottom lip wobbling, she forces out the words like they’re planted deep inside her chest.
The crack in her voice, the sheen of tears she’s fighting—it ignites a cold, precise fury. They got in her head because no one stood up for her. The thought of anyone making her feel this small, this helpless, makes me want to break things.
To get my fingers wrapped around the bastard’s throat who made her feel unsafe in the first place.
The hotter, more immediate danger is the impulse to pull her into my arms and absorb the tremor right out of her body.
Giving in to the rage that’s brewing is only going to add to her list of things to fear. Somehow, I find the willpower to calm down before I face her.
“Hey.Hey.”I reach out, my hands engulfing her hunched shoulders. I have to duck my head to catch her downcast eyes. My thumbs move almost on their own, rubbing small, soothing circles into the tight knots of her muscles. “I know you’re not, Ruby. Someone was here. That feeling in your gut? I know it well. This place isn’t safe.”
Well, fuck. So much for the plan. The thought of her staying here alone, of those tears finally falling… shit. I can’t take her to the clubhouse. My brothers are hyenas around a woman like her. And I’m no better. That’s the problem. I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off her since she walked into the shop, a splash of color in a grayscale world. I think that’s why I’ve been building these walls in the first place.
“Pack some clothes for a day or two, alright? If you have to work, grab a uniform.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I realize the walls are already crumbling. I’m stepping over a line I drew for myself. “You’re staying with me. I agreed I’d keep you safe one way or another, and that’s what’s going to happen.”
Color fills her cheeks as she stares at me like I’ve grown a second head. “You’ll find him?”
“I will.” I’m not just saying the words. The promise is in my voice, and I can feel the need to keep my word.
No matter how long it takes, I’ll make sure it happens.
* * *
As much as I hate the thought of asking for help, I shoot a message to Kansas and Killer. It’s a necessary evil. I’m only one person, and right now, every part of my attention needs to be on the woman beside me, a silent, warm presence on the back of my bike.
The ride is far too short.
When we make it back toCrossroads Ink,the shop is a dark, silent monolith. Ruby hangs back as I unlock the door, her confusion obvious.
“You’re not going to let me crash here, are you?” she asks, her voice small in the vast darkness of the lobby. The posters on the walls look haunting at this hour. “I mean, it’s not that I’m not appreciative or anything, but—”
“I live above the shop.” I cut her off before her nerves can start to spiral. The words feel like a confession, unlocking a part of my life I keep sealed. Without thinking, I flatten my hand against the small of her back to guide her inside.
The contact is becoming a dangerous habit, a jolt of warmth that seeps through her jacket and into my palm. Each touch only makes the next one harder to resist, like a craving I’m no longer trying to deny. It’s a fucking problem.
Her breath hitches, just slightly, at the touch. She doesn’t pull away.
“I don’t let people up here,” I add, the statement hanging in the air. “Not often, anyway.”
Ruby doesn’t speak right away. In the profound quiet, I hear her soft, muttered thanks. It’s filled with something more than gratitude—a shared understanding of the significance of this. We reach the unmarked door that leads to the stairs, a barrier between my public life and my private sanctuary.
I reach past her, my arm brushing against her shoulder as I flick on the light for the stairwell. The sudden glow catches her off guard, and I get an eyeful of the blush spreading across her cheeks. It’s not just embarrassment; it’s a mirror of the same awareness that’s buzzing under my own skin.
The air between us is so thick I can barely breathe.
“Thank you,” she whispers again, her voice trembling not with fear, but with an emotion that threatens to undo me completely. “For believing me. For… all of this.”
