Page 29 of Burned in Stone
Then Duck says, “Well, that was fun. Who wants shots?”
The tension breaks. People laugh, go back to their drinks, but I can feel the undercurrent of protectiveness. The MC just declared war for me. A nobody bartender who’s been pushing one of theirs away for months.
“You OK?” Cash asks softly, turning me to face him.
“No,” I admit, shaking. “Not even a little bit.”
Kya pulls me into a fierce hug. “We’ve got you, Merc. That asshole doesn’t know who he just fucked with.”
The instant Kya lets go, Cash steps in and speaks softly, just for me. “Looks like it’s not up to you anymore, angel.” He says it with an edge of humor, but there’s a hot, bright gravity underneath, like the air right before lightning strikes.
Instinct says to fight it, make some crack about how I never asked for a biker cavalry, but my adrenaline’s running on fumes now and for a moment I just let myself lean into him. His arms go around me so fast I almost miss the tremor in his hands. I know he’s furious, but all I feel is relief.
Gabriel thinks he won. Thinks he scared me.
But all he did was push me into the one thing I was trying to avoid—he got the MC involved. And as much as I didn’t want to drag them into this, now I know I’m not alone anymore.
I’ve got backup too. And mine’s a hell of a lot scarier than his.
“Come on,” Cash says, his voice gentle but firm. “Let’s lock up and get you out of here.”
“Want me to drive you home?” Kya asks, but Cash shakes his head.
“She’s coming with me.”
“Cash, I can walk—” I start.
“Are you fucking kidding me? After what just happened?” He takes my hands in his. “Hell no. No woman of mine is walking home in the cold when her stalker ex is after her.”
Outside, his bike waits in the cool December air. This time when he hands me the helmet, it feels different. The first time I rode with him, it was to the hospital when Rose was born, right after we almost had sex on one of the tables. I spent the whole time berating myself for letting things go that far. But this time… this time I’m... what? His to protect? His to claim? Hiswoman?
“You remember how this works,” he says, and it’s not really a question.
I nod, shrugging into the big leather jacket he drops over my shoulders and settling in behind him. But this time when I wrap my arms around his waist, he covers my hands with one of his, squeezing gently.
“That’s my angel,” he murmurs, and the words send heat through me despite the cold.
The ride is different too. He takes the long way, and I know he’s checking for tails, making sure Gabriel isn’t following. But it also feels like he’s showing me something—that I’m with him now, that the whole town can see me on the back of his bike, wearing his leather, my arms wrapped around him like I belong there.
Because maybe I do.
When we pull into the clubhouse, the others pull up beside us, several engines cutting as he helps me off, hands lingering on my waist.
“You’re staying here tonight.”
“I don’t have clothes, or?—”
“We’ll figure it out.” His thumb strokes my hip. “But you’re not going back to that apartment. I don’t care how badass Mrs. Yu is with her baseball bat.”
I want to protest, but the idea of walking into that empty apartment, knowing Gabriel could show up there, makes my skin crawl. I look up at Cash, and all of my willful defiance drops. “OK.”
Inside, Cash leads me to his room without explanation, like it was never a question where I’d stay.
“Take the bed,” he says, already grabbing a pillow for himself. “I’ll take the couch.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I do,” he says. “First rule of protection detail: keep you safe. Even from bikers with pretty faces and great hair who can’t be trusted to keep their hands to themselves.”
