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Trax flinched and released a soft curse. “No, Chey, I swear. Even if I asked them to, which I wouldn’t have, they never would have hurt her, I promise ya. I get the persona that comes with the club, and I was an asshole, but we don’t hurt women.” He dragged his hand over his face. “Caught a lot shit for pulling that stunt. I deserved it. It was fucked up.”
There was no denying his sincerity. Given a better understanding of why he’d done what he’d done, Cheyenne could bring herself to forgive him. A strange part of her desperately wanted to forgive him.
“Look, I only saw him for a few seconds.” It was a cop out. She could have given him the details, but she kept her mouth shut. After opening the envelope, she’d realized the situation was well beyond a routine car accident. She didn’t want to be involved any more than she already was, which was too much.
She sighed. “I was scared. I don’t have an entire club backing me, Trax. It’s just me, and if this guy finds out who I am, then what?”
“I get it.” He nodded.
“Do you?”
“Yeah, but here’s what you don’t get. Wouldn’t let ya get hurt. What you did for Mick, the least I can do is keep you safe.”
She snorted at the irony of his statement. “Newsflash, Trax, I got hurt. The favor, remember?” She intended it as a joke, but he obviously found no humor with it.
His face tightened, and his jaw locked. “I remember.” His gaze scanned her face, mainly her right side where the bruises were still visible. She shifted her feet, feeling oddly exposed under his stare. His gaze hardened, and there was a glimmer of something harsh. Regret maybe? She sucked in a breath when she recognized the look of guilt. Shit! It wasn’t his fault his guys fucked up, and he did fulfill his promise of keeping her safe, eventually.
This whole situation was screwed up, and she was set to be done with it.
“Look.” She licked her lips. “You got what ya needed. I don’t have anything else to share, I swear. But if I think of anything else, I’ll reach out, okay?”
He stared back at her, giving her no indication of what he was thinking. Why wouldn’t he just leave? She sighed and walked toward him, giving a large berth between them. Right now, all she needed was to go back to the apartment, lock her doors, and rid her mind of everything about Trax and his club. It was the sensible decision. He was the last person she should get tangled up with, even if the thought of being with him had her breath hitching. No, tell him to fuck off and walk away. She bit her lip, unable to move. She didn’t want to. Why couldn’t she just leave? If he were a simple man, it would be easy. Trax seemed to have too many sides to him. One minute, he was aggressive and threatening. A side she could rationally walk away from. However, when he was gentle and kind, she felt her own resistance. God, be a total dick or a good guy, not somewhere in between.
He moved forward but didn’t touch her. “Take a ride with me?”
She jerked her head. He couldn’t possibly think she’d go anywhere with him. Could he? “No way.” She continued to the steps, feeling his presence close behind her.
“There’s a view over in Eagle Hill I wanna show you. Come on.” He started off through the lot. She halted, realizing he expected her to follow him.
“I just said no, Trax.”
He glanced over his shoulder and smirked. “You wanna see it, babe, trust me. Come on. Gotta get there before the sun sets.”
She channeled her inner four-year-old and stomped her foot. “I said I’m not going.”
He smiled. Damn his smile. This guy was almost too sexy to resist. Almost. She wasn’t going anywhere with him. She folded her arms, taking her strong stance. She would not cave just because a hot biker wanted to take her on a ride on his motorcycle. Such a cliché. Let some other twit be enamored by him and his friggin’ leather. It wasn’t going to be her.
“But you want to. Trying to think of a million reasons not to, but deep down, you wanna come with me.”
Come with me. Those three words meant more than one thing, and she knew it. He’d probably said it to a dozen girls, and they’d all fallen for it. He was a beautiful man. Take away the harsh leather and the brooding scowl, which only added to his sexiness, and she was left with dark eyes, a square jaw, and cheekbones to rival any cover model. Damn.
She shook her head but remained quiet. She didn’t trust herself if she opened her mouth. His lips pursed together in a tight smile as if he knew what she was thinking. He raised his brows, and she got the sense he was amused. Trax shoved his hands into his jean pockets and stretched his neck, taking a deep breath before making his way to her. This time she didn’t back away.
“Wanna tell me why?”
She stared at him. “Are you seriously asking me that?” She mimicked his stance of shoulders back and hands in pockets. His gaze trailed down her body to her waist, and the corner of his mouth curved.
“I said I was sorry, Chey.” He sounded so sincere with his light tone. It’s a trap, don’t fall for it.
“Sorry doesn’t cancel out everything. You threatened me and Macy last night, not to mention you manhandled me.”
“Did I hurt you?”
“Well, no but…”
He stepped closer, leaving a foot-length gap between them. “I was pissed, I’ll admit it, but even with a heart full of rage, I’d never hurt you. I knew exactly how tight my hold was, enough to scare you but not to hurt you.”
She raised her brows. “So scaring me is okay?”
