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I found myself responding with equal fervor, drawn into the vortex of desire that Riptide commanded. The kiss was like a big “screw you” to everything going on around us. No matter what, we couldn’t ignore this connection between us.
We finally broke apart, panting from the aftermath of our surrender.
“It’s dangerous,” I managed to say, my voice ragged. “This game we’re playing.”
Riptide’s response was an eyebrow lifted, laced with the promise of more challenges to come. “Since when have we ever played it safe, Brat?”
Standing there, in the shadow of the warehouse, the reality of our situation pressed in on us from all sides. Yet, at that moment, the risk seemed worth it. Riptide and I were a collision course set in motion, a tempest of wills and desires that refused to be tamed.
Riptide’s grip on my hand was firm as he led me into the warehouse, a silent signal that the night’s drama was far from over. The sudden shift in our dynamic left me momentarily disoriented. One moment we were locked in a passionate confrontation, and the next, we were about to delve further into the enigma that had entangled our clubs.
I found myself teasing, a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood. “What, no mood lighting? I thought you were trying to sweep me off my feet here.”
He shot me a look that was half amusement, half exasperation. “Not exactly the time, Brat. I’ve got a lead that Blade’s been dealing in something he shouldn’t. We’re here to find evidence.”
The warehouse loomed around us like a relic of a forgotten industrial age, its vast, shadowy interior punctuated by the skeletal remains of machinery and scattered debris. Dust and the tang of metal hung in the silence, broken only occasionally by the skitter of unseen creatures that made me jump into Riptide’s arms.
“A bad biker chick like you scared of mice?” he mused as I clung to him.
My face reddened as I admitted my overwhelming irrational fear of rodents of any kind. But I soon got my wits about me, my hand resting on the gun on my hip. “The next time one runs out, I’ll shoot it,” I whispered.
It felt like we were navigating through the belly of some ancient beast, every turn and narrow passageway heightening the sense of unease. After what felt like a lifetime of winding through the maze-like structure, we stumbled upon what Riptide had been hunting for. A stockpile of weapons that seemed out of place amid the decay. The array of firearms and ammunition was vast, underlining the stakes involved. Although Riptide had been tipped off, his features were etched with surprise and concern.
“We have to deliver this news to the clubs,” he muttered, already turning to leave, when a sudden flash of light pierced the gloom, startling us both. The urgency to escape became immediate, an instinctive need to avoid whoever, or whatever, had illuminated our discovery.
Running through the warehouse, adrenaline surged, but my body protested, pain flaring from the injuries sustained in the wreck. Keeping up with Riptide’s determined pace was a struggle, each step sending jolts of discomfort through me.
He glanced back, noticing my lagging pace, and without hesitation, scooped me up in his arms. It was a clear sign of his strength and my current weakness, which is not something I’m used to or totally cool with. Yet, there was no time for pride. The sound of approaching footsteps lent wings to our flight.
Riptide navigated the remainder of the escape route with a speed and agility that left me breathless, his focus unwavering. Reaching his motorcycle, he set me down with a gentleness that belied the urgency of our situation, firing up the engine before I could fully register our escape.
As we tore away from the warehouse, the wind whipping around us, a part of me marveled at the night’s turn of events. From the intensity of our confrontation to the unexpected raid and our narrow escape, it felt like we’d lived a lifetime in a matter of hours.
Riptide’s determination to protect me, to carry me through danger when I couldn’t on my own, added another layer to the complex emotions I harbored for him. Our situation was fraught with peril, a delicate balance of club loyalty, personal feelings, and the looming threat that bound us together. Yet, as we sped into the night, leaving the warehouse and its secrets behind, I couldn’t shake the feeling that together, we might just be unstoppable.
Back in Riptide’s apartment, the unease of waiting churned within me while he led Church, his club’s meeting. I paced the length of his living room, my thoughts all over the place. I should’ve borrowed a bike from one of my sisters, I chastised myself. Now, here I was again, in what felt like the Lion’s Den, certain that Riptide expected the night to unfold as intimately as it had that morning.
When the biker president finally returned, the look on his face was grim. “Blade’s long gone,” he announced, the significance of his words hanging between us. “Vanished. Possibly dead. And after what we saw him doing with Cowgirl… I don’t think she’s the killer, but… something stinks.”
“I need to tell Rage,” I said, my decision immediate. The implications were too significant to ignore. Our clubs needed to be on high alert.
Riptide nodded, understanding the urgency. “Call her. There’s no time to lose.”
Retreating to another room for privacy, I dialed Rage, relaying everything we had discovered. She was both concerned and ready to take charge, quickly making a plan to deal with the new threat.
Rejoining Riptide, I found him shirtless, revealing the intricate tattoos that mapped his commitment and experiences. His presence brought back all the feels and reminded me how complicated things were.
“Now that you’ve taken care of that, you should stay the night,” he suggested, a hint of something undefinable in his tone.
The proposal left me torn. “Is that a good idea?” I questioned, even as part of me longed to stay, to delve deeper into whatever was unfolding between us.
“It’s not safe for you to go back alone,” he pressed, his concern evident. “Someone knew we were at that warehouse. And if Cowgirl’s involved, who knows what you’re walking back into at the Roost? Plus, there’s some other man involved who I know nothing about yet. That worries me even more.”
“But I should be fine,” I tried.
“How can you be so sure? Blade’s the brother who convinced my boys to frame you for Viper’s murder.”
This revelation was news to me. “When did you find that out?”
