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“C’mon, Prez, we have to go!” a man on a large, dark motorcycle shouts. Priest waves him off.
“Go on. I’ll be right behind you.” To me, he asks, “Which of the girls doesn’t have family to go home to?”
From our time locked in the truck together, I know that I am actually the only one of us who doesn’t have a home or family waiting for me. I gulp, trying to force back the trembling that’s overtaken my body, then answer, “M-me. I, um, don’t have anyone . . .”
Priest looks at me for a beat then over his shoulder at the quickly approaching lights. He curses under his breath, then takes my hand and leads me over to his bike. “I can’t be here when the police arrive, but I can’t leave you on your own either. You can come with me, and we’ll figure out what to do.”
A cry erupts from behind us, and I turn to see the young girl who’d hugged me rip herself away from the other girl and run toward me. “Where are you going? He can’t take you!” she says on a sob when she reaches me, throwing her small arms around my waist.
I grip her shoulders tightly and look back at Priest, who nods, then I turn back to the girl. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I soothe. “The police are coming—the real police, men and women who will protect you and make sure you get home. You’re safe now, I promise.” It’s not a vow I should be making, but something tells me it’s the truth. “I don’t have a family waiting for me. Pr—” I cut myself off, realizing abruptly that he probably doesn’t want any of us to know his name. “This man is going to help me. I’ll be okay.”
The young girl sniffles, but she lets me go and returns to the others, who are huddled close together next to the box truck.
With one last look at them as the lights of the police cars draw closer, I turn and join Priest next to his bike. He helps me put on a helmet, then before he gets on the bike, he slings his leather jacket over my shoulders. It smells strongly of him, the mix of leather and cigarettes oddly comforting. I didn’t realize how cold I am until now.
“Thank you,” I whisper, burrowing deeper into its warmth.
“Where do you want to go?” Priest asks as he helps me settle on the bike behind him. His touch on my arm is warm and reassuring even through the thick material of his jacket.
“Can you take me back twenty-four hours before I came to Austin?” I joke, but really, there is nothing funny about this situation.
“I can take you to a gated compound with more than twenty bikers living there—most of whom are fully armed—and offer you a room where you can sleep without having to worry about your safety.”
Sleep. Comfort. Peace.
They all sound like such foreign concepts, and yet, I crave them more than I do my next breath.
I tug the leather jacket closer, letting his scent calm me before looking up to his face. “Will you be there?” I ask him, my voice breaking as I try to search his eyes in the dark. “Will you stay with me?”
It’s crazy. After everything that’s happened today, perhaps what I need is a room with at least three locks and the dresser pressed against the door . . .
No! What I need is a strong presence to fight off all the demons that threaten to pull me under. I don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.
“I’ll stay with you.”
Chapter Four
Priest
I thought quitting cigarettes was difficult, but getting any sleep in bed with a girl wrapped around me like a damn octopus is impossible.
I’ve been up for hours—and hard for just as long—which makes me feel like the most perverted bastard alive. After everything that’s happened to this girl, the last thing she needs is for the guy she expects to protect her to be sporting a hard on, but . . . I can’t help it.
It’s been a long night.
When we pulled up at the compound, Reaper and Knight were already in the Barn with the three Broken Chains we’d grabbed tonight, and I wanted to join them there and extract information from the men myself, but one look at the bright-eyed girl in my arms, and I knew there would be no leaving her.
Sky refused my offer to take any one of the empty rooms I’d shown her, adamant about staying with me.
Since when do I freaking give in to anyone? I am the president of the Steel Order MC. The man the cops are terrified to approach and whose name is enough to have most people’s blood freezing in their veins, and yet, all it takes to undo me is a pair of blue eyes.
Pathetic.
To think that this is what brings me to my knees is truly ridiculous, but I can’t help it . . . or even hate it.
What I do hate, however, is the fact that all I can do is look at her. I can’t touch her, no more than I am doing right now, or I will be damned for sure.
The girl is nineteen, for fuck’s sake—more than a decade younger than me should be all it takes to discipline my mind and body into behaving, but there’s no convincing my body of that with her perfect one pressed hard against mine, and Christ . . . she’s so soft.
