Page 16 of Ex-Military Biker’s Bride

“Birthday gift from Savage. Probably stolen… it's got too many buttons.” He kisses my forehead. “And don’t.”

“Don't what?”

“Whatever you're about to say sorry for. My job, or the MC. I’m not sorry, sweetheart.”

Then he's gone, the engine of the truck roaring as he pulls out onto the strip road.

I lie in his bed in his shirt and watch as the sun spreads shards of golden light across the room. The order of Lucky’s room makes me feel peaceful for once; everything’s in its place. But it’s something more than peace; I'm happy.

It takes me a while to work out that's what this feeling is.

He's gone for hours. I watch something mindless on his television, keeping my ankle iced. It’s much better today and I experiment with putting some weight on it. If I’m gentle, it’s fine.

I manage to make myself a coffee from the machine on the third attempt. Then I open my laptop and send my contact an email.

It goes through a route that can’t be traced back.

Are you all right? Answer with the weather.

Nothing comes back.

I check every hour. To stop myself checking more often, I clean a kitchen that's already spotlessly clean. Even his cleaning supplies are color-coordinated. He has a great music collection with old vinyl, and I play some upbeat records to keep myself distracted.

The reply comes back at three.

Fine. Beautiful day. When can we meet?

Something's wrong. The source has never asked to meet me before. My heart thuds in my ears. She must be frightened. She’s been up there with no one who knows what she’s really doing.

Lucky returns late afternoon and leans against the door, running his hands through his hair.

His MC wants the archive; the recordings, the ledger and the list of the names I’ve collected. He says if Rotmere finds out we risk burning everything we’ve both worked on to the ground. They could move the women and start the whole operation again somewhere else.

He says Doc, the VP of the club, needs a few weeks. Nobody is allowed to move before then.

“Are they suspicious of me?”

“Yes. I’m sorry.” He blinks, looking away from me. I can’t imagine that it was easy.

“What did Prez say?”

“He said I'd better hope you're who and what you say you are.” He pushes off the door. “That's the polite version.”

I get up off the stool. My ankle throbs a little but I can put my weight down on it.

“So what should I do?”

“You need to stay here.” He says it easily, like it's already arranged and I’ve agreed. “We don’t know whether or not they know you’re involved. One of the prospects will sit on these stairs from tonight, you’ll be safe. No going into town alone and your phone stays off unless Bethany's got eyes on it. You need to move, you call me and I come and get you.”

“That's a lot, Lucky.”

“It's a lot of people who want you safe.”

Heat crawls up my neck. “I've had four months where nobody on earth knew what the hell I was doing. I can take care of myself, okay?”

“How'd that work out on the mountain?”

I wince. “That's not fair.”