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“Carl!” I heard the driver yell; he was wearing a wolf mask as well.
The man, Carl I guess, looked up and locked eyes with me.
“Don’t you dare!” I shouted, placing my left boot on the front tire of Callie’s rig, and then vaulted up onto the hood. The lighter fluid made the surface slick and I nearly slid right off, but I gripped the opening near the windshield right at the last second.
“You fucking crazy?” the man screeched, the Zippo still open in his palm.
The rumble of engines echoed from down the street, indicating motorcycles were approaching.
The driver leaned his head out of the window. “Carl, get in the car now! Leave it, you’re not about to light some random pedestrian on fire!”
Carl seemed to shake himself out of it; the Zippo dropped to the ground and then he dove into the back seat before the car took off down the road.
I was covered in lighter fluid, and my hand was nearly cramped from how hard I had gripped the edge of the hood, somehow my knee felt tweaked. Finally letting go, I slowly slid off the hood as people began filtering out of the restaurant.
I eyed the Zippo and looked around before taking a Kleenex from my pocket and ducking to grab it.
The woman in the store was right, the Stone Riders didn’t do business with the police, except for the ones on their payroll. Whoever these guys were, they knew who Callie was and what car she drove. This was a direct attack on the club.
“Laura!”
I spun, seeing Callie on the back of Harris’s bike.
Suddenly two more Stone Riders pulled up behind him. I ran toward the closest one, not even knowing who it was. I jumped on the back, and the rider took off down the road. I wrapped my arms around his waist and my head was tucked into his back as we made our way back to the club.
The cold air whipped at my back and my thin sweater. I could see why people wore leather while riding motorcycles. Within minutes of being plastered to the back of the man in front of me, I was shivering. Rain pelted us painfully hard as we hurried through the city and pushed toward the outskirts of Rose Ridge. Trying to hide my face in the leather of the rider, I briefly slipped my eyelids open when I heard the sound of several other engines edging in beside us, there were a dozen more members flanking us. I was still new to the club, but I assumed them gathering like this meant they all must have learned about the attack.
A sudden surge of pride and an odd warm feeling of peace thrummed through me. I knew at that moment that I was safe. For months I had felt like the tag along, a misfit in this club. I kept my head down and worked, earning a paycheck and soaking up the time I spent with my best friend, but the dynamics of the Stone Riders hadn’t really clicked for me. I didn’t really get the appeal for anyone to give up their weekends and pledge their loyalty to a band of like-minded people. Now I understood it.
This feeling of belonging to something bigger, to being a part of a family that would protect you and have your back no matter what. I was proud to be with them, and through this they had earned some of my loyalty in return. I wanted to protect them like they had just protected me.
Suddenly we were tilting to the right and I knew we were making our way to the dirt path leading down to the club. The bikes slowed, but not by much. I held on a little tighter as the gravel under the tires seemed to get a little loose, and then finally, we were slowing enough that I lifted my head.
Killian must have returned from his trip because he was jogging down the stairs in front of the club, fury etched into his face like stone. I swallowed thickly as his gaze landed on me and the rider in front of me. A vein seemed to throb in his forehead, and to protect himself in the pouring rain, he only had on his cut with a Henley underneath. His hair was soaked within seconds, but he didn’t seem to care. He walked as though he couldn’t see anything except for me. Suddenly Giles was in front of him saying something, but Killian pushed him out of the way and continued toward us.
The rider parked, and I scrambled off the back as quickly as possible.
“What the fuck?” Killian’s voice snapped, his glacial glare landing like stone on the rider I’d ridden with.
“It was a safety situation, Prez,” the rider clipped.
I recognized him now. It was Riley, a nice guy I’d flirted with a time or two.
“Thanks Riley.” I patted his shoulder, but Killian had my wrist in his grip a second later and began pulling me away. We were headed to the apartment, even as Giles yelled at his back and Wes leveled us with a severe glare. Wes was holding my best friend to his chest, her head tucked under his chin, as rain pelted them, and the sky seemed to break open.
Meanwhile, Killian ventured up the steps and barged into the apartment, slamming the door behind us. Within a single breath, I was pushed up against the door with his strong arms caging me in. I could hear the rain slamming against the roof and his breathing, but that was it.
His panting was erratic, and his eyes searched as though they were frantically hunting for something. His fingers tangled in my hair a moment later, his gaze following a trail of water down my face.
Between breaths, I wet my lips and muttered, “It was just a ride.”
A sharp laugh broke through his exterior, and that’s when I realized he was shaking.
“I don’t give a fuck about the ride. I care that you’re soaking wet and rode in twenty-degree weather while the rain drenched the roads. I care that you didn’t have a helmet, and when I heard what happened…” He faltered.
Those green eyes were unfocused as he worked to catch his breath, then his hands were on my arms, trailing down to my hands.
“Are you hurt?” He skimmed my stomach, and then as if he was certain there was a gunshot underneath, he pulled my sweater up over my head. “You smell like lighter fluid, tell me why the fuck you smell like lighter fluid.”
