Page 63 of 12 Months of Mayhem

I was about to add a few hot dogs to the rollers when the low, throaty rumble of motorcycles echoed up to the pumps. I looked up just as two bikes pulled up to pumps two and three. Two Harleys whose engines growled before they cut off. The riders dismounted and moved with a casual confidence that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Oh shit,” Diamond moaned.

I turned my eyes to the security camera monitor and focused on pump three. “Son of a bitch.” The screen on the pump was flashing red.

“We really need to bite the bullet and have the tech come out to look at that pump,” Diamond sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

I pulled my hood up. “I don’t even want to think about how much that’s going to cost.”

Diamond rolled her eyes as she moved behind the counter and leaned against it with a resigned slump. “Whatever it is, it’ll be worth it. I’m calling in the morning.”

“Fine,” I muttered. I knew she was right but still hated the idea of shelling out the money to fix it.

“Be careful,” Diamond called as I made my way to the door.

I stepped outside, and the cool evening air brushed against my face. The two bikers by the pumps were out of place in Henderson. They wore black leather jackets that fit them perfectly and molded to their muscular bodies. On the back of each jacket was a massive eagle with its wings spread wide and fierce, with the words Brazen Kings stitched in bold letters.

Both men were tall, built solid, and exuded an air of danger that was both alluring and unnerving. The one at pump three turned his head just slightly as I approached. His eyes locked on me with an intensity that almost made me stop in my tracks.

Piercing green eyes. They were startling and vibrant against his tanned skin and the dark scruff along his jaw. I felt my breath hitch for a split second, and heat rushed to my cheeks.

“Uh,” I stammered a few feet from him. “I need to reset it.” My voice came out steadier than I expected, but his gaze didn’t waver. He watched me as his eyes traced my movements while I closed the gap between us.

Talk about unnerving.

I tried to keep my focus, but I could feel his eyes on me the entire time. He didn’t say a word and just stood there like a statue. As I got closer, he took a step back but barely enough to give me room. I had to squeeze in, and my shoulder almost brushed against him.

“This pump always gives us a hard time,” I rambled as my voice came out a bit too fast. “I think it just likes attention.”

He didn’t respond, but his lips twitched—just a hint of a smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. I glanced at the other biker at pump two. Thankfully, he was busy inserting his card and focused on the machine instead of me.

I took a deep breath and glanced up at the man next to me. I had to tip my head back just to see his face; he was that tall. A black patch was sewn onto his chest, and the name Tank was embroidered in bold white letters. I’d watched Sons of Anarchy enough times to know that was probably his road name.

It was fitting.

He was massive—muscular and broad, built like a wall of solid muscle. His biceps strained against the sleeves of his jacket, and his shoulders were so wide I was sure he could block out the sun if he stood in the right spot.

Intimidating? Absolutely. But there was something oddly comforting about his presence, too. Like no one would dare mess with me as long as he was around. I could see the roughness in his features—the strong jawline, the faint scar above his left eyebrow, and the perpetual five o’clock shadow that made him look just the right amount of dangerous.

He was handsome, no doubt about it, but in that bad boy way that made my heart race and my common sense scream warnings in my head.

I focused on the pump and reset it with practiced ease. My fingers moved over the buttons as I forced myself to ignore how close he was standing.

“There,” I said and looked up at him. “Should be good to go.”

His eyes flicked down to meet mine. He didn’t say thank you, but his head dipped in a slight nod. He was a man of no words.

I took a step back, ready to put some distance between us, but his voice stopped me. It was low and rough like gravel shifting under tires. “This place always this dead?”

I blinked and was momentarily surprised that he spoke. “Uh, yeah. Most nights, anyway.”

He glanced around the empty parking lot, then back at me. “Here by yourself?”

That was a bit of a creepy question. “Um, no.”

He nodded. “Good.”

“Uh, yeah.” Why was that good?

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