Page 20 of Heartbeats & Highways

“I heard the gunshots too, but I thought you were out working a fight.”

“I was. But then . . .” I quickly explained what happened with Savage and me getting fired.

“That’s . . . a lot to take in.”

“Yeah.” I looked at Savage again. “I don’t think he’ll hurt me.”

“Oh, he won’t hurt you. Not the way you think he will.”

I frowned when I looked at her. “What does that mean?”

“It means—he’s a biker. And a fighter. He lives by different rules than normal people.”

“Yeah. I’m gathering that.”

She hugged me to her. “I hope you find peace, Evie. From whatever it is you’re running from.”

I moved away from the woman who’d given me a brief respite from a cruel world. “If it turns out to be a bad decision . . .”

“You’ll always have a room here.”

I smiled at her in gratitude.

As I stepped outside into the cool air, I lifted the collar of my jacket. Savage was leaning against his motorcycle, sunglasses shielding his eyes. “Ready?”

“I think so.”

My bag full of meager belongings was already strapped to his motorcycle behind a very tiny seat over the rear wheel well.

We climbed onto his bike and drove away from the motel. When Savage pulled into a parking lot and cut the engine, I released my hold on him and removed the helmet. I swung my leg over the bike and Savage followed suit.

He then unstrapped my bag from the rear fender. When I made a move to take it from him, he held it out of my reach. “Let me carry it for you.”

I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets and nodded.

“You want to see the apartment?”

I nodded again and followed him toward the red brick structure. “The building is newly renovated. Gave us a bitch of a time. Turned out it had mold and water damage. But with Logan’s help and a good chunk of cash, we got it sorted.”

He punched in a code and the door to the building unlocked. He opened the front door and gestured for me to go inside first. I looked around the foyer. “Who’s Logan?”

“Smoke’s Old Lady,” he explained. “She has her own interior design business. The club asked for her help designing and decorating the apartments. Even though this place is for short-term stays, we didn’t want the apartments to feel that way. They still need to feel like homes, you know?”

We climbed the stairs to the top floor, passed three apartments, and arrived at the end of the hallway.

“This is the only unoccupied apartment right now. I hope it’s okay.”

“More than okay,” I assured him. “Wait, if these apartments are only for short-term stays, who lives in the building?”

“Women that Doc has offered help to.”

I frowned. “Doc?”

“Boxer’s Old Lady,” he said with a grin. “She runs the Waco Health & Wellness Clinic.”

“Oh.” I paused.

“So, this is the place.”

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