Page 52 of Spinner's Luck

“A word?”

Ashlynn’s voice stopped me cold.

I turned slowly, meeting her narrowed eyes. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a tight, almost forced smile tugging at her lips.

“Something on your mind?” I asked, keeping my voice light but wary.

She stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply against the floor. It was deliberate, like she wanted every step to land with purpose. I was starting to think she wore those damn heels just for that effect.

“I think we both know what this is about,” she said, her tone cutting.

“Do we?” I arched a brow, standing my ground.

Her smile faltered, hardening into something sharper. “Spinner.”

There it was.

“What about him?” I asked, tilting my head slightly, keeping my tone calm and disinterested.

Her eyes narrowed further, and she took another step closer. Her presence filled the hall like a shadow that wouldn’t let go. “You need to back off,” she said, her voice low and biting. “Spinner’s not going to keep you. Not when there are better choices danglin’ in front of him. Take my advice and leave before he gets tired of you.”

I let her words hang in the air, studying her. There was something in her eyes—raw, almost desperate—but I wasn’t about to let her rattle me.

“Better choices?” I repeated, crossing my arms. “Tired of me? Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion on my relationship with Spinner.”

Her jaw tightened, and she let out a short, bitter laugh. “Relationship? Is that what you’re callin’ it?”

I shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. Doesn’t change the fact that it’s none of your business.”

Her voice rose, sharp with frustration. “Itismy business. Spinner’s a good man. Better than you deserve. He needs a beautiful woman who understands him.”

Her words pissed me off, but I kept my face neutral, letting the anger simmer beneath the surface. I stepped closer, narrowing the space between us until I could see the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

“You don’t know a damn thing about me,” I said, my voice steady and cold. “And you sure as hell don’t get to decide what Spinner deserves.”

She opened her mouth to argue, but I cut her off.

“If you give a damn about him, maybe try being his friend instead of acting like you’ve got a claim on him,” I said, my voice calm and unflinching. “And let me make one thing crystal clear, Ashlynn, you don’t scare me. If you think I’m backing off because you can’t stand the idea of Spinner caring about someone whoisn’t you... you’re dead wrong.”

Her face darkened, color creeping up her neck as her lips flattened into a stubborn line. For a second, I swore she was ready to swing—hands twitching like she was itching for a fight—but instead, she pulled back, anger rolling off her like a gathering storm barely held at bay. Her expression shifted, hardening into something cold and calculated, the kind of look that said she was already plotting her next move.

“This isn’t over,” she hissed, voice low and quivering with barely contained emotion.

“Maybe not,” I replied, my tone calm, despite how pissed I was right now. “But if you actually give a damn about Spinner, think twice before you light a match you can’t put out.”

She didn’t respond. She just turned on her heel and walked away, her steps quick and sharp, the sound echoing down the hall.

I stood there for a moment, my heart pounding harder than I wanted to admit. The tension lingered in the air like smoke, but I pushed it aside.

Spinner’s face flashed in my mind—the way his eyes softened when he looked at me, the quiet strength he carried like a shield.

Whatever Ashlynn thought, whatever game she was playing, it didn’t change one thing: Spinner wasn’t hers to protect.

And I wasn’t going anywhere. Not as long as he gave me a reason to stay.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

THE NIGHT WASthick with silence, the kind that madeyour skin itch. The narrow road stretched ahead, swallowed by trees that blocked out what little moonlight managed to cut through the clouds. We killed the engines, the sudden absence of our bikes’ growl making the air feel heavier. The only sounds left were the rustling leaves and the distant rumble of motorcycles closing in.

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