Page 8 of Xavier

From the front seat, Tiny cleared his throat. “Hate to break up this touching moment, but we’ve got company.”

Xavier’s body tensed beneath me, his arms tightening protectively. “How many?”

“Two bikes, about a quarter mile back. Been following us since we hit the highway.”

“Venus and Piston?”

There was a pause before Tiny answered. “Unless there’s another pink monstrosity claiming to be a Harley, yeah. It’s Venus and Piston.”

I felt Xavier’s deep chuckle where my front was plastered against his chest. “I’m tellin’ her you said that.”

“I’ll deny it.” Tiny didn’t sound angry or annoyed, in fact, they both sounded amused.

I heard the loud rumble and moved my head to look out the window. Sure enough, a bright pink motorcycle eased beside us. The rider was the most remarkable woman I’d ever seen. She was slight of build but with finely muscled arms left bare by the vest she was wearing. It matched the color of her bike. As did her leather pants, and her motorcycle boots. And her hair. The woman gave us a two-finger salute before easing back to join another bike behind us.

I couldn’t help but stare as the pink-haired warrior woman fell back behind us. Her companion was almost her opposite. He was big, with wide shoulders and heavily muscled arms. He wore a short-sleeved black shirt under his vest while his bike was black and chrome that gleamed even in the dim highway lights.

“That’s Venus,” Xavier explained, his breath warm against my ear. “Don’t let the pink fool you. She’s the deadliest fighter in her club. I’ve heard she was once an assassin, but I can’t confirm the rumor.”

“And she likes pink,” I murmured, still watching the rearview mirror where I could occasionally catch glimpses of them. It seemed like an inane thing to say, but that’s what came out when I opened my mouth.

Xavier laughed, a deep rumble that vibrated through me. “Yeah, baby. She likes pink.”

“Actually,” Tiny interrupted. “I heard the coloring had something to do with some kind of spy tech in the form of contact lenses or some shit. Apparently, they don’t come in anything but pink, and she was trying to blend in.”

That got a startled laugh from me. Xavier joined me with a warm chuckle. “I don’t even know why that was funny. She reminds me of an anime heroine or something.”

“The guy with her is Piston,” Tiny added from the front seat. “Ain’t exactly sure what he does, but he protects Venus like a rabid guard dog.”

“I thought she was an assassin.” I turned and saw Tiny’s mischievous grin in the rearview mirror.

“Oh, she is. Piston’s just overprotective. Doesn’t mind her gettin’ in fights. In fact, sometimes Venus is the one to pick the fight. Piston just wants everyone to know he has her back. That way, they’ll think twice about trying to ambush her.”

I turned to Xavier. His smile was soft, and he stroked my cheek lightly with his thumb. “Is she part of your club?”

“No.” Xavier took up the explanation. “But she and Piston represent a coalition of motorcycle clubs. They all operate independently but help each other out if necessary. We aren’t part of them, but our former president used to be vice president of a club in their coalition.”

I nodded, taking it all in. These people, these dangerous, capable people, were here because of me? Because Xavier had asked them to be? The realization was both humbling and overwhelming.

“You okay?” Xavier asked softly, his fingers gently kneading my tight muscles.

“Just processing,” I admitted. “It’s a lot.”

“I know.” He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Just know you’re safe. Everything else will take care of itself.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” I whispered with a smile, laying my head against his chest.

The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was comforting, proof I wasn’t alone anymore, that someone was in my corner. Outside the window, the night scenery blurred by, lights from passing cars occasionally illuminating the interior. My muscles were now the consistency of goo in the warmth of Xavier’s embrace. This was where I wanted to stay.

It was strange how quickly my life had changed. This morning I’d been grocery shopping, planning another quiet weekend with my Saturday visit to Xavier. Now I was speeding down a highway with him, flanked by motorcycles, running from threats I didn’t understand.

“You should try to get some sleep,” Xavier murmured against my hair. “We’ve got a long drive ahead. You want to lay your head on the seat? You can put your feet in my lap.”

“I don’t want to move. Feels too good.” My eyelids felt impossibly heavy. The adrenaline crash was hitting me hard.

“How about you just close your eyes for a bit,” he coaxed. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”

I wanted to protest, to stay alert, but the rhythmic motion of the truck and Xavier’s steady heartbeat were lulling me into a drowsy, contented lethargy.

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