Page 27 of Warrior

“Yeah.” I show him by moving my feet. “It's not as painful anymore.”

He eases up a little on his grip, now that he’s satisfied I won’t fall over. Once again, they communicate above my head with their eyes and a few hand gestures. Pretty soon Colt is pushing my body behind his and leading me through the chaos that is my downstairs living room, while Bullet walks behind us. I pretend not to see the guns they each hold in their hands, while they also pretend not to see the tears tracking down my cheeks.

My house is destroyed. Glass and knickknacks that I had positioned in cute book cases are smashed on the floor. My shelves are dumped over or half-hanging off the walls. My couch is shredded, something that was done with the knife he had grabbed when I heard him in my kitchen. Thankfully, I had been upstairs at the time and was able to shimmy my way down the hidden laundry chute. A little emergency plan that Daggerz had suggested I have when I told him that my stalker’s antics were amping up despite the restraining order. That was a few months ago and I’m glad I had listened to him.

“Don’t look,” Colt advises me as we reach the patio door. I wish I could listen. I wish that my curiosity didn't always get the best of me. Unfortunately, my eyes follow where he glanced to, right at the wall between my kitchen and living room. Spaghetti sauce is splashed against the wall with a little message carved into the sheetrock.

EVIL WILL BE PUNISHED.

“Shit,” I whisper to myself, but Colt still hears me. His hand squeezes mine, but then he’s pulling me out of the door and we’re moving along the side of my house, sticking to the shadows. My feet hurry to keep up until we reach the back of my neighbor’s home where another figure is lurking in the dark. I open my mouth to scream when I hear him whistle. Bullet, behind me, answers. They aren’t loud, but I can tell this is a practiced thing for them.

We come to a stop in front of the new man, whose patch I instantly see reads Squirrel. That has to be one of the more bizarre road names I’ve heard.

“Taylor?” My last name is a gasp from his lips and my head instantly snaps up.

This night just keeps getting more interesting as my past and present collide. My first love and one of my oldest friends, and we’re meeting again while I need protection from their club.

“We can chat later,” Colt interrupts my brain melt and the awkwardness that’s brewing in the air. “We need to get back. You called it in?”

“Jester was putting some of his guys on it, since the local PD doesn’t seem to care so much.” Zane folds his arms across his chest, his eyes watching me closely.

I can read about a dozen different questions in that gaze, but I refuse to hash it out here and now or with either of these two. It's been ten years. I don’t trust either of them more than is necessary to get me out of this town and into the refuge-like walls of the Rebels of the Undead. I keep silent and let them sit on the information. I’m not sharing anything about my life. When I can see their president, then I’ll talk more to him.

Sirens sound in the distance and it pulls us all out of the silence we’ve fallen into. “We should hurry,” I manage to mumble, and Colt immediately reacts.

My hand still in his, he leads us to three bikes parked down the road, obscured by an overgrown tree and out of the streetlights. I never even heard them approach my house. Colt gets on his bike, swinging one powerful leg over the side. His jeans hug muscle on his thighs while he strains to hold the bike still and support us both. I hate that I notice, and I hate how tingly it makes me feel. Even in the shadows, I can see that Colt has changed since I knew him in high school. I don’t know how I feel about it.

“Just swing your leg over,” he mutters, while holding my forearm so I can balance.

Somehow I manage to get my shaking leg over to the other side so I’m straddling his bike. With the crowded position, my legs are forced to hug against his, my front plastered against his back.

“Here.” Colt reaches back again and places a heavy leather jacket over my shoulders. I quickly put my arms inside of the warm material and gather it around my frame. Colt reaches behind me, and when I turn my head, his torso brushes against my cheek. God he smells good. I involuntarily shudder from how near to me he is. “For you,” he mutters while placing a black helmet on my head.

I hold still while he does the strap. “Don’t you need it?”

Our eyes connect and he shrugs. “You’re more important.”

I open my mouth to argue, to tell him not to say things like that about me, but the words get lost when the bike beneath me rumbles to life. The other two make the same noise and I start to realize that this is it. I’m really doing this. I’m riding a motorcycle and I’m being whisked away to safety. Numbly, my fingers grip Colt’s sides, twisting into the fabric of the thermal shirt he’s wearing.

“Easy, tiger. I know you probably want to claw my face off, but let's at least wait until we’re safe,” Colt chuckles, the sound deep and throaty, while he peels my death grip from his sides and winds my arms around his waist instead. “This will be easier for me to drive.”

I can’t speak, my thoughts are all jumbled and the adrenaline I’d been riding high on is starting to tamp down. I nod my head instead, hoping he can feel the gesture against his back. He doesn’t reply or acknowledge. Instead, he kicks up the kickstand and pulls away from the curb. My stomach experiences a second of butterflies from the gliding motion as we start to soar. I scoot farther up in my seat and hold on tighter, keeping my face turned to the side. Eventually my body becomes fluid with the motion and the ride isn’t uncomfortable. With the wind and the noise from the engine, there is no way for us to talk to each other and I’m okay with that. I don’t know what to say. I may have thought about what I’d say to Colt Street if I ever saw him again, but that was years ago. I’m no longer that girl from high school that he left behind. My past and demons are catching up to me. This life might as well be a thousand lifetimes apart from the time when we were two young kids falling in love.

We roll through the small town of Braham, a short forty minutes later. I’ve always liked this town; it is small enough to be comfortable in but also has a big town appeal. It reminded me of my own hometown when I chose to work and live in the city nextto it. I’m surprised Colt would want to stay in a town like this after he left our hometown the way he did. There is still a slight pinch of pain in my heart when I think about it, but I ignore it.

Soon, we’re pulling into the somewhat familiar compound of the MC. Most of my interactions with the president’s daughter took place at their family home with his wife, who I absolutely admire. What they were all going through was not easy, but they pulled together as a family. I was only at the clubhouse a few times, one of those as a celebratory family day. That was when Austin and Jocelyn pledged the club’s help to me should I ever need them.

Colt parks his bike with an expertise that suggests he’s been riding for a while. I still wonder when he became part of the club. If he had been here four years ago, I would have known. Unless he left for a job when he knew I was coming last time. I’m sure that he seemed just as surprised to see me tonight as I was to see him though, so I don’t think that’s it. Once the bike is stable, Colt hops off and then reaches out to hold my arm while I slide off. Once again, my legs feel like they want to give out, but I force myself to stand straight. I don’t want to lean on Colt any more than I have already.

Keeping my eyes averted from his probing stare, I watch as Bullet saunters over and hands me my bag.

“Here ya go, Doc.”

I smile. “Thanks, Bullet.”

He nods and heads on inside, holding the door open for us. Zane glances from me to Colt and then to me again. When he realizes I don’t plan on talking to him, he walks in next. I follow after him, not wanting to be left alone with Colt.

The usual party isn’t going on inside. A few members are playing pool and a few are gathered around the bar. They all turn toward us when we walk in, and instantly, I’m being swept up in hugs from the various brothers I met years ago, before beingdeposited at the bar. Zane and Colt stand close to me again, and I do my best to ignore them. Ari is behind the bar and I almost forget that it's been four years since I’ve seen her. She was a teenager then but has to be in her twenties now. She gives me a small smile, although it looks forced. Then her eyes shift to the two men next to me and it sinks in.

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