Page 9 of A Biker for Noelle
My dad’s death left a gaping void in our lives, but I live each day trying my damndest to honor his memory and safeguard the club that was his lifeblood. There are moments when the weight of my responsibilities and the lingering guilt of not being able to save him become almost suffocating.
While my mother is still with us, she’s never been the same since losing him. It feels as though a part of her soul was laid to rest alongside the love of her life when we lowered his casket into the cold, unforgiving ground.
Before I can dwell on the past any longer, a sharp knock on my door pulls me from my thoughts. I groan as I roll over and glance at the clock. It’s early morning, hours before sunrise, and I had hoped to catch a few hours of much-needed sleep, but it doesn’t look like that will happen.
“What?” I call out, my voice rough with annoyance.
“We have a situation,” Wire, our enforcer’s voice comes from the other side of the door. “We got an alert from the security system at the bar. There is a vehicle parked behind the building near the storage unit.”
A rush of adrenaline shoots through me as I sit up, suddenly wide awake. I quickly throw on a couple of layers of clothing, slip on thick socks, and step into my boots before strapping my gun to my hip, followed by my leather cut As I make my way to the door, I hear the muffled sounds of the other club members roused and ready to ride as well. I fling open the door, and Wire is standing there waiting. “Camera catch anyone lingerin’ about?”
“Negative.” He falls in behind me as I head down the stairs. “Whoever is in the vehicle is still in there.”
With my keys in hand, I open the front door. Outside, the cold night air hits me like a slap in the face, causing me to shiver despite the layers of clothing I’m wearing. My other brothers are already mounting their motorcycles, engines rumbling to life as I make my way to my ride.
I swing a leg over my bike and instantly regret not driving the truck from my house to the clubhouse today.
I rev my engine, the sound cutting through the cold, crisp air, and take the lead as we pull away from the clubhouse and onto the road. We fall into formation, our faces obscured by protective clothing and our bodies bundled up against the biting wind, trying to prevent winter from seeping into our bones.
The night air fills with the roar of our engines and the howling of the wind as we ride through the deserted streets of our small sleeping town.
The ride to the bar is quick. As we approach the building, our senses are on high alert.
We cut our engines, dismount our bikes, and cautiously approach the back of the building, our footsteps muffled by the crunching of gravel beneath our boots as we round the corner.
There, parked beside the storage building, is a beat-up car. Its windows are fogged up from the inside, obscuring our view of the trespasser inside as the engine continues idling.
We draw our weapons and surround the car.
As I reach the car, I rub my hand against the driver-side windshield, wiping away fog and condensation. When I peer inside through an unfogged section of the glass, my anger quickly turns to confusion. There, in the driver’s seat, wrapped up in only that thin piece of shit coat she had on earlier, is Noelle, the woman who walked into my life just hours earlier.
“The fuck?” I hiss, and a surge of protectiveness washes over me as I stare at Noelle.
She looks up, and her eyes widen, startled to see me staring back at her. Her gaze shifts to the gun in my hand, and I instantly put it away. I tap the frosty glass and wait for Noelle to roll it down. Her eyes stay fixed on me as she hesitates.
“Open the fuckin’ window,” I bark, causing Noelle to jerk. She narrows her eyes and then complies.
“Um, listen, I can explain.” She’s putting on a brave front, but the look in her eyes tells me she’s scared shitless. She’s wary and has every right to be.
Movement in the backseat catches everyone’s attention, and Wire shines a light into the car.
“Noelle.” A young man’s head pops out beneath a blanket, and I count the bruises on his face. Anger boils in my gut. His battered face doesn’t go unnoticed by the other men. Instantly my temper amplifies tenfold, and it takes all I have to keep my shit under wraps.
“It’s okay, buddy,” Noelle says, her eyes never leaving mine.
The boy shuffles forward and places a protective hand on Noelle’s shoulder. “I won’t let you hurt my sister.”
Sister?
The kid can’t be more than eight years old, but by his demeanor and protectiveness over his sister, he’s had to grow up quicker than any young man should.
My men and I share a look, and we all think the same thing—Noelle and her brother are in trouble. And I intend to find out what that is. I look between him and Noelle. She has a whole-ass kid brother she neglected to mention. I shift my focus from Noelle to the young man. He needs to understand that I am no threat. “What’s your name, kid?”
He squares his shoulders. “Zack.”
“How old are you, Zack?”
“Eight.”
