Page 46 of Sexting the Bikers
The line goes dead.
My blood pounds so loud I almost don’t hear anything else. I stare at Dog, words trapped in my mouth, realization sinking in.
Dog’s eyes are fixed on me, confusion lining his features. “What happened?”
I swallow, my pulse racing as reality settles in. “It’s not Novikov’s men out there. It’s my family,” I say, voice trembling but fierce. “They’re here, Dog.”
He blinks, startled. “What? How did they know you’re here?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. But I need to leave—right now. I have to get to them before?—”
I make for the door, ready to run straight out, but before I can take two steps, Bishop and Reaper appear in the doorway, blocking my exit. They move together, bodies filling the frame, leaving nowhere for me to go.
“Not so quick,” Reaper says, voice calm but firm, gaze locked on mine. “You’re not leaving, not like this.”
Bishop crosses his arms, his stance all cool calculation. “We were just wondering what the holdup was about.” His eyes flick from me to Dog, taking in the situation with that unreadable look of his.
I square my shoulders, desperation threatening to crack through my words. “You have to let me go. You can’t be that greedy. There are lives at stake, not just money.”
Reaper’s gaze stays pinned on me, not giving an inch. “It’s not just about the money,” he says, voice low. “You’re playing us, Katya. And unless you tell me the truth?—”
I cut him off, my voice breaking as I beg, “You don’t want to get involved in this. Please, just let me go. I can fix this before it gets worse. Please.”
Dog shifts at my side, uncertainty written across his face. “We should at least hear her out,” he says, glancing at Bishop and Reaper.
Bishop’s expression is cold, almost weary. “Your cousin left you to die with Novikov, Katya. Do you really trust him now?”
I lift my chin, refusing to let the sting show. “In my world, family and blood mean everything,” I say quietly. “You told me yourself, I’m a liability. This is as good a time as any to get rid of me, isn’t it?”
Bishop opens his mouth to argue, frustration plain on his face, but before he can get the words out, Reaper lets out abreath, steps away from the door, and holds his hand out toward the hallway.
“Okay,” he says. “Fine. You can go.”
The relief that rushes through me is dizzying. I don’t stop to think about what it means, or if it’s a trap. I just nod, gather what’s left of my composure, and move. My heart pounds in my chest as I make for the exit, the weight of all their eyes following me.
I don’t look back.
Not this time.
11
BISHOP
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I ask, incredulous, as Reaper steps aside and lets her pass. He doesn’t even look at me, just keeps his arms folded, eyes fixed on the door like he knows something I don’t.
“Just wait,” he says, voice low and steady. He’s got that tone—the one that means he’s already three moves ahead and doesn’t feel the need to explain himself.
I shake my head, but Dog doesn’t wait for permission. “I don’t think she’ll be able to open the door,” he mutters, pushing past us, his boots pounding across the floor. In another moment, he’s at her side, kneeling to pull free the makeshift reinforcements we installed weeks ago. I watch him fumble with the heavy bolts, Katya hovering in the shadows by the door, her energy restless and sharp.
I glance at Reaper, raising an eyebrow in question. He just shrugs, hands in his pockets, acting like this is all some test he’s waiting to see play out. I hate when he does this. It makes me feel like I missed something—like there’s a game happening and I’m the only one who never got the rules.
We drift to the main bar, keeping our distance but close enough to see everything. Katya finally steps outside, Dog holding the door as she darts past. I catch the way she hesitates on the porch, gaze fixed down the driveway—like she’s searching for a ghost.
And then I see him.
A man standing halfway up the gravel, posture too straight, jacket neat and formal. He has her eyes. He’s younger than Novikov, but older than Katya. There’s a kind of icy calm to him that sets my teeth on edge.
Reaper steps out after her, voice casual as anything. “Hey, Alexy. What’s the hurry?”
