Page 15 of Her Dirty Biker
The sound of my boots echoes through the garage as I stalk toward the back bay, jaw tight, hands clenched.
I’ve already worked on two bikes today, rebuilt a busted primary, and still I’m crawling out of my skin. My muscles burn from overuse, my shirt soaked in sweat, but none of it helps. Not whenshekeeps slipping into my head every time I so much as blink.
Willow.
Those wide eyes. That sassy fucking mouth. The shape of her legs when she shifts in her seat, drawing my attention like a goddamn siren.
And last night in the hallway? I nearly fucking kissed her. Stupid. Dangerous. Completely out of line.
She’s too young, too soft, too trusting. She doesn’t belong in my world, doesn’t understand it, and sure as hell shouldn’t want a man like me.
But the way she looked at me…
Fuck.
I slam the wrench onto the workbench harder than necessary. My boss, Wrench, laughs behind me but wisely keeps his mouth shut. He knows I don’t like small talk when I’m brooding.
Which is often.
I lean over the Harley’s engine, but it’s no good. I can’t concentrate. All I see is the flicker of her smile, the flash of fear she tries to hide. I keep remembering the way her breath hitched when I touched her—the warmth of her skin beneath my fingertips.
That girl’s in my blood already, and it’s been less than forty-eight hours.
Too fast. Too much. Too dangerous.
The garage door rumbles open behind me. I turn and spot Rock stepping inside, sunglasses tucked into his cut, expression unreadable.
“You’re avoiding your phone,” he says flatly.
“Been busy.”
He looks at the half-disassembled bike, then back at me. “Looks like you’re spinning wheels.”
I sigh, scrub a hand over my jaw. “She’s still in the safehouse. Locked up tight.”
“Any movement from the Sons?”
“Not yet,” I say. “But I don’t like that Langford’s sniffing around again.”
Rock’s brows pinch. “The suit?”
“Yeah. He was at the casino again yesterday. Talking to Guardrail as if they were old friends. I got nothing concrete, but it’s shady as hell.”
Rock grunts. “You think Willow heard more than she realizes?”
“Maybe.” I shift my weight, restless. “Hell, she didn’t even know what a ‘cut’ was until I explained it. She’s new. Green. But she’s not stupid.”
“No,” Rock agrees. “She’s just in over her head.”
“Which is why I’m keeping her there until we know what the fuck is going on.”
Rock steps closer, lowering his voice. “You sure that’s all you’re doing?”
I go still.
“You getting personal with this one, Diesel?”
My first instinct is to deny it. But I’ve never lied to Rock. Won’t start now.
