Page 6 of Her Feral Biker
“Again, Prince?” she sighed.
The desperation, no—that wasn’t desperation. Her voice was so bereft of emotion that I couldn’t force myself to take another step into her space.
She didn’t say anything else for the moment, so I closed the door quietly behind me, matching her silence, and locked it gently. That didn’t make a sound as Annalise kept her vigil by the window, staring out at fuck knew what. My feet depressed into the thin carpet under foot as I crossed the room, stopping directly behind her, though I didn't touch her yet as I considered her words.
Prince.
My head cocked to one side as I studied her silhouette. No, not prince.Prinze. The Albanian I was meant to be tracking. My jaw clicked. If he’d been here, terrorizing her when I hadn't been able to watch the shop, I’d rip him apart one limb at a time.
Annalise released a long, frustrated breath. “There’s nothing left. You took everything from me last night."
I bared my teeth at her back. I’d been right. Iwouldrip the Albanian heir apart when I found him, orders from the Kings or fucking well not.
“Your mafia boyfriend isn’t coming back for you tonight, princess,” I murmured, easing into the space at her back. The heat of her brushed my chest through my shirt, so close our bodies almost collided when she gasped and tried to turn about to face me. I caught her wrists in manacles made of my fingers. Keeping my grip loose but unbreakable, I made her face the window. “Keep watching. Look into the shadows. What do you see?”
She held her silence for a moment, doing what I asked.Good.She took me seriously, not screaming or fighting me.
“Nothing?” she asked, then shook her head. “No, that’s not right. Across the street. The bike is yours, isn’t it? The blacked out one.”
I nodded, though she couldn’t see the action and rewarded her with a stroke of my thumb along the inside of her wrist. “Good girl. I’ve been watching you.”
“I know.” The strength in her voice surprised me.
Actually, that she hadn’t tried to kick back or struggle surprised me. But then, she’d looked for me that night, really looked right through me, like she knew I was there all the time, so maybe it wasn't such a shock after all.
I traced her pulse point again with the pad of my thumb. That fluttered fast, so she reacted just fine. Exactly as I expected there.
“What do you want? Prinze Kola already took everything from me.”
I frowned at the back of her head. She barely came up to my shoulder. “He was here tonight?”
“Last night." She shrugged. Some of the tension I hadn’t realized she was holding dropped from her hands. They went limp, sucking the fight out of her at the admission. I kept her wrists circled in my fingers, not letting her go. “He emptied my cash register. Not that it’s the first time.” Her voice wobbled at the end of that sentence.
“Did he hurt you?” My voice came out harsh, and she flinched.
“Why do you care? You broke in for the same thing. I barely earn enough to keep myself going. Can’t you all find someone else to bully?” She finally yanked at my hold, The tears came, though they weren't the ones I expected.
I didn’t let her go, but I did pull her back into my chest, stroking my thumbs over her skin. “I didn’t come here to rob you, and I do want to know more about your mafia boyfriend, but that’s not why I’m here."
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped, like denial was the only part of the conversation that she cared about.
“Yeah?” I leaned in to her and ran my nose along her cheek, inhaling the scents of her creams and shampoo when I made it to her hair. “I know you don’t have a boyfriend."
She stilled. Didn’t fight me. Didn’t answer.
“You’re Annalise Hampton. Twenty-three years old. You live with your parents and your sister and their family. Fuck knows why because you own this place, and the land it’s on. You work here alone, and you barely have time for friends. You walk home in the fucking dark near midnight, and leave your door unlocked.” That last part came out on a snarl. I reigned in my temper, barely, still inhaling the clean scent of her, rubbing my beard against her soft skin.
Fuck, if I wasn’t careful I’d have her against the wall in the next minutes, all soft and warm and smelling like flowers and soap. That wasn’t on the plan for tonight. I sucked in a deep breath to clear my head and ended up with a lungful of her scent instead.
“You’ve been following me.” Her back stiffened. She turned her face partway toward me, her voice almost curious.
I nudged her cheek with my chin, until she faced the glass again. No one walked past the darkened street front at this hour. Across the road my bike sat in complete shadow, the streetlights either side out by design.
“Yeah. You've got some bad habits,” I murmured.
“You’re one to talk,” she shot back at me. Her hands balled into fists, though she still didn’t fight my hold. “Why do you careso much about my business? Why doeshe?” Her voice strained at the end.
I squeezed her wrists gently. “Your mafia boyfriend,” I used the term, knowing it would piss her off but bring her back from the edge of her tears if only for a minute, “seems to have some interest in the town. We’re trying to find out what.”
