Page 17 of The Biker's Single Mom
This wasn't supposed to happen. I wasn't supposed to care for him, to crave his touch, to want more than just his protection. I came to Fox Ridge running from one man; I didn't expect to fall into the arms of another.
Daniel returns too quickly, his expression grim. "Get dressed," he says, tossing me my clothes. "We need to move."
"What's wrong?" I ask, fear immediately sharpening my senses.
"Carlo Ricci is personally coming to Fox Ridge," he says, his voice flat. "His men called him after our encounter today. He's bringing reinforcements."
The news hits me like a physical blow. "No," I whisper, guilt flooding through me. "This is my fault. I've dragged you all into this—"
"Stop." Daniel crosses to me in two strides, taking my face in his hands. "This isn't on you. This is on him for not letting go of what isn't his."
"But the Riders—"
"Are exactly where they want to be," he cuts me off. "Standing between innocent people and men who would hurt them."
"Daniel—"
"You're not a problem, Daisy," he says, his voice dropping to that low, intense register that makes my stomach flip. "You're mine. That means he goes through me first."
The possessive claim should frighten me. Should remind me of Carlo and his suffocating control. But Daniel's words feel different, not a cage, but a shield. Not ownership, but belonging.
And in that moment, I admit to myself the truth I've been resisting since I first saw him in that garage, covered in grease and glowering at the world: Daniel Stone isn't just my protector.
He's already my home.
Chapter 6 – Daniel
I've fought enough battles to know the quiet before. The Riders move with practiced efficiency, checking weapons, securing doors, speaking in low voices that don't carry beyond our circle.
Daisy stands near the window, watching. She's changed into jeans and a t-shirt, her hair pulled back, face set with determination that can't quite mask her fear. Violet is with Florence in the safe room beneath the clubhouse, a reinforced concrete space with supplies, a bathroom, and enough distractions to keep a child occupied while hell breaks loose above.
"Three vehicles approaching the main gate," Hawk calls from his lookout position. "Black SUVs. Same as before."
Blade nods, adjusting his cut. "Positions."
I cross to Daisy, taking her arm. "Time to go downstairs."
She looks up at me, chin lifting in that way that's already become familiar. "I'm staying."
"The hell you are," I growl, lowering my voice so the others can't hear. "This isn't a negotiation, Daisy. These men will kill you."
"And I won't hide while you risk your life for us." Her hand catches mine, squeezing hard. "I'm done running, Daniel."
"This isn't about running," I say, frustration building. "It's about living."
Her eyes hold mine, steady and clear. "I know. That's why I'm staying." She pauses, then adds softly, "Violet's safe. She has Florence. But I need to see this end."
Something in her expression stops my argument cold. This isn't stubbornness or bravado. This is a woman who's spent years looking over her shoulder, years fearing the shadow at her back. She needs to witness the threat being neutralized, needs to know, beyond doubt, that her nightmare is truly over.
"You stay behind me," I tell her, the words clipped. "If I say drop, you drop. If I say run, you run. No questions."
She nods once, relief flashing across her face. "I can do that."
I don't like it. Every instinct screams to lock her safely away, to handle this threat without her anywhere near the danger. But I understand need. Understand closure.
"They're stopping at the gate," Devil announces, rifle balanced against his shoulder as he peers through the blinds.
I join him at the window. Three black SUVs idle at our security gate, still closed across the driveway. Men in suits step out, eight of them. And then another figure emerges from the middle vehicle.
