Page 16 of Fury
I nod, rising to my feet. "As I'll ever be."
He takes my hand, his fingers intertwining with mine in a gesture that feels both protective and possessive. "I won't let anything happen to you," he promises, his voice low for my ears alone.
"I know," I reply, and the certainty in my voice surprises even me.
As we walk toward the door, my father's eyes follow us, his expression unreadable. But he doesn't object when Greyson's arm slides around my waist.
Outside, the night air has cooled further, stars bright in the clear sky above. Greyson leads me to his bike, the machine gleaming under the security lights.
"Ever ridden before?" he asks, holding out a helmet.
I take it with a small smile. "I grew up in an MC, remember? I've been on bikes since before I could walk."
His answering grin is almost boyish, a glimpse of the young man beneath the hardened club president exterior. "Then you know where to hold on."
Then it hits me. My car. I start to climb back off to go get in, but he stops me.
"We're leaving your car here," Greyson says, his hand tightening on mine when I move toward it. "He knows what it looks like. If he's still out there watching…"
I hadn't considered that, the thought sending another chill through me. "But how will I…”
"I'll handle your transportation until we find him." His tone leaves no room for argument. He reaches into the saddlebag and pulls out another helmet, this one with a full-face shield. "Put this on. It'll hide your hair color."
I understand immediately. My dark hair is distinctive, easily spotted even at night. I take the helmet, slipping it over my head. The world narrows to what I can see through the tinted visor, but there's something comforting about the anonymity it provides.
"My parents will follow us," Greyson says, nodding toward where Kyle and Chrystal are mounting their own bike. "Different route, just to be safe. We'll meet them at a checkpoint to make sure we're not followed before heading to my place."
I swing my leg over the back of his motorcycle, my arms wrapping around his solid torso. Through his leather cut, I can feel the warmth of him, the steady beat of his heart. He kick-starts the engine, the powerful rumble vibrating through me.
"Hold tight," he tells me over his shoulder, and I press myself closer against his back.
We roar out of the compound, taking a sharp right where I expected a left. I understand his strategy immediately. Random turns, doubling back, making it impossible for anyone to anticipate our route. Kyle and Chrystal peel off in the opposite direction, their bike disappearing into the night.
The town blurs past us as Greyson weaves through back streets I barely recognize. The cold night air seeps through my leather jacket, but I barely notice, too focused on the solid warmth of the man before me and the vigilant scan of each street we pass.
After twenty minutes of zigzagging through town, Greyson pulls into an abandoned gas station lot. Moments later, Kyle and Chrystal roll in from the opposite direction.
"All clear?" Greyson calls.
Kyle nods. "No tails. You?"
"Clean. Let's move."
We're off again, this time heading out of town altogether. The road winds through dense forest, moonlight filtering through the trees in silver patches. I've never been to Greyson's house, but I've heard rumors. A modern cabin built expanded and renovated when Greyson took over as president.
After several miles, we turn onto a nearly invisible dirt road, the bike slowing as we navigate the rough terrain. The path climbs upward, deep into the woods, until finally, a clearing appears. And there, nestled among the trees, stands a stunning timber-and-glass structure that somehow manages to look both rustic and sophisticated.
Greyson pulls up to a gate, punches a code into a keypad, and waits as it swings open. The bike rumbles up the gravel drive, coming to a stop before the house. Behind us, Kyle and Chrystal roll to a halt.
"Home sweet home," Greyson says as I dismount, removing my helmet. "At least for now."
I stare up at the house, its windows glowing with golden light. Someone must have called ahead to prepare for our arrival. The thought of staying here, alone with Greyson, sends a flutter through my stomach that has nothing to do with fear.
"We'll do a perimeter check," Kyle says, already striding toward the tree line. "Make sure everything's secure."
"I'll help Olivia get settled," Chrystal offers, her arm linking through mine as we head toward the front door.
The interior of the house is even more impressive than the exterior with soaring ceilings, a stone fireplace, and floor-to-ceiling windows that would offer stunning views in daylight. It's masculine without being spartan, comfortable without sacrificing style.
