Page 40 of The Belle and the Biker

"No," Daisy says at the same time. "Move on." She smiles and pats her husband's muscular arm. "And final word on this. We all know that you ended up doing me an enormous favor because if you hadn't stolen Percy, I'd never have met Mr. Tall, Dark, and Grouchy." She looks up at Chase fondly. "I want Godiva chocolate, babe. No, it's more like a medical necessity at this point."

He nods, his anger vanished. "I'll have it flown in if we can't find any in town."

I can't help but sigh in envy. He's a big, growly Alpha-hole but would do anything for her. Hashtag couple goals. Hashtag me-jealous.

After Carlisle sees them out, I head to my bedroom to pack. Crash comes in while I'm in the middle of it and stares at the suitcases and clothing spread out on my bed, the floor, and the chairs.

"I was going to ask if you were done yet, but uh…"

"It won't take me more than another couple of hours," I assure him.

His jaw drops.

"Ninety minutes." I amend my estimate quickly.

"Ninety minutes to…what?" He gestures at my belongings. "You didn't think you were taking all of that? You've already packed a bag, and that's about all that will fit on the bike. You do know what a motorcycle looks like, right?"

My gaze follows his to one of my bags bulging at the seams. "That's just my hair products," I protest.

He points at another half-filled bag. "And that would be your makeup bag?"

"Lingerie," I say indignantly. "And that one will be the bag for my shoes, and that will be the bag for my purses—"

"Pump the brakes there, sweetheart. Did you say purses, as in plural?"

"Well, look at you, knowing big words like that. Plural. Yes, Crash, plural as in more than one purse. Would you like me to count them for you?" I start holding up purses. "This little clutch is a Chanel. I got it at a consignment store that Daisy told me about. This purse is part of a classic collection I took when my mother threw me out of the house. It goes beautifully with my fall—"

"One bag."

"One purse?" I stare at him in confusion. I understand that Crash is an uncouth savage, but surely he doesn't think I'm going on the run with only one purse. I'd rather stay behind and face my killer. I may be marked for death, but I will die a lady.

A lady who can appropriately accessorize.

"One. Suitcase. That one, the one that you are currently using for your hair products." He points.

I shudder. There's only room for a few outfits in there. We could be on the run for heaven knows how long. He's implying that I would need to wear the same outfit several times in the same week. "Have you lost your mind? I absolutely won't do it."

"You will, or I will switch over to plan B, which has been pre-approved by your aunt. It involves me getting someone from the Iron Ride to come as backup and throwing you into the back of a van, where I will take you to a remote location. We will stay there, and I will guard you and prevent you from escaping and getting yourself killed."

"I am not taking one bag!" I shout at the top of my lungs and don't care who hears me.

Carlisle pokes his head in the door. "Is everything all right, madam?"

"No, everything is not all right! This psychopath thinks I'd go on a trip with only one teeny little bag!"

"Very good, madam." Carlisle withdraws from the room without punching Crash or tossing Crash out on his ear. He's lucky he's been in the family forever, or I would take him off my Christmas list.

I return my attention to Chase. "We can take my aunt's car."

"Which the shooter might very well be able to track. He knows you're here. He was able to follow you on a tiny country road."

"Then we can rent a car."

"I'm more comfortable on my bike. And if anyone in your family rents a car, this guy might be watching their credit cards, and then they might be able to track the car. We're doing it my way and leaving in ten minutes."

"You are being a bully and a bastard!" I shout.

"And you're being a spoiled brat."

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