Chapter 4
DRIFT
Iwas in the small garage, finishing a tune-up, when my phone buzzed on the workbench.
Alanna’s voice tumbled through the line, too quick, tripping over itself.
“Hey—sorry, I know this is random. My car won’t start, and I have a meeting with my research partner at noon that I can’t miss.
Or…well, anyway, Jax is on his honeymoon, and I didn’t want to bother Kane or Edge because they’re probably busy with their wives and kids and stuff, and I don’t really know anyone else yet. You're probably busy too—”
“Breathe, Alanna,” I cut in, amused at her rambling.
She paused. “Oh, um. Sorry. Anyway—”
“Your apartment?”
“What?”
“You’re at your apartment?”
“Yes. I already tried jumper cables, and the lights still come on, so it’s probably not just the battery, but—”
“Sit tight, babe. I’m on my way.” Babe? Well, that was stupid, Lawton. Hopefully, she missed it.
“Drift, you don’t have to—”
I was already moving down the hall, grabbing my keys and cut when I interrupted her again. “On my way.” Then I hung up.
Outside, the August air hit thick and wet, summer pressing down with no reprieve in sight. But that was Florida.
My bike waited under the awning, matte black catching the glare. I shoved on my cut, swung a leg over, and started the engine. The roar cut through the stillness, and something in my chest settled the moment I twisted the throttle.
A few minutes later, I turned into her complex. Midmorning light poured across the parking lot, bright enough to burn the edge off my anger. Alanna stood beside her car, hood popped, hazard lights flashing weakly like a heartbeat about to give out.
I tried not to notice how her gray T-shirt hugged her curvy frame, or the golden blond hair pulled into a messy twist that the wind kept tugging loose. She had one hand on her hip and the other gripping jumper cables.
Relief hit first because she was safe. Then irritation.
I killed the engine and dismounted. “This the problem?”
She blinked, startled. “Drift. I didn’t think you’d actually—”
As I got closer to her ride, I realized the situation was worse than I’d expected. “What the hell is this piece of crap?”
Her mouth fell open. “Excuse me?”
“This fucking death trap.” I tapped the hood harder than necessary. “Jax lets you drive around in this?”
“Jaxton doesn’t let me—”
“He should’ve bought you a new car years ago.” Jax was a tech genius and fucking brilliant. He could afford to buy his sister a fleet of cars and not put a dent in his worth.
She planted her hands on her hips. “He offered. I said no.”
I looked over at her, the words still rolling hot in my chest. “Why?”
“Because I’m a grown-ass woman, that’s why. It’s bad enough I’m living in a place he set up for me. I’m not adding ‘let my brother buy my car’ to the list.”
My teeth ground together, but I didn’t argue. I respected the hell out of that answer, even if it made me want to throttle the gorgeous woman in front of me. “Fine. But you’re not driving this again.”
“I’ll get it fixed tomorrow.”
“You won’t.”
Her chin lifted. “Yes, I will.”
I growled in frustration, surprised and a little pleased that she didn’t seem intimidated. Not many people out there wouldn’t shrink back or run away from my wrath.
“Fine,” I gritted out. “Let me take a look. It’s dead?”
“I guess. It wouldn’t start.” She gestured helplessly toward the open hood, cheeks flushed from the heat. Or from me showing up so fast.
“Keys.”
She handed them over without argument this time. I leaned in, checked the connections, and caught the faint smell of burnt oil under the cleaner she had used on the dash. The engine coughed once and died again when I tried it.
“Starter’s shot,” I muttered. “You’re not driving this anywhere.”
Her mouth tightened. “Like I said, I can get it fixed.”
“Not today.” I was done with this argument. She would be driving a different car tomorrow, whether she liked it or not.
“Drift—”
I shut the hood hard enough to make her jump. “You got somewhere to be. Grab your bag.”
She hesitated, the instinct to argue flashing in her eyes. Then she sighed, muttered something about “bossy bikers,” and disappeared inside while I suppressed a smile.
When she came back out, she carried a purse. Her eyes met mine, and she seemed to fill with nervous energy again, making her words tumble out. “You really don’t have to—I mean, I can—”
I held out my spare helmet. “Get on.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “I can’t ride on that.”
My mouth curved down. “Why the fuck not?”
She sputtered. “Because only a guy’s old lady rides behind him!”
“And family.”
She went quiet at that, and her eyes dropped, but not before I saw the disappointment flicker in those stormy-gray pools before she masked it.
I knew she’d misunderstood the weight behind it—by family, I meant mine.
But I didn’t explain because it wouldn’t do either of us any favors.
If she’d looked closer, though, she would’ve seen the lie sitting under my tongue.
She pulled on the helmet, and I helped her climb on. The moment her arms slid around my waist, something in me short-circuited. Her body molded against my back, warm and soft. I gripped the handlebars tighter than I needed to and hit the road.
The ride to downtown Crossbend didn’t take long, but it felt longer with Alanna pressed against me. The wind dragged strands of her hair across my neck, and her breath was a soft rhythm I could feel through the layers between us.
The café sat on a corner, two blocks from the waterfront, sunlight flashing off the glass storefront and the metal sign that read The Drift Café. Cars lined the curb, locals moving slow in the heat. I parked at the edge of the lot, killed the engine, and helped her off.
She lifted the helmet, her cheeks flushed and hair tumbling loose. “Thank you.”
“Text me when you’re done.”
Her head tilted to the side, giving me a confused smile. “You’re not leaving?”
“I’ll be right here.” I crossed my arms over my chest and settled back on my bike.
Before she could answer, she was interrupted by a voice from across the lot, and her smile faltered.
“Alanna!”
The guy walking toward us looked like he’d come straight from a student catalog—pressed shirt, too-white sneakers, neatly parted hair, and a grin stretched a little too wide.
I was immediately on my guard. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way. Especially the proprietary gleam in his beady eyes when they scanned Alanna’s body. He seemed too comfortable in her space.
“Ethan,” she greeted, her smile forced.
He gave me a once-over, eyes catching on my cut, the bike, then back to her. “Who’s this guy?”
“Ethan, this is Drift. My car died, and he gave me a ride.”
My hands curled into fists when the little shit looked at her with disapproval, as if his opinion made a difference. “I would have come to get you, Alanna. You didn’t need to get a ride from…someone like him.” His voice dripped with disdain.
Alanna shot him a warning look. “Drift is Jaxton’s best friend. He’s…like a brother.”
Something cold twisted under my ribs. Like a brother. Like hell. We’d be clearing up that shit real soon, but this wasn’t the time or the place.
I didn’t move or speak, just stared hard at Ethan, satisfied when he couldn’t hold my gaze and dropped his eyes to the ground for a beat.
He puffed up his scrawny chest and tried again. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure she gets home safe.”
My eyes narrowed when he set his hand on her lower back, and she shifted uncomfortably.
He shot me a smirk that scraped every nerve I had.
I stepped forward until my shadow covered his shoes.
His smirk wilted. Then he took in my much larger frame, the ink on my knuckles, and the scar splitting my brow before his eyes caught the patch on my chest. The one that said Redline Kings, Tail Gunner.
The color drained from his face, and what little confidence he had left cracked.
I didn’t need to say a word. The air did it for me, practically rippling with the menace and lethal vibes coming from me.
“Drift.” Alanna’s hand brushed my arm, her pulse visible at her throat. “It’s fine.”
“I’ll be right here,” I repeated, my voice low enough to vibrate. My stare stayed on Ethan. “When you’re done, come straight out.”
She nodded, and her shoulders loosened a fraction—barely, but enough to see her relief.
I didn’t like that she needed to feel it, but I liked being the reason she could.
Ethan muttered something about coffee and hurried toward the door.
I watched him go, jaw locked, then leaned back against the bike once more.
The sun beat down, the metal hot through my jeans, but I didn’t move.
Inside the glass storefront, she sat across from him at a two-top table.
Every time Alanna smiled politely instead of naturally, my pulse kicked harder.
And every time he leaned in too close, I wanted to rearrange his teeth.