Chapter 4 #2
I felt her eyes on my back as I led her through the shop and toward the hall that cut behind the main office.
The first bathroom sat on the left, clean but industrial, with gray tile, a deep utility sink, lockers along one wall, and a shower stall big enough for a man to scrub off a full day of grease without bumping his elbows.
The second was farther down, set up the same way, because The Pit ran late often enough that my people needed to wash and change before going home.
Riley stepped just inside the doorway and looked around with the same focused attention she’d given her engine, taking in the shower, locks, exits, and the fact that both rooms were clean enough to prove I ran a tight shop.
“Employees use these?” she asked.
“Yeah. We get covered in grease, fuel, metal dust, and whatever else the day throws at us. Figured giving my guys a place to wash off before they went home would cut down on complaints from wives and old ladies.”
“Practical.”
“I try.”
Her gaze slid to me, and there was that almost-smile again.
It made my cock throb because apparently, my body had decided every expression she made was an invitation.
I ignored it by showing her the kitchenette next, which sat at the end of the hall with dark cabinets, a full-size fridge, a battered table, a coffee maker that had seen more trauma than some prospects, and enough snacks to survive a hurricane if nobody let Nitro near the good stuff. “This is for everybody.”
Riley looked at the shelves, then at the fridge, and I could see the moment she realized I meant it when I basically told her to help herself.
I walked her through the alarm panel next. She paid attention to every step, asked two smart questions, and repeated the code once under her breath as if locking it into place. That told me more than she probably wanted it to.
She listened like a woman who expected to need the system before morning. It made me want to put her behind me and dare the world to try something, but I kept my voice steady and showed her the panic button hidden under the counter instead.
Her gaze snapped to mine. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
“What happens if I press it?”
“Every brother within range gets an alert, cameras lock to the nearest feed, and whoever made you press it regrets every choice that led them here.”
For the first time since she’d returned from the motel, Riley looked like she didn’t have a smart-ass answer ready.
Her throat moved when she swallowed, and her lashes lowered for a second before she nodded.
The gratitude she didn’t say sat between us anyway, and it hit me harder than words would have.
I didn’t want her grateful. I wanted her safe. Unfortunately, wanting anything that badly from a woman I’d met a couple of hours ago probably meant my brothers were gonna be even more insufferable than usual when they found out.
I led her upstairs to the second level, where the offices overlooked part of the shop through interior windows.
Most of them were used for scheduling, private calls, payroll reviews, and the kind of paperwork nobody wanted to admit kept the place alive.
The office at the end of the hall was the least used, mostly because Kane preferred doing business from his own place, the clubhouse, or whatever track he happened to be controlling that day.
And Nitro had an office near mine on the first floor.
I unlocked the door and pushed it open, letting Riley step inside first.
The room wasn’t fancy, but it was solid.
A desk sat against one wall beneath a framed photograph of a Redline Precision car crossing a finish line with smoke curling behind the tires.
A low couch faced the opposite wall, already pulled out enough to make it clear it could turn into a bed.
The carpet was clean, and the blinds worked.
More importantly, the door had a sturdy lock, and an exterior window faced the fenced back lot instead of the street.
I set her duffel on the couch. “Door locks from the inside. Nobody comes up here after hours unless they have a reason, and tonight they won’t because I’m letting the right people know you’re here.”
Riley crossed to the window and looked out over the back lot, where a couple of customer vehicles waited behind the security fence.
She stood with her arms wrapped loosely around herself, pretending she was just checking the view.
The more I watched, the less I liked the story her body was telling me.
She was likely wondering whether anyone could reach that window from outside.
When I opened the cabinet beside the desk and pulled out a folded sheet, blanket, and pillow, she turned with one eyebrow lifted. “You keep bedding in an office?”
I tossed the pillow onto the couch and shook out the folded sheet. “My brothers’ old ladies decided we were too pathetic to be trusted with couches and no blankets.”
That got me a real smile, just big enough to cut through the tension in the room. “They coddle you?”
“They try. Usually with food, blankets, and opinions nobody asked for.”
“Sounds terrible.”
“Brutal.” I laid the bedding on the couch. “We suffer.”
Her smile lingered long enough that my body took notice all over again. Standing in that quiet office with the shop noise muffled beneath us, it was too easy to imagine closing the door, backing her against it, and taking that mouth until all the suspicion in her eyes turned into heat.
I wanted to know what she smelled like after a shower in my house, wearing one of my shirts, with her hair damp and her skin warm.
So badly that my hands flexed at my sides, and I had to remind myself that she was exhausted, scared, and not ready for the kind of claiming my body was already planning.
“Need anything else?” I asked.
She glanced around again, slower this time. “No. I’m good.”
She wasn’t good. Not completely. But she was safer than she’d been an hour ago, and for tonight, I’d take that.
Pushing now would cost me ground I wanted to gain. Gauge, the enforcer, could get answers from almost anyone. Ryot, the man, wanted Riley to give them to me because she trusted me enough to stop carrying her shit alone.
“Like I said, you get hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen or fridge,” I reminded her, forcing myself to move toward the door before I started making excuses to stay.
“Set the alarm before you settle in. If something feels wrong, call the number I’m writing down. Doesn’t matter what time it is.”
She looked at the sticky note I scribbled on. “Is this yours?”
“Yeah.”
“I thought you said to hit the panic button.”
“I said both.”
“Overkill much?”
“Frequently.”