Chapter 5 Xiara
T hat biker is far too obstinate, and now he’s playing games. I’m not stupid. I know he’s throwing another party and cranking the music, so I’ll go ask him to turn it down. I won’t do it.
Honestly, I don’t get why Bullseye’s being so persistent. We don’t know each other. Once he leaves Mags’s house, I’ll never see him again. It’s not like we run in the same circles. If Mags hadn’t gotten sick, I would never have met Bullseye.
This is a disaster. I don’t need the added stress. This guy is a pain in the ass. I’m not too keen on getting chummy with any bikers, especially after meeting Murder. My inked neighbor is making it almost impossible to ignore him. I know my temper. At some point, I’m going to get fed up and march over there. I guarantee that’s what he wants.
So, now I’m determined not to give in. It’s a private, silent war, so help me; I’ll be the winner.
The following morning, I refuse to stay shut inside my house. I fill my mug with hot tea, lemon, and honey and head outside to read. It’s warm already, and I can tell by the sun’s bright rays that it’ll be a beautiful day. I sink onto the cushions of my swing and slowly rock, relaxing in the silence. There’re only a few birds to lend their song to the cheerful atmosphere, but it’s enough to put a smile on my face.
Until I hear someone retching close by, I don’t dare turn my head because seeing that shit will make me puke too. I’ve got a sensitive stomach when it comes to bodily fluids. It always triggers a visceral response from me. My mother had an iron stomach. My dad? He couldn’t handle any of that and once got violently sick in the bathtub beside me while I had stomach flu.
I shiver as I set down my mug. When I hear the person stop heaving, I glare in their direction. It’s one of Bullseye’s club brothers. I swear all they do is smoke, drink, and party. Oh, ride their motorcycles. It’s so damn annoying I want to shout at him, but I don’t.
Stay strong, Xiara.
Bullseye chooses that moment to exit Mags’s house. He sees me glaring at his club brother and chuckles. I narrow my eyes as the biker approaches Bullseye. They have a conversation I can’t hear and then walk to the bikes parked on the driveway.
I’m hopeful they’re all finally leaving. It turns out I’m wrong as I watch a few guys ride off, but not Bullseye. It occurs to me he has his road name for a reason. The guy is as tenacious as I am. He locks onto a target and doesn’t give up. We’re just going to have to find out who’s more determined to win.
Me, of course.
As Bullseye turns to face me, he doesn’t hesitate to stride toward my porch. I won’t be able to beat him to the door. He’s too quick. Instead, I reach for my mug and sip on my tea, content to ignore him.
“Hey, Beautiful.”
I don’t reply, just glance in his direction.
“I figure you’re tryin’ to prove a point. I get that.”
He’s unbothered by my silence and moves closer, invading my personal space.
Since that annoys me, I jump to my feet and stand by my door. It’s only a second before he presses close, reaching for my mug and taking it gently from my hand. He sets it aside on the nearby plant stand and lowers his chin. There’s nowhere to go, so I hold his stare.
“It doesn’t have to be like this. We can end this little game right now.”
I arch a brow, waiting for him to elaborate.
Bullseye takes that as a sign I’m giving in. His lips curl with a smile. “You let me in, and we work this out.”
Uh-huh. “And how do we do that?” I ask, finally breaking my silence.
“She speaks,” he whispers with a chuckle. “I’ll let you choose.”
How gracious. “I don’t think so.”
He’s unruffled by that response. “I figured.” His body cages mine against the door as one palm rests flat against the wooden surface. With his free hand, he brushes his knuckles over my cheek. “I know you’re irritated. I get that. We got off on the wrong foot, Babe.”
I don’t agree. Besides, it’s not him I’m objecting to, it’s his life as a biker.
As if he can hear my thoughts, he frowns. “I don’t know what happened to you, but it’s weighing on me. You got spooked the other night. I want to know why.”
I bite my lip, trying to look away from his soul-searching gaze, but his fingers close around my jaw and keep it in place. He’s not hurting me. By contrast, his touch is controlled but tender.
“I’m guessing your brother is the teenager I’ve been seeing. You feel protective of him. That’s only natural. It’s the same as I feel for my club. That’s why I’m an enforcer.”
“Xaden is my blood. Family,” I point out.
“Darlin’, that’s what the brothers in my club mean to me. Family. It doesn’t have to be blood we share, although I’d argue we’ve done our fair share of that.”
He means violence. It only solidifies my resolve.
“Damn, Xiara. Who scared you?”
My chin wobbles as tears flood my eyes and hover at the brim. I don’t want to cry. It’s a weakness I hate. I can just imagine him thinking I’m a typical woman who can’t handle her emotions. That’s not usually me. It’s the worry and fear I feel about Murder and the Crimson Heretics that’s causing it. Usually, I’m in better control of myself.
It might be foolish to think like this, but I saw the way Murder looked at me. He doesn’t seem like the type to walk away. He wasn’t happy about the cops showing up at the gas station. It wasn’t my fault they were called, but he didn’t like the interruption. I feel in my gut he’ll be back.
“Baby,” Bullseye rumbles, hugging me against his chest.
I don’t know why I let Bullseye do it. Maybe it’s because it’s been so long that I’ve had to remain strong. I can never let my walls down or anyone penetrate that barrier I erected with my parents’ deaths. I have responsibilities. There’s no one else to ensure the bills are paid, the house is clean, Xaden has food to eat, or we’ve got a car for transportation. It’s all on me.
I sniffle and blink the tears back, refusing to let them fall.
Bullseye’s hand cradles the back of my head as I rest my head over his heart. I can hear it thumping beneath my ear. His warmth chases away a chill that’s bone-deep and hasn’t relented since the moment I learned about my parents’ car crash. I can never seem to get warm enough. It’s the biggest reason why I’m always wearing layers or hoodies.
But right now? I almost feel like I can relax, and that’s dangerous. I can’t afford to let down my guard. I’m the only thing standing between Xaden and foster care. That’ll never happen. Not on my watch.
I sigh and pull away, reaching behind me for my doorknob at the same time. I’m closing the door as I see the puzzled expression on Bullseye’s face. But more than that, bleeding through the confusion is curiosity and concern. I wish I could trust him.
But I can’t.
“XIARA?”
I peek from the doorway of my office to answer Brooklynn. “Everything okay?”
She points outside at the pumps. When I scan the area, I don’t see anything.
“What,” I begin, and then I hear what’s got her concerned—motorcycle engines.
Shit.
As I walk into the store, I’m instantly on edge, moving behind one of the aisles to get a better look. Please don’t be Crimson Heretics. I suck in a breath as several bikes park in front of the store. Two more ride to a pump to fill the engines. It’s not until I see one of the guys remove his helmet that I realize which club is here. I stiffen for a different reason when I recognize Bullseye. From what I can tell, he arrived with about half the members from the Summit Hill Vipers. I’ve seen almost all of them before today and feel I can easily identify nearly each one.
I shouldn’t feel like Bullseye’s stalking me. After all, this gas station is the closest one to our neighborhood. I see people I know every day. It’s just that it’s him , and after the way he held me two days ago, I’m feeling vulnerable. It doesn’t sit right, and my fingers drum across a package of cookies on a shelf.
“Xiara? Are you okay?”
“Sure,” I reply, tearing my gaze from the front windows and trying to smile. Brooklynn gives me an odd look, and I’m sure my smile is more like a grimace.
I’m still standing there as the door dings and opens, several bikers walking inside. There’s a part of me that worries these guys will treat us as bad or worse than Murder and his crew. I don’t have to worry, though. As soon as Bullseye spots me, his brows rise in surprise.
Okay, so he doesn’t know I work here. Until now.
Maybe he’s not a stalker.
Several Vipers members disperse around the store, picking out drinks from the cooler. One scans the row of candy bars and snatches a Snickers, tossing it onto the counter. He lifts his chin to greet Brooklynn.
“Hey, Darlin’, need to pay for pump six and this.” He pushed the candy bar her way.
She blinks and then nods, ringing him up. I catch her smile as he winks at her before leaving the store. Another Viper steps up to pay when I notice I’m not alone.
“Xiara.” Bullseyes cuts off my view as he steps close, much closer than deemed a respectable distance for two people shopping in a convenience store. It’s almost intimate. “Didn’t know you work here.”
I search his eyes, finding no hint of a lie in that statement. “Yeah. I’m a supervisor.”
“This place have good security?” He glances at the cameras and the register, then the door to the office, before looking at me again.
“I suppose so.” Good enough to catch people in the act if they’re doing something illegal.
That thought leads me to a conclusion I haven’t considered before now. When Murder and his club entered the store, the cameras recorded everything. His assault on me should have been easy to retrieve from the hard drive. So why haven’t I heard from Officer Hannigan or the police department? There’s been no contact. That’s super odd. Even after my statement, I should have received something about my case. It’s been a couple of weeks. Long enough to implicate Murder and his club.
Shit. What do I do now?
Officer Hannigan left me her card. I have her direct line to call for an update. I should check in and find out if there’s progress on the case.
“Xiara? What is it?”
I shake my head, blinking as I focus on the big man in front of me. He’s got to be well above six feet in height. I have to look up to stare into his eyes, and I’m five-eight. Mr. Broad Shoulders, Dark Tattoos, and Towering Height. Oh yeah, he’s Mr. Hazel Eyes too. Why does he have to be so good-looking?
“Nothing,” I finally mumble.
Bullseye reaches for my hand, and I see the tremor as he lifts it. “Hey, Babe. Talk to me.” His fingers rub the surface of my skin in a smooth circle. It’s warm, distracting, and far too pleasant.
“I can’t,” I whisper. It’s as close to a confession as I can get right now.
That seems to worry him. “Beautiful, if someone’s threatening you, I want to know. Promise I can help handle the situation.”
I don’t doubt his skills. It’s the connection to my brother—a recurring theme.
“It might be nothing,” I whisper, catching Brooklynn’s wide eyes.
I don’t know if she thinks Bullseye is bothering me since she glances at the panic button and then at me. Twice. I get what she’s asking. With a slight shake of my head, I let her know I’m good.
Her shoulders relax as she rings up the next customer. It’s not a biker.
As I scan around me, I see two people inside. One is a woman tossing fruit and snacks in a basket. The other is a Viper. The one I saw tossing his cookies the other morning. I’ve yet to learn his name. As he approaches us, I read his patch. CASH.
The urge to snort is severe.
“You comin’, Bull?”
“In a minute,” Bullseye answers, keeping his focus on me.
“Church in thirty.”
“I won’t miss it,” Bullseye promises.
Church? Like Sons of Anarchy? A meeting where they make every decision, including who lives or dies. Get it together, Xiara. This isn’t a television show.
“Listen, Gorgeous, I’ve got to go.” He sounds like he doesn’t want to leave. “Let me see your phone.”
I frown. “Why?”
“Because you should have someone to call in case of trouble.”
“I don’t need any help.”
“Not right now,” he agrees. “Just let me put my number in your cell. You don’t have to give me yours.”
He’s right. It might be helpful to have his number because I don’t know who else to call if Murder comes back. The police don’t seem to be pursuing anything, and I can’t handle the Crimson Heretics on my own.
“Okay.” I pull my phone from my pocket and swipe across to unlock it.
Bullseye enters his contact information and places my cell in my palm. “I don’t like leaving you right now. Something is going on, Babe. I have a gut feelin’ about shit. You’re in danger, and it’s killin’ me that you’re tryin’ to keep it a secret.”
I don’t deny or confirm anything he says, but I don’t have to for him to know he’s right.
“You call me if anything goes down. Promise me.”
His stare is so intense that I nod.
“Say it. Give me your word.”
“Fine. I’ll call you if I need help.”
“Good.” He lowers his head, dropping close to my ear as he whispers. “You’re under my protection. Doesn’t matter how long you fight this. I’m not goin’ anywhere. And just so you know, that’s my aunt’s house next door to you. You’re never gettin’ rid of me.”
I gasp as he flashes me a grin, squeezes my hand, and releases it.
With far too much confidence, he saunters to the door. I can’t resist watching as he exits the store, throws a leg over his Harley, and his powerful thighs rest on either side of the glistening engine. At the last second, before he pulls away, his eyes find mine.
He says one word, and I swear it’s not the one I think he said.
Mine.