Chapter 8 Griffin #2
Engines immediately flare to life. The noise is like thunder echoing against the hills. Davis doesn’t move. He just stares at me, his voice tight. “You’re no good for her.”
“Man, you don’t even know me.”
“I know your type,” he replies in disgust. “And I know Georgia’s had enough pain in her life. She doesn’t need more. Leave her alone.”
“Go to hell,” I order, my voice like liquid steel—cold and deadly.
We stare one another down, neither blinking. Finally, he throws me one last look—something between hate and a warning. I ignore it as I watch the bastard climb into his cruiser.
When he pulls away, I spit in the dirt where the fucker was standing, then I turn toward my men.
Hades is grinning again, shaking his head. “So, let me get this straight—you’ve been here two days, claimed a witch, pissed off the sheriff, and got shot at. You sure know how to make an entrance, Prez.”
Cowboy laughs. “Hell, give it another week and he’ll have us tradin’ our bikes for broomsticks.”
Scorpion smirks. “I’m not trading my helmet for a witch hat, Prez.”
Even C cracked a grin, though his eyes were still cautious. “You sure about this, brother? Small town like this… they don’t forget easy.”
I glance back at Georgia’s house. I can see the faint outline of Georgia’s curtains fluttering, like someone had been standing there.
It makes me grin. Did she see me throw down with that Davis asshole?
Her house looked peaceful and welcoming.
Still, if this town had been running their tongues against Georgia, they’ve put her through hell.
Bullets could hurt like hell and might take your life, but tongues wagging hate and evil could destroy a soul and this motherfucking place has probably been whispering about her for years.
“She’s mine,” I repeat once more. “Anyone who’s got a problem with that can take it up with me.”
Scorpion nods once. No one else says a word.
I swing my leg over my bike, the engine roaring beneath me. “Let’s go,” I yell. “We’ll find the assholes who thought they could take me down—and if that bastard Davis steps too close to Georgia again, I’ll make sure he remembers why men like him stay on their side of the line.”
I pull my shades down, rev the throttle of my bike, and shoot a final look at Georgia’s window. I’ll talk to my woman tonight and when I do, she’ll understand exactly who she belongs to.
I take a breath as we ride out onto the street.
Engines thunder behind me as the Kings tear down the small road.
Wind slaps my face, carrying the cool scent of fall weather and asphalt, That would usually relax me, but not today.
Nothing can clear my head. Not the speed.
Not the noise. Not even the burn in my shoulder. I can’t stop thinking about her.
Georgia Cutter.
The woman who’d survived a drive by and instead of crying and letting her fear swallow her whole, she’d patched me up, touching me as if I mattered—as if I was precious to her.
I’ve been around long enough to know better.
You can’t let yourself get attached to others in this world.
Feelings for a woman can destroy you—get you killed.
Claiming a woman left you open and put them in danger, too.
It also gave a woman power to destroy you. I’ve seen it happen way too often.
None of that matters to me now.
Georgia softens the harsh world that I’ve lived in for way too long.
She’s sweet and gentle—my complete opposite.
Yet as soft as she was, there’s steel running through her too.
It’s the quiet kind that’s forged in a fire.
It speaks to me and makes my chest burn with the need to possess it, touch her and claim all that she is for my own.
I’ve had women in my life—temporary, nameless and part of my lifestyle.
Georgia is none of that. She’s the complete opposite and yeah, maybe she’s too good for my world, but I can’t help it.
With her, the word mine left my mouth like a vow that was already written somewhere in the hands of time.
I shake my head, gripping the throttle harder.
That cop, Davis, thought he knew Georgia.
He actually thought he had a right to instruct me as to what my woman needed in her life.
My lips curl and a snarl escapes. That fucker doesn’t know shit.
What Georgia needs is me. I’m the man who will keep the world at bay for her.
I won’t flinch when it turns ugly. I’ll make whatever tries to touch her regret ever entering her orbit.
If this damn town wants to whisper about witches and curses, let them.
I’ll burn this whole damn place to the ground.
They’ll stare at me and know I’m the devil that is coming after them.
They’ll never touch her again. Nothing will.
The road curves and I lean into it, my gaze briefly moving to the rolling hills that surround me.
My men follow behind me and I give into the burning feeling in my gut that has been there ever since someone shot at me while Georgia was in harm’s way.
By tonight, I’d have a plan to deal with the shooter, with Bo Ripley and the town and especially Officer Davis.
I’d deal with it all and when the dust settles, I’ll make sure Georgia understands that I’m her man and no one, not this town, not the cops, not fate, a curse, or God Himself will ever take her away from me.