Trixie
Stopping into the bar hadn’t been part of her plan, but she was road weary and having trouble keeping her eyes open.
She knew that a biker bar was just what she needed to wake her up a bit, to keep her going for at least a few more hours.
She would just have a beer and then keep on going—at least, that was the plan—one drink, maybe two.
She was lucky enough to find somewhere loud enough that no one would hear the sound of her thoughts, until that Neanderthal started talking to her.
He ruined the once shot she had at relaxing for the first time in weeks, and while she found him funny and well, damn hot, she didn’t have time for either.
She shouldn’t have let Cyclops get close enough to her to hear his voice—low and husky.
It was the kind of voice that could crawl right under your skin and take up residence there.
He’s just a biker. A distraction. You don’t have time for distractions.
But the truth itched forward from the back of her mind—it had been a long time since anyone had looked at her like Cyclops had.
Not through her, not past her, but at her.
Like he’d seen something in her, something real, and he liked it.
“Idiot,” she muttered to herself. She kept walking as the wind picked up, carrying the faint rumble of bikes somewhere in the distance. She tensed automatically. Every sound still made her heart stutter. Every shadow felt like it might be one of her father’s men finally catching up to her.
She rounded the corner, ducking into the dark alley behind a rundown motel.
The sign out front said VACANCY in broken neon.
She’d pay cash. She always did, so there would be no paper trail and no questions.
But as she reached for the door, something deep in her gut twisted.
The kind of instinct she’d learned to trust over the years.
She wasn’t alone. She spun around as her hand slid automatically into the switchblade in her pocket.
A single headlight cut through the darkness, the sound of the engine purred low—a predator circling its prey.
They had found her, and no sleezy old motel room was going to protect her now.
No, she was out of options, and the thought of going back to her father’s house made bile rise from her stomach into her mouth.
She pulled her blade, ready to fight to the end, if that’s what it took, when a guy on a bike pulled up to the curb and tugged off his helmet.
“I noticed that you might need a lift,” he said. She looked him over as though he had lost his mind.
“And why would you think that?” she asked.
“Because I’m the club’s enforcer, and it’s my job to notice when someone’s tires get slashed around Road Reapers territory.” She wanted to point out that he sounded as though he were boasting, but right now, she just didn’t care. She needed his help to get out of there in one piece.
“What do you want?” she snapped before he could say anything else.
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“What do you want for giving me a ride out of this place?” she asked.
He grinned, slow and dangerous. “Relax, sweetheart. I don’t want anything.” She knew that trusting him was a risk, but she was out of options. It was either go with him or wait for her father’s men to pick her up and deliver her back to him.
She hated her fucking options. Hell, she hated him. But most of all, she hated the way her chest tightened at just the sight of him on his bike. He was riding in to save her, and he didn’t even know it. Maybe that made him a reluctant knight in shining armor, but she’d take it at this point.
“It’s just a ride, right?” she clarified, quickly looking around to make sure that they were alone.
“It’s just a ride,” he said.
“Good, because otherwise, you’re wasting your time,” she insisted.
His smile was mean, and she knew that she had pissed him off. “Sweetheart, if I was wastin’ my time, I’d already be gone.”
She got onto the back of the bike as he handed her the helmet that he had just taken off. “You’ll need this,” he insisted. She hesitated, and he shook the helmet at her as though silently telling her that there were no other options if she wanted a ride on his bike. She took it and strapped it on.
She wrapped her arms around Cyclops, and he smiled back over his shoulder at her. “You ready, sweetheart?” he asked.
“Name’s not sweetheart—it’s Trixie Lee. And I’m ready,” she lied. She wasn’t ready for any of this, but she had no other choice in the matter. She just needed to remember that Cyclops was dangerous, and danger had a way of sticking to her like gasoline waiting for a spark.
Cyclops Universal Link->
Coming in April, you won’t want to miss Property of Gorgon (Kings of Anarchy Book 1)! Yes, I’m going to be writing for the Kings of Anarchy, and I’m so stinkin’ excited! I hope that you all love Gorgon!