Page 31 of Claimed By the Bikers

I catch her three steps from freedom, my arm wrapping around her waist and hauling her back against my chest. She explodes into motion immediately, all elbows and knees and furious determination.

“Let me go!” She drives her elbow into my ribs, hard enough to make me grunt. “I can’t stay here!”

“Like hell you can’t.” I tighten my grip as she tries to twist away. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Her bare feet find the floor, and she launches herself toward the door again. This time I’m ready, lifting her clean off the ground as she kicks wildly at nothing.

“Put me down! This is kidnapping! I’m a federal agent!”

“You’re ours,” I correct, carrying her back toward the kitchen despite her struggles. “You stopped being anything else the moment you spread your legs for us.”

She snarls something unprintable and manages to catch me in the shin with her heel. Pain shoots up my leg, but I don’t drop her. Instead, I pin her against the kitchen counter, using my body to cage her in.

“Fight all you want, lass. I’ve got all day.”

“HELP!” she screams at the top of her lungs. “SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

“No one’s coming,” I tell her calmly. “And you’re just going to wake my brothers, which won’t improve your situation.”

As if summoned by her shouts, heavy footsteps pound down the stairs. Atlas appears first, hair mussed from sleep but eyes sharp and alert. Silas follows a moment later, looking murderous at being woken up.

“Problem?” Atlas asks, taking in the scene with one glance.

“Just a bit of morning rebellion,” I say, maintaining my hold as Natalie continues to struggle. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“I’m leaving,” she pants, glaring at all three of us. “You can’t keep me here against my will.”

Silas moves to the kitchen drawer, pulling out a pair of zip ties we keep for emergencies. “I’m pretty sure we can.”

Her eyes go wide as he approaches. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Atlas takes the zip ties from Silas, examining them with casual interest. “You’re a federal agent who’s been gathering intelligence on our operations. Kidnapping is the least of our concerns.”

“I could expose everything,” she threatens, but there’s desperation in her voice now. “One phone call and this whole place gets raided.”

“With what phone?” I ask reasonably. “The one Silas collected from your things last night? The one that’s probably been turned off and disassembled by now?”

The fight goes out of her suddenly, shoulders sagging as the reality of her situation hits. “You can’t just… I’m a person. I have a life, a job, responsibilities.”

“Had,” Silas corrects softly. “Past tense. That life ended when you decided to infiltrate ours.”

I study her face, seeing the exact moment she understands how thoroughly trapped she is. It’s not cruelty that makes us do this. It’s necessity. We can’t let her go, not now that she knows everything. But that doesn’t mean we have to be monsters about it.

“Hands behind your back,” Atlas orders, holding up the zip ties.

She looks between the three of us, calculation flickering in her green eyes. For a moment I think she might try to run again, but then she turns around and puts her hands behind her back with defeated grace.

Atlas secures the zip ties, not tight enough to cut off circulation but firm enough that she won’t slip free. When he’s done, I guide her to one of the kitchen chairs.

“Sit,” I tell her gently. “Let me finish breakfast.”

She perches on the edge of the chair, hands bound behind her, wearing nothing but my shirt. The picture she makes—rumpledand defiant and utterly beautiful—makes something twist in my chest.

I return to the stove, scrambling the eggs while bacon sizzles in the other pan. Behind me, my brothers settle into chairs at the table, the silence thick with unspoken tension.

When everything’s ready, I fix her a plate—eggs, bacon, toast with butter and jam. Simple food, but made with care. I pull up a chair beside her and cut the eggs into manageable bites.

“I can feed myself,” she says quietly.