Page 3 of Her Feral Biker (Savage Kings MC #6)

LAKE

My penance took too long. By the time I rode past Annalise’s shop her lights were out and the street was deserted.

I stopped for a few minutes to check she wasn’t working late on her own anyway then drove around the back, but she’d already left for the night.

My night took a dive when I noticed Prinze Kola—his actual name, not title, though he was a little entitled shit by all reports—the Albanian mafia heir, driving away from the town in his luxury sports car on my second circuit.

A quick message to Nomad gave little direction, though my energy promised me I was spoiling for a fight.

TITAN: Spotted the Albanian mafia shit in Jackson Ridge. Want me to follow?

NOMAD: Good to know. Take no action.

TITAN: You sure? I’m in the neighborhood.

NOMAD: Get your ass back to the Black Crown before you start something you shouldn’t.

I ground my teeth and pocketed my phone. At least the clubhouse offered plenty of distraction without wondering what the hell to do about the obsession that currently festered beneath my skin.

The few minutes it took me to get back slewed the anger away.

Riding always did that for me, settled a sense of peace over the constant need to shred something that lay inside me.

I strode into the clubhouse—The Black Crown—and gave Nomad a nod, noting the way he watched me with a wary eye as I ordered my drink.

Black Crown bourbon was the house special, reserved for members.

I took the glass, nodding my thanks to Reyna, the bar manager.

It turned out that Nomad wasn’t the only one watching me. She gave me a hard eye and jerked her head in the direction of some of the girls fawning at the end of the bar.

I shook my head. They all knew better. I rarely played with club pussy, and kept my relationships to myself. That Nomad knew about the one girl I had an interest in currently irritated the fuck out of me.

Finishing my drink too fast, I nodded to Reyna and headed to a room out the back.

Sparse but functional, it had a shitty bed, and a few clothes of mine.

I hung my jacket bearing my club patch on a hook beside the door that didn’t lock and tossed my leather pants over the single chair in the corner.

Tomorrow, I’d see Annalise and go say hi. It was time.

Tonight, I needed sleep.

Nobody liked a feral fucking biker. Especially someone clean and pretty like her who deserved a whole hell of a lot better.

I waited outside Annalise’s shop well after dark, but her light didn’t come on like it usually did, nor did she seem to want to decorate. She just stood at the window, watching. Looking away from me, or through me, like she didn’t see anything at all.

Listless.

Nothing like the woman who looked through the darkness the other night with a bright awareness that rocked me soul deep. Who I swore checked for me at the house, like an invitation glittered in those pretty innocent eyes of hers.

Something’s fucking wrong.

I didn’t need to be closer to her to know that.

Waiting in the darkness until the street cleared out took far too long, but I'd promised myself I’d keep my time with her to ourselves.

Maybe see if I could gather a little extra information for the club while I was here, though I didn't think there was anyone else sniffing around this end of the main street.

The Pres and VP were off at the other end of town tonight handling their own business, which meant I had free reign to play this out any way I wanted.

Finally, the street emptied out. I crossed and laid my hand on her door. The damn thing swung inward without any resistance at all. My jaw clicked, the sound loud enough in the pervading silence to leave me wincing.

We’re gonna have words about your security, Annalise.

An open door might make tonight easier for me, but it also looked like an invitation for anyone else coming around.

That left me paused with my foot halfway across her threshold.

My bulk filled her doorway for a bare moment.

That was all it took for the annoying as fuck little bell over my head to ring.

Alright, not ring, exactly. More a broken sort of tingle, like she’d tried to fix it and semi-managed to get the damn thing working.

“Again, Prince?” she sighed.

The desperation, no—that wasn’t desperation. Her voice was so bereft of emotion that I couldn’t force myself to take another step into her space.

She didn’t say anything else for the moment, so I closed the door quietly behind me, matching her silence, and locked it gently.

That didn’t make a sound as Annalise kept her vigil by the window, staring out at fuck knew what.

My feet depressed into the thin carpet under foot as I crossed the room, stopping directly behind her, though I didn't touch her yet as I considered her words.

Prince.

My head cocked to one side as I studied her silhouette. No, not prince. Prinze . The Albanian I was meant to be tracking. My jaw clicked. If he’d been here, terrorizing her when I hadn't been able to watch the shop, I’d rip him apart one limb at a time.

Annalise released a long, frustrated breath. “There’s nothing left. You took everything from me last night."

I bared my teeth at her back. I’d been right. I would rip the Albanian heir apart when I found him, orders from the Kings or fucking well not.

“Your mafia boyfriend isn’t coming back for you tonight, princess,” I murmured, easing into the space at her back.

The heat of her brushed my chest through my shirt, so close our bodies almost collided when she gasped and tried to turn about to face me.

I caught her wrists in manacles made of my fingers.

Keeping my grip loose but unbreakable, I made her face the window.

“Keep watching. Look into the shadows. What do you see?”

She held her silence for a moment, doing what I asked. Good. She took me seriously, not screaming or fighting me.

“Nothing?” she asked, then shook her head. “No, that’s not right. Across the street. The bike is yours, isn’t it? The blacked out one.”

I nodded, though she couldn’t see the action and rewarded her with a stroke of my thumb along the inside of her wrist. “Good girl. I’ve been watching you.”

“I know.” The strength in her voice surprised me.

Actually, that she hadn’t tried to kick back or struggle surprised me. But then, she’d looked for me that night, really looked right through me, like she knew I was there all the time, so maybe it wasn't such a shock after all.

I traced her pulse point again with the pad of my thumb. That fluttered fast, so she reacted just fine. Exactly as I expected there.

“What do you want? Prinze Kola already took everything from me.”

I frowned at the back of her head. She barely came up to my shoulder. “He was here tonight?”

“Last night." She shrugged. Some of the tension I hadn’t realized she was holding dropped from her hands. They went limp, sucking the fight out of her at the admission. I kept her wrists circled in my fingers, not letting her go. “He emptied my cash register. Not that it’s the first time.” Her voice wobbled at the end of that sentence.

“Did he hurt you?” My voice came out harsh, and she flinched.

“Why do you care? You broke in for the same thing. I barely earn enough to keep myself going. Can’t you all find someone else to bully?” She finally yanked at my hold, The tears came, though they weren't the ones I expected.

I didn’t let her go, but I did pull her back into my chest, stroking my thumbs over her skin. “I didn’t come here to rob you, and I do want to know more about your mafia boyfriend, but that’s not why I’m here."

“He’s not my boyfriend,” she snapped, like denial was the only part of the conversation that she cared about.

“Yeah?” I leaned in to her and ran my nose along her cheek, inhaling the scents of her creams and shampoo when I made it to her hair. “I know you don’t have a boyfriend."

She stilled. Didn’t fight me. Didn’t answer.

“You’re Annalise Hampton. Twenty-three years old.

You live with your parents and your sister and their family.

Fuck knows why because you own this place, and the land it’s on.

You work here alone, and you barely have time for friends.

You walk home in the fucking dark near midnight, and leave your door unlocked.

” That last part came out on a snarl. I reigned in my temper, barely, still inhaling the clean scent of her, rubbing my beard against her soft skin.

Fuck, if I wasn’t careful I’d have her against the wall in the next minutes, all soft and warm and smelling like flowers and soap. That wasn’t on the plan for tonight. I sucked in a deep breath to clear my head and ended up with a lungful of her scent instead.

“You’ve been following me.” Her back stiffened. She turned her face partway toward me, her voice almost curious.

I nudged her cheek with my chin, until she faced the glass again. No one walked past the darkened street front at this hour. Across the road my bike sat in complete shadow, the streetlights either side out by design.

“Yeah. You've got some bad habits,” I murmured.

“You’re one to talk,” she shot back at me. Her hands balled into fists, though she still didn’t fight my hold. “Why do you care so much about my business? Why does he ?” Her voice strained at the end.

I squeezed her wrists gently. “Your mafia boyfriend,” I used the term, knowing it would piss her off but bring her back from the edge of her tears if only for a minute, “seems to have some interest in the town. We’re trying to find out what.”

“We, being..?” Annalise twisted toward me again.

“None of that.” I took a step forward, pushing her with me until her body pressed to the glass. “Hands on the window, princess. I’ll keep talking if you do what I say.”

“F–”

I leaned down to whisper into her ear. “Or I’ll find a way to punish you if you sass me again. Do you understand me, princess?”

I swore a tiny growl tore from her throat as I released her wrist and slipped an arm around her waist instead, holding her back against me. Annalise’s breath hitched. She pressed her palms to the window.

“You’re going to come in tomorrow and help me clean that,” she said sweetly.

I laughed. “Damn, princess. The things I wanna do with that mouth.” A smile tugged at the corner of my own. Resting my chin on top of her head, I stared at our shadowed reflections in the darkened glass. “Why does your other boyfriend take money from you?”

“I told you?—”

“Mhmm.” I squeezed her soft tummy gently. “I heard what you said before. But what reason does he give you?”

Annalise huffed, the glass before her face fogging slightly. “He says it’s ‘rent’.” Her hands left the window to form inverted commas before they returned to their position. “He wants to buy the shop.”

The smile on my face died a short death. “For what?” I couldn’t imagine why Prinze would want a kid’s clothing store as one of his businesses.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Last time he told me he’d burn it down with me in it if I didn’t.”

“He said what ?” I froze at her blasé tone at the overt death threat I knew his sort would act on. “Princess…”

“What?” she snapped. Her hands on the glass trembled. “I slept in the shop last night. And you– you—” She choked on her words as she shut down on me, her whole body shaking.

I gave her a moment, holding on to her petite frame until she managed to gulp in the air.

“And I what, princess?” I murmured, resting my chin on her head, expecting her to really fall apart on me, trying to work out how to pull her back together and not murder the man I wanted to target with my next breath.

Until her words sliced the heart I’d given up on with hers.

“You weren’t here.”