Page 4 of Her Obsessed Biker (Savage Kings MC #8)

Rock

Her heartbeat is pounding against my back.

Her arms are wrapped tight around my waist, fingers curled into the leather of my cut like she’s holding on for dear life. She’s small, soft…nothing like the women I usually let ride behind me, yet there’s something about the way she clings to me that punches straight through my chest.

I don’t let people touch me like this.

But her?

Hell.

I haven’t wanted to push someone away and pull them closer in the same breath like this in a long damn time.

She’s trouble. From the second she stepped into The Black Crown with those too-tight jeans and wide eyes, I knew it. The kind of trouble that sticks to your skin and rearranges your thinking. But even knowing what I know now…

Wolf’s daughter.

Jesus Christ.

Of all the damn people in the world.

I clench my jaw and refocus on the road ahead, the growl of my Harley eating up the distance between us and the one man who might have answers.

Grizz Calloway.

Although retired, Grizz is still very much respected, feared even.

A goddamn legend around Jackson Ridge and beyond.

He co-founded the Savage Kings nearly three decades ago, built the MC from blood, brotherhood, and back-alley deals.

Back when this club was more than a symbol—when it was a movement.

Protection, power, purpose. Grizz was the fire in the center of it all.

But he stepped down five years ago after a bullet to the spine during a gun-run gone sideways.

Took partial paralysis in the left leg and a crooked limp as a parting gift.

Most men would’ve disappeared after that.

Not Grizz. Not only did he establish The Black Crown, the only thriving bikers’ bar in town, he also moved up into the hills and built himself a cabin with his own hands.

Said he was done pulling triggers, but he still kept one loaded. Just in case.

He doesn’t wear the patch anymore, but his word still carries weight. Even now, he’s the man I call when shit gets murky. A tactician. Quiet. Dangerous. The kind of man you don’t poke unless you’re ready to bleed.

And now he’s about to find out he’s got a daughter.

Fuck.

We crest the last bend and I slow the bike, gravel crunching under my tires as the cabin comes into view—weathered wood, metal roof, a porch swing swaying lazily in the mountain breeze. A fire flickers through the living room window.

Piper’s arms loosen slightly as I kill the engine, her breath ghosting against my neck. I dismount first, then help her off the seat. She stumbles a little, and I can feel her nerves getting the better of her. I place my hands on her waist, holding her steady.

She drops her gaze, her cheeks coloring up a little.

“C’mon,” I murmur, voice low. “He’s inside.”

She nods, but it’s a small, jerky movement. Her bravado’s cracked.

I want to say something to reassure her, tell her she’s not alone in this, but fuck if I know how. So I just place a steadying hand on her back and guide her up the steps.

The door’s unlocked.

It always is.

Inside, the place smells like cedar and tobacco. The fire pops in the hearth. And there, in his usual armchair, legs stretched toward the flames, is Grizz Calloway, aka Wolf.

His thick, silver beard hangs down to the middle of his chest, braided in one spot like he forgot to finish it.

His hair is pulled back in a tie, exposing a heavy brow and ice-blue eyes that have seen more death than daylight.

Tattoos creep up his neck from beneath his thermal shirt.

His right hand cradles a half-burned cigar, the smoke curling lazily in the air.

He looks like a Viking who traded pillaging for solitude but never put down the axe.

“Rock,” he greets, voice gravel-thick. “Didn’t expect company.”

I nod once. “Didn’t plan on bringing any.”

His eyes flick to Piper.

She stands still, chin high, even though I can see her knees trembling.

Wolf’s stare lingers…a little too long. There’s a shift in his expression, a flash of something. Confusion. Recognition. Something sharp. He leans forward slightly, his cigar dangling limply between his fingers.

“What’s this?” he asks.

I motion to Piper and she brings out the folded letter she showed me earlier and hands it to me.

“You tell me,” I say, passing the letter to him.

He takes it without a word, unfolding the creased page with the kind of care that makes my stomach twist. He stares down at it in silence, his brows drawn together in concentration, his fingers tightening involuntarily around the paper.

I watch his body stiffen, the cigar burning down in his hand. Ash drops unnoticed onto the rug.

No one speaks.

No one breathes.

Grizz doesn’t look at Piper. Not yet. He stares at that piece of paper like it’s a ghost from a life he buried years ago.

Then…finally…he raises his eyes and looks at her.

She tries to hide it, but I can see her hopes crashing down. Her throat works around a lump, her hands clenching into fists. She’s braver than most men I know. But this?

It hits differently.

She’s not just staring down the barrel of a question, she’s begging for a truth that might tear her apart.

Grizz doesn’t say a word, neither admission nor denial. He just continues to stare at her.

The silence stretches too long.

Way too long.

I feel Piper break before I see it.

She swallows hard, lips pressed into a thin line, and without a single sound, she turns around and walks out.

With one last look at Grizz, I follow after her. Outside, she’s already halfway across the yard, swallowed by the thickening darkness.

“Piper.”

She doesn’t stop.

“Piper!”

She does then.

Barely.

I catch up to her, grab her wrist. “Wait.”

Her eyes are glassy when she looks at me. No tears. Just devastation.

“He didn’t even say anything,” she whispers. “Didn’t even ask my name.”

I clench my jaw. “Doesn’t mean he didn’t feel it.”

She shakes her head. “Then why didn’t he say something?”

I don’t have an answer. I don’t make excuses for other men. But I see the way her hands shake, and fuck me…I hate it.

So I do the one thing I never do.

I pull her into me, and I let her fall apart.

She’s warm in my arms. Small but strong in ways I can’t explain. I don’t do this…I don’t comfort, hold, care. I thought I wasn’t built for it, thought it wasn’t in my blood. But with her…with Piper, it feels natural. Inevitable.

She lets me hold her, long enough for the storm in her chest to calm, for the breath she’s been choking on to come back. Then she steps back.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, brushing her fingers across her cheek, though there’s nothing there. No tears. Just rawness.

I let her go, my hands dropping slowly to my sides. She tucks her hair behind one ear, avoiding my eyes.

“I guess I should leave now,” she says, forcing a small smile, like it doesn’t sting her to say it.

The words hit me harder than they should.

Leave?

Just like that?

She’s only been here a few hours, but the thought of her disappearing into the night…into some shitty roadside motel or worse, makes something tighten in my chest like a vise.

I’ve spent years keeping people at arm’s length. Hell, most never get close enough to even try. But she walked into my life and flipped the switch without even knowing it. And now the world feels too fucking dark without her in it.

Still…I can’t cage her. Won’t.

If she wants to go, I’ll let her. But not tonight.

Not like this.

“Don’t,” I say before I can stop myself.

She tilts her head, confusion flickering in those ocean eyes. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t go.”

She blinks. “Why?”

I exhale through my nose, steadying my voice. “Because it’s not safe.”

She raises a brow, clearly not buying it. So I spell it out.

“It’s late. You’re alone. And those guys who cornered you earlier?” My jaw flexes. “They’re not my club members. They’re Sons of Decimation. A rival crew. They’ve been sniffing around town the past few weeks. Stirring shit up. Looking for cracks.”

She frowns. “You think they’re still around?”

“I don’t think,” I grit out. “I know they are. And they saw you. Alone. Vulnerable. You really wanna risk it out there with just your old truck?”

Her expression falters. For a second, she looks so small. So fragile.

She doesn’t answer right away. Just stares off into the dark tree line like she’s trying to calculate the weight of her next move.

And I wait.

I tell myself that this is about her safety. But deep down, I know it’s more than that. I don’t want her to go because if she walks away tonight, I might never see her again. And that thought guts me.

There’s something about this woman that pulls me in.

And she’s so much more than just a pretty face.

Piper is brave and determined. It takes guts to come all the way out here betting on chance.

It takes courage to keep standing in the face of the cold silence of the man who’s supposed to be her father.

Somehow, she’s become the one thing I didn’t know I was missing until she walked into my bar and flipped my whole damn world on its head.

She looks up at me, biting her bottom lip. She seems to be thinking, weighing her options. Then she gives a single nod. “Alright,” she says softly. “Just for tonight.”

Relief hits me like a freight train. I didn’t realize how tight my chest had gotten until I could breathe again.

I nod once. “Good.”

We don’t speak for a moment. The wind rustles the trees above us. Somewhere far off, a coyote howls. She shivers.

I shrug out of my leather and drape it over her shoulders without a word. She startles, caught off guard by the gesture. Her fingers touch the collar like it means something more than it should.

Maybe it does.

“C’mon,” I say, voice low. “Let’s get you somewhere safe.”

She follows me.

And all I can think as we walk into the shadows together is that tonight…I might’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

Or the best decision I’ll ever make.