Page 10

Kaz

MILES LOOKED like he was contemplating murder, and Kaz found it quite amusing, which certainly didn’t help temper the glare Miles aimed at him. He pushed the helmet into Miles’s hands, letting go so Miles had to either drop it or catch it. Miles held it against his chest with a curse.

Kaz threw his arms to the sides as he backed toward his bike, a grin on his face. “Don’t tell me you’re scared?”

Miles huffed out a breath, eyes alight with exasperation.

“I’m not scared.”

Kaz arched a brow at him.

“Fine,” Miles snapped, striding toward him, shoving him aside with a hand on the shoulder as he headed for the bike.

He didn’t even try to hide his smile when Miles put the helmet on the seat to put down the passenger footpegs. Miles was still glaring as he tugged the helmet over his head and expertly fastened the chin strap before swinging a leg over the bike and settling into the pillion seat.

Miles looked positively peeved, and he loved every second of it.

He put on his helmet and gloves, then mounted the bike in front of Miles. The roar of his bike had a burst of adrenaline coursing through him, but something was missing. Miles’s arms weren’t around him, and he planned to rectify that.

He made his bike jump forward, grinning as Miles’s arms wrapped around him instantly, the man’s curses loud enough to hear over the bike’s rumbling engine.

He chuckled to himself as he shifted the bike into gear and took off down the driveway, one hand over Miles’s.

He drove them through town, making sure to keep to the speed limit until they reached the open road.

He tapped Miles’s thigh to let him know to hold on before he sped up.

Miles’s arms tightened around him, Miles’s front thoroughly pressing against his back.

He liked having him there. None of the Disciples would likely put any stock in Miles riding behind him because they all still saw him as a kid, but he knew.

He knew what it meant to him. Knew that it was more than he dared put words to.

A hiss escaped him as his stomach contracted beneath fingers moving down to tease the waistband of his pants. They wouldn’t be riding for long if Miles kept that up, and perhaps that was the idea.

He turned down a gravel path, slowing down when they neared a small seating area with an old wooden table and a few tree stumps for chairs.

Digger was on the run with the others, and he doubted anyone else would be using Dig’s place.

He wasn’t even sure how many of them even knew about it.

Digger was a private person, after all. One thing was for certain: no one would be bothering them there .

He pulled to a stop and waited for Miles to dismount before turning off the engine and pushing the kickstand down with his foot. He undid the strap under his chin and pulled his helmet off, running a hand through his flattened hair before he turned his gaze on Miles.

He’d removed his helmet as well, holding it in one hand.

His dirty-blond hair was a mess, and it only made Kaz want him more.

He loved a disheveled Miles. He was wearing Kaz’s old leather jacket, too small for him now, but it fit Miles perfectly.

He knew it was going to cause him problems because he already liked seeing Miles wearing his clothes way too much.

“What is this place?” Miles asked, glancing around curiously.

“This is Digger’s place.” He got off the bike and placed his helmet on the seat before motioning for Miles to hand his over. “He’s got it set up like a shooting range.”

He put Miles’s helmet on the pillion seat and took a step toward Miles.

“Please tell me you didn’t bring me here to show me your gun,” Miles said with an eye-roll that had Kaz grinning.

He crossed his arms, brow arching.

“That’s not the gun I want to show you.”

Miles mirrored his stance, his lips pulling at the corners as if he were trying not to smile.

“Who says I want to see your gun ?”

Kaz’s long legs ate up the distance between them in a few steps, and he put his hands on Miles’s hips, pulling the man flush against him. Miles tilted his head slightly to the side, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“The way you were trying to get in my pants just a few minutes ago would suggest that you do, in fact, want to see it.”

“I changed my mind,” Miles drawled, eyes boring into Kaz’s.

He relinquished his hold on Miles and took a step back, raising his hands.

“Whatever you say.”

Miles was smiling as he shook his head. He cupped Kaz’s face and pressed a quick kiss to his lips before pulling back.

“Later. Now, show me around.”

He grinned and grabbed Miles’s hand, tugging him along the small path worn into the grass leading between the trees to Digger’s shooting range.

He stopped where Digger had his firing line set up.

He motioned toward the metal targets hanging from various trees and said, “I’ve seen him hit every single one of them in barely a few seconds. ”

Miles looked at the nearest target, his brows furrowed as his lips pressed into a hard line. Before Kaz could ask what was wrong, Miles sighed and said, “I don’t like guns.”

A ripple of awareness shot through him at the gut-wrenching tone of Miles’s voice.

He knew exactly why Miles didn’t like guns, and if the bastard who’d shot and killed his and Emma’s parents had still been alive, he knew he would’ve been first in line to take him out.

He was the only one who got to hurt Miles and never like that.