Page 3

Birdie

I may not look like the camping type, but after all the shit with Eliza’s ex, Mark, mainly my best friend being pissed at me for not telling her about what a piece of shit her ex-husband was, as if she didn’t already know, I craved solitude. With all that mess cleared up, namely my ex, Brent, Mark’s associate, who’d been threatening me, hightailing it out of Knoxville, pitching a tent in the Tennessee mountains seemed like the perfect escape. The cool night, crickets chirping, and campfire were meant to offer some peace.

Supposed to.

Instead, I found myself on the ground, heart racing, staring into the darkness where moments before, a massive wolf had stood. Not just any wolf. A beast, larger than life, with glowing eyes that seemed to pierce through me. And yet, it had saved me from... something. The details were hazy as fear clouded my memory.

I needed answers. That’s why I went with Rocky. I’d never ridden on a motorcycle before, not in a way that involved leaning into a man built like him. But I wrapped my arms around his waist and plastered myself to his back like my life depended on it.

And for a minute, maybe it had.

The Wild Dog was all smoke, leather, and secrets .

Not exactly the kind of place a girl like me was supposed to feel comfortable, but here I was, fresh off a full-blown panic attack and still wearing dirt-stained leggings and a ripped hoodie, practically vibrating with nerves.

This place? It was chaos on a stick. Laughter, swearing, beer bottles clinking, some Lynyrd Skynyrd blasting from a jukebox in the corner. Big, bearded bikers loitered near the pool tables and the bar, the whole place hazy with smoke and testosterone. But I didn’t care about any of that. Not tonight.

Because I’d seen a monster.

Or maybe my guardian angel.

Whatever it was, it was big, it was furry, and it had saved me from something in the woods that sure as hell hadn’t been a deer.

“Eliza!” I spotted her at the bar, leaning over and talking to Knox like she owned the damn place. Which, judging by the way Knox looked at her, maybe she did.

She spun when she heard my voice. “Oh my God, Birdie.”

I must’ve looked like a damn sight. Her face dropped and she rushed to meet me. “What happened?” she asked, gripping my arms and tugging me out of the walkway. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I was camping,” I stammered. “Just one night, you know? Thought I’d clear my head. But there was something out there. Something huge. I got attacked.”

“Attacked?” Eliza’s brows shot up. “By what?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know. I didn’t see it clearly. It moved so fast. But then this wolf came out of nowhere. Big. Like... not normal big. It saved me. I swear, Eliza, it saved me.”

A pause. Eliza’s gaze flicked over my shoulder. “A wolf?”

“That’s what I said.”

She exchanged a look with Knox, who’d risen from his barstool, beer in hand, expression stormy. “You sure it was a wolf?” he asked, his voice deep and low like rolling thunder.

I blinked at him as Eliza pulled me into a hug. “I mean, I don’t know. What else could it have been?”

“Eliza,” Knox said, already turning. “Get her cleaned up. I need a word with Rocky.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Rocky.

The man who barely spoke two words to me most days but somehow still managed to make my stomach flip with a single look. He was all hard edges, tight shirts over tighter muscles, with that haunted look in his eyes that said he’d seen things, done things, and wasn’t proud of all of them. He was also sexy as sin and just as dangerous.

“Come on,” Eliza said, pulling me down the hall toward the bathroom. “Let’s clean you up.”

To my surprise, the bathroom smelled faintly of citrus disinfectant. Not to mention it was cleaner than the bar which was a relief. Eliza grabbed a first aid kit from under the sink and motioned for me to sit on the counter.

“You’re lucky,” she said, dabbing at the dirty scrape covering my knee. “That whatever-it-was didn’t finish the job.”

I winced. “Thanks for the bedside manner.”

She gave me a look. “I’m serious. These woods aren’t safe.”

“No kidding,” I muttered. “Look, Eliza… What’s going on? This place, these people, even you. Like y’all are keeping some big secret I’m not allowed in on.”

Eliza hesitated, her hand stuck on my leg. “Bird…”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” I whispered. “I’m your best friend. I saw something tonight I can’t explain.”

Her eyes met mine, full of conflict. “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said. “These bikers keep things close to their chests. Trust me when I say you’re safer the less you know right now. I mean, the way Knox was accused of killing Mark.”

I pulled back, frustration flaring. “That’s not good enough anymore,” I began hesitantly. “There's something... different about this place. About this club.”

She paused, meeting my gaze. “What do you mean?”

I struggled to find the words. “It's just... ever since you got involved with Knox, things have felt off. Secrets. The vibe here is way off. And now, this wolf... ”

Eliza sighed, setting the first-aid supplies aside. “Birdie, we’re talking about a biker club. There's a lot of club business you don't know. And neither do I. I don’t want to know.”

Frustration bubbled up. “Why not? You deserve to know what's going on.”

She looked torn, biting her lip. “I know Knox has secrets. But it’s not like Mark’s secrets. It's not my place. Trust me, we're safer not knowing. And about secrets… What about Brent? Maybe he was trying to give you a scare.”

“Brent is long gone. Left Knoxville when Mark got caught,” I said, bristling at her mentioning him as a secret. Eliza hadn’t liked that I’d been seeing Mark’s best friend after her and Mark divorced, so I’d kept it to myself. That was all. When she found out, I knew more about Mark’s shady dealings, because I’d been seeing Brent, she said I’d betrayed her. It had almost broke our friendship.

“I still think Brent was in on it,” Eliza stated the obvious.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Rocky.

He filled the doorway, shoulders wide, his presence like a thundercloud. His blue eyes locked onto mine, and something twisted in my stomach. Heat. Awareness. Danger.

I wasn’t the type to swoon over every tall drink of trouble that strutted into a room wearing leather and danger like cologne. But Rocky? Lord help me, that man had “bad idea” written all over him in swoopy cursive, and I was just dumb enough to want to read every line twice.

He was tall. Change a light bulb without a stepladder tall. Built like a man who knew his way around a fight and a wrench and muscled in all the right places, down to his drawers. My eyes still wandered down him as he stood there, low-slung jeans hanging on sinful hips. The kind of man you knew could pick you up without breaking a sweat or maybe break your heart just as easy. His arms looked like they could bench press a Harley and then carry you to the altar without spilling his beer.

That sandy blond hair of his was always a mess, tousled like he’d just pulled off his helmet or rolled out of a woman’s bed, and I couldn’t rightly say which image was worse for my blood pressure. His eyes were the color of a summer storm, that sharp blue that made you feel like you were about to be kissed, or even cussed at, and I hadn’t yet decided which one I’d prefer.

He used to play ball for Tennessee back in the day. Quarterback, I’d heard until some injury cut his future short and he decided to chase trouble and women instead. Then he became a pilot. Yep, that’s right. Rocky flew tourists over the Smokies in one of those little helicopters that looked like a mosquito with a motor. And somehow, that just made him more dangerous. There was something about a man who could ride a Harley and fly a damn chopper that screamed emotional whiplash, and yet my hormones refused to listen.

On top of all that, he was Vice President of the Royal Bastards MC’s Knoxville chapter. Which meant he wasn’t just flirting with trouble. He was trouble, dressed in a leather cut and backed by a brotherhood that could burn a town down if you crossed ’em.

As if he wasn’t already walking trouble with a side of “yes, ma’am. ”

Rocky? He didn’t do soft. He didn’t do sweet. Hell, I’ve barely seen him talk to the same woman twice, unless it’s to toss her a wink or a growl. And far as I could tell, he liked his lovers like his whiskey, strong, smokey, and gone by morning. Every time I caught him smirking at some whore in a crop top, I reminded myself he wasn’t for me . I was a pedicure and bubble bath kinda girl, not a knives and motor oil kind of woman.

But damn if he didn’t make me forget that sometimes.

Even when I knew better. Those tattoos peeking out from sleeves that hugged his biceps too well for public safety. And when he looked at me, really looked, and spoke with that gravel-slick voice, I felt every warning my mama ever gave me about boys who made your stomach flip and your brain shut off.

Rocky wasn’t just dangerous.

He was the kind of dangerous that made you feel alive just before he set your world on fire. And heaven help me, I was already warming my hands on the flames.

“Eliza,” he said, voice a gravelly drawl. “Give us a minute.”

“I wanna know what that was. And don’t you dare lie to me,” I bit into him like the big chunk of meat he was.

Eliza looked between us. “You sure?”

He didn’t answer.

She took the hint and squeezed my shoulder on the way out.

The door clicked shut behind her .

Rocky leaned back against it, arms crossed, gaze pinned to me like I was a puzzle he wasn’t sure he wanted to solve.

I stared right back.

“What were you doin’ out there alone?” he growled like an animal.

“I told you. Camping.”

“Alone?”

I bristled. “Yes, alone. I needed space.”

“Not smart.”

I hopped off the counter, anger bubbling up. “Thanks, Dad.”

He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. Just stepped forward, slow and deliberate until we were toe-to-toe. Where I had to look up at him.

“You shouldn't have been out there alone,” he finally said in his gruff tone.

I crossed my arms, trying to mask my unease. “I can take care of myself.”

He took a step closer. I was amazed he could get any closer. “Clearly.”

Anger flared. “I didn't ask for your help.”

He smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Didn't have to.”

I opened my mouth to retort but faltered under his intense gaze. There was something about him, something primal and magnetic, that left me off-kilter.

“Stay away from the mountains,” he warned, snarling. “It's not safe.”

I lifted my chin defiantly. “Why do you care?”

For a moment, vulnerability flashed across his handsome face, quickly masked by his usual stoicism. “Just do as you're told, Birdie. You could’ve been killed.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“Only ‘cause someone, something, intervened.”

There it was. The flicker. A crack in his armor. Like he knew something. Like he was hiding something.

My heart pounded in my ears.

“You’re not telling me everything,” I said.

“Nope,” he agreed, without apology.

I wanted to slap him. I wanted to shake him. I wanted to grab him by that stupid leather cut and kiss him until he forgot how to breathe.

Which was ridiculous. And dangerous. And possibly fatal.

So instead, I shoved past him.

“You think you’re protecting me by keeping me in the dark,” I snapped. “But you’re not. You’re just making it worse.”

I yanked the bathroom door open and stalked out into the hallway, heart pounding, eyes stinging.

Behind me, Rocky didn’t follow.

Good.

Screw him.

Except… not really. Or possibly...in the fun way.

The clubhouse was still alive. I wandered toward the bar, the scrape on my knee forgotten, the ache in my chest harder to ignore.

This place. These people. That biker.

None of them were what they seemed.

And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to run from them…

…or straight into the fire.

From across the room, I spotted Rocky standing near Knox, both of them talking low and intense. Rocky looked up at one point, right at me, and I swear to God, my breath caught. His eyes were all heat and warning, like a storm behind glass.

I looked away first.

“Eliza,” I murmured, slipping beside her again. “What’s really going on here?”

“Bird, you’ve had a fright, is all.”

“What’s up with Rocky? Why is he so grouchy? Why is he acting like some insane park ranger?”

Eliza hesitated again. “He’s not so bad,” she finally said. “He’s not like other guys.”

I barked a humorless laugh. “No kidding.”

She smirked. “Give it time, Birdie. Rocky’s... complicated.”

“I noticed.”

“You scare the hell out of him.”

That pulled me up short. “Me?”

“Yup.” Eliza grinned. “And trust me, for a man like Rocky, that’s saying something.”

I chewed my lip, glancing over my shoulder at him one more time.

He was already looking at me, again.

And I wasn’t ready to admit what that biker did to me.