Page 11 of The Biker’s Savage Desire (Chaos Brothers MC #4)

Maci

Main Street smells like pine needles and burnt espresso, which is exactly the kind of small-town aesthetic I’d romanticize if I weren’t currently dodging death. Or at least, I think I am. It’s hard to tell when the guy chasing you looks like he stepped out of a Stetson ad.

I tuck my phone tighter between my shoulder and ear, dodging a golden retriever that clearly owns the sidewalk. “Kera, I’m telling you, he’s not just hot. He’s… dangerously hot. Like, ‘I’ll ruin your life, and you’ll thank me’ hot.”

Kera snorts on the other end. “Maci, you say that about every guy who wears leather and doesn’t smile. You have terrible taste in men. Plus, don’t you still have Nick chasing you?”

“Okay, that’s fair, but this one is different. And Nick… he’s… I don’t know what he is.”

“He’s your boyfriend.”

“Ex. He’s my ex-boyfriend.”

“But he’s still calling you every day, right?”

“And texting and showing up unannounced. Doesn’t mean we’re dating.”

“Right. Well, maybe harassment is his love language. You don’t know that. Plus, Nick was good for you. He had zero red flags, and all he wanted to do was work.”

“Exactly.”

Kera groans. “Exactly what, Maci? He wanted to work? He was stable? He didn’t come with a side of emotional wreckage?”

“I get what you’re saying,” I sigh. “Nick is safe, but he doesn’t make me whole, ya know?

Every second of our lives was filled with tasks.

He hides behind it, avoiding me. I mean, he’d go days chasing chore after chore and forget to kiss me more than a peck.

Not to mention that I kind of think it’s weird that we were together a year, and he never wanted sex.

I mean, I didn’t even have to worry about losing my virginity because he had no interest.”

“And this cowboy,” she says, voice tinged with caution, “he has interest?”

“Pretty sure. I mean, he’s chasing me, remember?”

“Right. All this makes total sense.” Her tone is tinged with sarcasm, but I know she means it with love.

“Look, I’m sure I’m delulu. I mean, I’ve been following him for months, I’ve been prying into his life, and I’ve been annoyingly difficult. The truth is, he probably wants me sleeping with the fishes more than he wants me naked in his bed… but a girl can dream.”

I pass the bakery where the window taunts with cinnamon rolls and these giant bear claws people love around here. I wish I had time to stop for one. I could use a calorie dense snack break from dodging sexy-hot cowboys hell bent on keeping secrets.

My boots crunch against the gravelly edge of the curb, and I glance over my shoulder, not because I’m paranoid, but because I’ve learned to trust my gut, and my gut is currently doing cartwheels.

“Why is this dude so different?” Kera asks, her voice suddenly serious. “Because he’s chasing you? Nick is technically chasing you.”

I nod, more to myself than to her. “Nick chases me because I fit. Because I helped his story make sense. This guy… he chases me like I don’t . That’s hot.”

“Dear Lord, please send help to my delusional friend. She knows not what she does.” Kera’s tone is playful and light, though I know she’s serious.

She’s been worried about me ever since I took on this unhinged hitman story.

A lot of people have. Apparently, it’s not normal to run headfirst into traffic.

Who knew?

I duck into the alley behind the bookstore. It smells like wet cardboard and over sharpened pencils back here, and I half expect a stray cat to pop out of one of the trashcans pressed against the back of the building. “Delusion is a nice place to be. You should try it.”

“Can’t, too busy pursuing things like education, a good career, and a man with a proper job.

” Her tone is tinged with sarcasm, which I love.

Our banter has always been playful. It’s part of why I love our friendship so much.

We don’t have to overthink every word. We just talk and don’t take anything too seriously.

“What good’s an education when you can be hunted down by a sexy hot biker in a cowboy hat?”

“Oh, dear God, there’s no help for you,” she quips playfully, but the levity disappears in a second when there’s a flicker of movement at the end of the alley.

My heart skips, and not in the romantic way. In the fight-or-flight way. I press my back to the brick wall and breathe shallowly. Maybe this chase thing was more fun in theory.

“Maci?” Kera’s voice is tinny now. “You still there?”

I whisper, “Yeah. Just… hold on.”

I bend forward slightly, just enough to see if there really is a man stalking me. There is.

Fuck! There really is!

It’s not Duke, the ultra-hot bad boy I wouldn’t mind being kidnapped by. The guy with the eyes like a wolf and a jawline that could cut glass. That guy could take me any day. I wouldn’t put up a fight.

This guy is young, maybe in his late twenties, a scar on his left cheek, sporting a leather jacket and tight jeans. You’d think he’d be my type, but he’s smiling.

Why is he smiling?

That, and he’s age appropriate, which also means he’s not my type.

Who wants an appropriate age? Blah.

There’s something so hot about a guy who knows what he wants out of life, even if those things are a little gray… or illegal… or both.

“Maci, you okay?” Kera presses. “You need me to call the cops?”

“I’m on Main Street in the smallest town in America. I think I’ll be okay. There are plenty of people out today.”

I peek again. The guy’s gone. Just… gone, like he dissolved into the mountain air.

Okay… maybe he wasn’t stalking me. Maybe he was just a dude, smiling.

I don’t know which is creepier.

I blink, step out of the alley, and rejoin the world of strollers, iced lattes, and people who don’t know they’re extras in my personal romantic suspense.

A toddler screams about a blue popsicle, a woman in yoga pants carries shopping bags toward her Ford, and a guy in flannel plays a banjo on a bench near the bakery like he’s got a stadium full of people watching.

No one looks like they’re about to commit a felony, and no one would get kidnapped on a street like this.

It’s not possible. Someone would notice, right?

I’m halfway through convincing myself I imagined the whole thing when I see him. Not the smiling guy with the scar.

It’s him! Duke!

The monster of a man with unreadable eyes and dark ink streaking up and down both arms. He wears all black with a leather jacket and a Stetson tipped low.

Dear Lord, I could use that prayer now, ‘cause I’m not gonna make it.

I freeze mid-step. My phone is still pressed to my ear, but I’ve forgotten how to speak.

“Maci?” Kera’s voice cuts through the static in my brain. “You still there?”

“Yeah,” I breathe. “He’s here.”

“Who?”

My heart slams against my chest as I stare toward the man I’ve been having fantasy after filthy fantasy about. “The guy. My guy.”

“Oh my God!” She sounds terrified. “You’re insane. Run!”

“I’ll call you back when I’m done with all this. Love you, girl.”

“I’m calling the cops.”

“Don’t. It’s okay. He’s not gonna do anything. Trust me.” I end the call with my friend, who probably has way more sense than me, then do the opposite of everything she suggested.

I don’t run. I walk. Not away from him, but toward him.

Either I’m the dumbest journalist alive or the most committed, and maybe a little turned on. I mean, who wouldn’t be? The man looks like a storm that doesn’t care I brought an umbrella. Like a wild beast looking for a reason to charge.

Who wouldn’t be turned on by that?

He doesn’t move, blink, or shift at all as I approach. He just watches me like a little lamb he’s already taken over, which does all the things to all the parts of me.

“Nice day for a stroll,” I say, smiling widely. Clearly, I get off on poking big, dangerous things.

He tilts his head and smirks, as though he might be amused. “I wasn’t going to come down here. I have five hitmen looking for you right now.”

“Is one of them like five foot nine with a scar on his cheek? I think I just saw him.”

Duke holds the smirk, but there’s something darker behind it now. “Yeah, I pulled that one off a job in Texas just for the occasion.”

“Ah.” I grin. “So, I’m a hot commodity.”

He stares at me, the smirk gone. “I don’t explain myself to rabbits.”

“ Rabbits? I don’t even like carrots.”

“But you’re always running, aren’t you, bunny?” His voice is deep and tangled with gravel. “You run, and you run, and you run, but you don’t get far.”

I smile. I hope he keeps calling me bunny. I like it. “See, you’re trying to scare me, but I’m not scared of big boys.” I step forward and breathe him in. God, he smells good. Like leather and diesel. Like dry dirt and whatever’s in his aftershave.

Masculine. Rough. Wild.

He stares down at me, his voice so deep it rumbles my chest as he says, “Careful, bunny. You go teasing the wrong man, you might not walk away.” He chuckles low, rough, and entirely too sexy for a man who just admitted to sending a small army after me.

I swear the air is vibrating.

He steps closer. It’s just one step, but it’s enough to put my clit on high alert. “So, you gonna make this easy on me, or am I gonna have to chase you?”

I shrug and grin as though his threat is a sexy fun game we’re playing on a Saturday night at home. “I think I might make you chase me.”

His eyes narrow, and for a second, I swear he’s going to grab me. Not to hurt me. No, that’s not his style. Duke’s the kind of man who doesn’t need to raise a hand to make you feel like you’re on your knees.

“You’re not scared of me,” he says, almost like he’s disappointed.

“Why would I be?” My voice is quieter now.

His gaze drags over me like a slow burn. It’s not leering, it’s assessing . It’s like he’s already decided how this ends and he’s waiting for me to catch up.

“You think this is a game?” he groans.

I straighten my back and widen my shoulders, though I’m still no match for the goliath in front of me. “Is it?”

He laughs low and dark, sending a shock of something forbidden straight between my legs. “You’ve been playing games with me for months. Following me around. Spying and writing things down. What were you hoping to find?”

“The truth.”

“You find it?”

“Maybe.” My heart hammers as I speak.

His head tilts to the side, eyes flickering with something unreadable. “I’m going to tell you the rules and you’re gonna follow them.”

I smile slow, sure now that I need more therapy. “Oh, I dare you to give me rules, big guy.”

His jaw ticks, just once. And for a second, I think I see something spark in his eyes, something that looks a lot like restraint. “You’re playing with fire, bunny. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Then tell me. Tell me the rules of the game.”

A beat passes, thick with the weight of unspoken warnings. Then he moves closer, and I swear the air crackles between us.

“Rule one.” His voice is low and deliberate. “You don’t run unless I tell you to.”

My lips part, but no sound comes out.

“Rule two,” he continues, stepping even closer. “You don’t lie to me. Not about anything.”

I swallow, but I hold his gaze.

“Rule three,” he says, and now he’s close enough that I can feel the heat rolling off him. “You pay attention… to everything. You learn.”

“Learn what?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper as my clit throbs against my soaking panties.

He leans in, his mouth hot near my ear as he says, “How to behave.”

And then, before I can fire back something smart or stupid, his arms are around me. One under my knees, the other at my back, and I’m off the ground!

“Hey!” I yelp, grabbing his shoulders. “What the hell are you doing?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he moves like I’m not squirming in his arms. Like I’m not a full-grown woman. Like we’re not on Main Street in the middle of a busy afternoon. Like he’s not a snake that lured me in with sexy talk and a deep, rumbling voice.

“You said you liked games,” he says, voice calm, almost amused. “This is mine.”

“Put me down!”

“Not a chance.”

“I’m not following your stupid rules!” I quip, though deep down I can’t wait to follow every single one.

“Really?” A laugh gets stuck in his throat. “You break the rules, you get tied to the post. I’d love to see a cute little bunny tied up and begging.”

I freeze. Something cold dances down my spine while heat blooms somewhere lower. “You’re kidding.”

He slows his stride, voice rumbling with a wicked promise as he says, “Do I look like I’m kidding?”

And damn it, he doesn’t.