Stephanie Tyler - Vipers Run

Definitely not. “Heathens.” They rigged their bikes loud and obnoxious, and their enforcers were rigged the loudest. “I wasn’t followed.”

“Could’ve been info in Bernie’s office on me. Could just be that they followed her here and they were biding their time, waiting for you,” Tenn said as he drew the blinds, then looked through the side.

“Now you say that?”

“Not like I saw Heathens hanging around the beach. I think I would’ve noticed.”

“Some of them aren’t as sloppy as the others.” He listened again. “They’re three blocks away.”

“You scare me with that shit.”

Hell, this’d been his bread and butter. Still would be, if Preacher would take him back in.

Tenn glanced at him. “You gotta go.”

“I’m not leaving you with this.”

“You’ve leaving with Calla.”

“This is about me, not her,” Cage said.

“I’m sure. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’ve got three assholes to contend with.” Tenn paused. “If they find you here . . .”

“Let them.”

“You’re not up to this. Not with Calla by your side. What’s more important this time—the fight or the girl?”

Tenn’s eyes challenged him, reminding him why he’d come here in the first place. “Both, Tenn. They’re two sides of the same damned coin.”

But nevertheless, he’d pulled his keys from his pocket. “Call Tals.”

“Already did. I’ll let you know what this is all about.”

“You’re going to give them a chance to talk?”

“I’m feeling charitable.” Tenn grinned as he flexed his fingers.

“You know there are more waiting for me to run so they can follow.”

“Counting on it,” Tenn said. “I’m also counting on you outriding them. You always could.”

“I’d rather fight this one than run,” Cage said quietly.

“You think I want to see you fight? You think I can’t?” Tenn asked. “I want to see you get the girl. So get. The fucking. Girl.”

He turned away from Cage, focusing all his energy and concentration on the front door. Calla came out of the bedroom, bag slung over her arm, looking hot in a borrowed black leather jacket of Tenn’s.

“What’s going on?”

“We’ve got to go, Calla.”

She glanced nervously at Tenn, whose shoulders had squared. The energy in the room had changed palpably. The fight was in Tenn. “What’s that sound?”

“Heathens MC.”

“Are they after you?”

“And you.” Normally, he’d stay and fight, not let Tenn take on the burden. But he couldn’t risk Calla, and Tenn knew that better than anyone. And so Cage did what he’d never done before.

He ran.

She paled and he grabbed her, picked her up and walked her out the back door. Took her bag while handing her a helmet, and once she got on the bike behind him, he told her, “Hang on, Calla. That’s all you’ve got to do.”

As he pulled out, he noted the Heathens’ bikes parked in Tenn’s front yard. And where there were three Heathens, more were waiting in the wings. They’d figured that if he’d gotten away, he’d head for the most open road and, fuck it all, they were right.

The bike had the advantage. He slid in and out of truck traffic as Calla held on to him so tightly, her face pressed to his back. He was taking her life in his hands and he’d already nearly taken it away once before.

But there was no choice now. Because saving her, getting her out of this mess was now the only option he had.

He forgot about Calla. Worrying about the girl in the bitch seat was a surefire way to get them both killed. And he could ride the goddamned shit out of a bike better than anyone he knew. And he’d do that now.

He’d ridden for his life before. It took a single-minded focus, and now, with the smell of tar, exhaust and fear swirling around him, the wind rushed madly against his face, battering his body at times, and at others pushing it forward.

His hands tightened around the bars. He had to fight the urge not to clutch the throttle too hard, refused to freeze and make everything stall out.

He couldn’t think when he rode like this. He just had to react. Push forward, refuse to look back, ride like the devil was at his heels and his soul was in question.

Wasn’t it?

And he wove in and out of the lanes, throwing off the men behind them, keeping the few cars he saw on the road out of his drama. The bike danced for him like a pliant but formidable partner.

I held on to Cage tightly and concentrated on not distracting him. My pulse beat a tattoo and I could barely breathe, but the bike wove through the roads smoothly.

We had to be doing close to eighty miles per hour, and eighty on a bike was so different from what it was in a car. My body vibrated so hard I wasn’t sure if I’d break or come, and that had to be the oddest situation I’d ever felt in my life.

The bike swerved as Cage headed off-road, and my body dipped right, the heavy steel horse between my legs powering me along. Saving me.

And at the same time, bringing me right back into the arms of danger.

I heard the roar of the other bikes behind us for a long while, it seemed. And then I only heard the wind and the low purr of Cage’s bike. I didn’t dare turn around, but even though Cage didn’t slow down per se, his body eased. As the bike tore through the dark and dusty roads, I relaxed more into the rhythms of the bike’s movements, found myself leaning when he leaned and rubbing my cheek along his leather jacket.

I was never more aware of the throb between my legs as I was now. It was a throb I couldn’t ignore for much longer, an ache that got more intense the farther the bike seemed to climb in altitude. My sex rubbed against the metal and leather, looking for some kind of relief. I swore I had a mini orgasm at one point, and I was sleepy and turned on and wired all at once, and I swore if Cage pulled over and wanted to take me in the dirt, I’d be helpless to say no.

When he did pull over, he reached a hand back to hold me steady as I got off the bike. My legs were nearly jelly, and he didn’t let go, even as he swung his own leg over. His arm caught around my lower back, keeping me upright and propelling me toward the cabin. He’d parked alongside it, in a lean-to with a canvas cover he pulled down before we walked onto the porch.

“These are seriously creepy woods,” I murmured. “Serial-killer woods.”

He snorted but didn’t argue. The door was open but the low hum of a set alarm comforted me. He hit some buttons, keeping me in front of him, then closed the door and reset the alarm.

Then he flipped on the lights.

Okay, so we were cut off, but there was a bed and running water—I saw a sink—and, hopefully, heat?

When I glanced up at him, I realized I had all the heat I could need. There was a connection, an intense, inexplicable one strung taut between us, that yanked us closer until the electricity crackled.

I didn’t know what to do or say. All I could think of was, “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. You’re going to be with me. You’re mine, whether you’re ready to admit it or not.”

I wasn’t. Instead, I focused on his hands going under my jacket and my shirt, caressing my bare skin. His hands were large, rough and extremely capable, like the rest of him. That thought went straight to my sex. I was already wet for him, and his tongue touched the corner of his mouth for a brief second, lingered there long enough so I could picture it licking me. Spreading my legs and taking me with his tongue, tugging my clit in his teeth . . . making me scream.

God damn, get a grip, girl. “We talked about this, Cage .”

“You’re flushed, Calla. ”