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He narrowed his eyes. “An incident.”
“Yeah, it was noth—”
“She tackled a drunk guy who was waving around a knife,” Calli sang as she pushed the scrambled eggs from the pan onto a serving plate. “Then she wouldn’t let Matt numb her arm before he stitched it up.” Calli grinned at me, knowing she’d dumped me in the deep end with her overprotective MC president father as she marched out of the room.
Bishop’s eyes moved to the bandage wrapped around my bicep. “You get a name for this guy?”
I was already shaking my head, seeing the cogs turn over in Bishop’s mind. Calli and I had been friends for years but only moved to Detroit six or so months ago after finishing college. In that time, I’d gotten to know Calli’s family pretty damn well.
Her biker family, that is.
The Exiled Eight MC—a one-percent outlaw motorcycle club that lived by their own rules and laws.
While Calli and the club had welcomed me and made me feel like I was part of their family, I was well aware that people outside the club shouldn’t feel as comfortable.
These men weren’t the kind to be fucked with, and I’d seen more than one asshole at the club’s bar learn that lesson the hard way.
I’d always admired Calli’s tenacity and straightforward talk, but it all made so much sense after learning more about how she grew up, especially with a man like her dad.
Bishop. Exiled Eight MC president. A fuck you in human form.
I wasn’t sure if I was the only one who felt it, but the atmosphere that swirled around him always felt thick to me. Being alone in a room with him made it hard for me to breathe, but given how we met, I shouldn’t be surprised.
I trudged up the staircase to the left. The timber treads creaked and groaned with each step. The upstairs hallway wasn’t much better, and my light footsteps sounded like an elephant’s as I headed for the far door, but something caught my eye to the left. I paused.
The door to the bathroom was open, just a crack.
Just enough for me to see someone inside.
He had his eyes closed and was scrubbing at his hair with a towel, his body completely naked. And what a body it was. His shoulders were muscular and chest broad, also covered with a smattering of hair that was slightly gray. My heart began to thump a little faster, heat crawling up my neck and into my cheeks as my eyes trailed a little lower, finding abs that looked like they’d been etched out of stone, with another small trail of hair leading from his stomach to his—
“Who the hell are you?”
My eyes shot up, drawn to the deep rumble of his voice that did little to calm the pounding in my chest. I was met by a dark, narrowed glare so intense I dropped my backpack and stumbled backward into the wall. “Um… I’m…”
He reached for a pair of jeans, yanking them over his legs, which were still dripping with water. He buttoned them as he stormed toward me, slamming his hands against the wall on either side of my head, making me gasp. “Who. Are. You? And why the hell are you in my house?” he growled, with his body pressed against mine. I could feel the water \ on his skin soak through my T-shirt.
I couldn’t speak.
My mouth was dry, and I licked my lips, hoping that would help me find the words I needed to explain. The movement drew his gaze, which fell to my lips while he clenched his jaw. Maybe I should have been scared. Maybe I should have screamed for help.
But I’d been scared before, and what I felt in that moment wasn’t fear.
It was something else.
Something else completely.
“Shay! Are you okay? What’s all that noise?”
“Fuck,” he cursed, instantly falling back at the sound of the stairs moving as Calli climbed them.
“Oh hey, Dad.” She beamed when she reached the top, the concern on her face melting away the second she saw her father.
Her father, Shay.
The naked man you’d just been eyeing.
Who’d just had you pinned to the freaking wall.
