Me: I need all the carbs today. Better order some garlic bread with that pizza. Leaving now.
Hatchet: Yes, ma’am! Hopper is excited to see you.
Me: I’m going to kill you in the most painful way possible, resuscitate you, and then kill you again.
Hatchet: Can’t wait. Sounds fun.
In what I assumed was a peace offering, Hatchet sent me another adorable puppy photo. I forgave him. Barely.
Tires squealed as I pulled out of the parking lot. My pulse hadn’t settled from the stress of my job, and my adrenaline spiked when I noticed the luxury SUV with dark-tinted windows trailing close behind me.
My brows furrowed as I watched it in the rearview mirror. That was the kind of vehicle Luca would drive. Sleek. Flashy. Overcompensating.
My gut twisted. I rolled through a stop sign, telling myself I was being ridiculous and paranoid—but the driver didn’t hesitate, gliding right after me.
I switched lanes, cutting down a side street. The SUV followed, pulling back just enough to look casual on the less-busy road.
My fingers fumbled over my phone until I found Hatchet’s name. He answered on the second ring.
“Too late if you don’t want pizza,” he drawled. “Already ordered.”
“I think I’m being followed.”
His tone shifted in an instant. “Where are you?”
I rattled off the cross streets.
“Archer lives over there. Stay on the line. I’m texting him now to see if he’s home.”
I accelerated, watching as the driver carefully matched my speed. “They’re definitely following me.” My knuckles tightened around the wheel.
“He’ll be with you in a minute. Stay on with me.”
The pavement stretched ahead, opening into a quieter country road. For a heartbeat, I imagined Luca behind the wheel, that smug half-smile as he ran my truck into a ditch.
I heard the roar first. A bike cut sharply between my car and the SUV.I let out a shaky laugh. “Archer’s here. And he’s not wearing a fucking helmet.”
“He’ll follow you back. You can lecture him about motorcycle safety later.”
The driver lingered for a second, then veered off into the opposite lane, passing both of us.
I breathed a sigh of relief. “I’ll see you in a few.”
“Stay on with me,” Hatchet rasped. “I need to know you’re safe.”
“I’m fine,” I insisted.
“I know. Just humor me.”
I arrived at the clubhouse with my motorcycle escort to find a group of Mavericks outside. Hatchet held the wiggling puppy in his arms, and Merrick, Thane, and Coast stood beside him, looking like they were ready to go to war.
I parked the truck and killed the engine, my pulse still elevated. I closed my eyes and sucked in a shaky breath, gripping the steering wheel and steeling myself for the army of protective men who’d waited for me. Before I could reach for the handle, Hatchet was already there, swinging the door open.
I rolled my eyes. “I can manage a door, thanks.” I stretched my arms out, already softening at the sight of floppy ears and a wagging tail. “Now, give me that puppy.”
Hatchet handed her over. The little thing immediately launched into licks and tiny whimpers.
“Did you get a look at them?” Thane asked, voice low and gravel-edged.
