He straddled the bike.
Before getting on, she checked him out. And her heart swelled in her chest. Without question, Tank was the sexiest badass she had ever known. More than her next breath, she wanted to kiss him. Press her mouth to his and let passion kick into high gear.
Instead, she mounted the bike, snaked her arms around his massive torso, and inhaled. He smelled good. Leather and musk… and Tank. Sydney would never have gotten on a motorcycle with anyone but him. His confidence was palpable. It seeped into her soul, and she breathed deep.
He started the bike, looked around, and backed out of the spot. The roads weren’t busy, but Sydney knew that most everyone out there at three in the morning would be drunk.
So that made it that much more dangerous… for them.
As he dropped into first gear, he revved the engine, eased out the clutch, and drove onto the street. She was shocked by the rate of acceleration as he shifted their way to cruising speed. The cold air whipped around her, but his massive body blocked her from getting the brunt of the chill.
They flew down the road. She loved the freedom, the roar of the engine vibrating through her, the night sky looming large over her. She tightened her grip around his hard torso while he controlled the machine with exact precision.
And just like that, she fell even harder in love than she believed possible. She’d been waiting for this side of him. The edgy, angry man who controlled his emotions like a boss. The man of many words, the one who held the Santini family together. The brother who was there for the others was a beast in his own right.
He slowed for a light, stopped at the red. A carload of guys pulled up beside them.
“Heyo, pretty boy,” said the passenger. “You wanna race for the chick? She looks like a good time.”
Tank didn’t look over, didn’t acknowledge they even existed. The light changed green and he waited while the idiots took off like a rocket, fully expecting him to race away. He rode through the intersection as the guys hit the brakes up ahead.
“Hold on,” he called out, the grit in his voice ripping through her.
She tightened her grip, peered around him as he opened the throttle and flew past them.
“Here they come,” he said.
Five guys looking for trouble.
They were still following when he turned into the Great Falls neighborhood that led to the Black Site. When Tank rode onto the dirt road beside the No Trespassing sign he stopped, put both feet on the ground.
“Get off,” he said.
She dismounted.
He dropped the kickstand, unlocked the saddlebag, handed her the SIG, pulled the Walther for himself. “Stand your ground,” he said. “If they see the Black Site, it’s all over.”
She couldn’t believe her ears.
Is he going to shoot these men?
The carload of thugs pulled up. All four windows lowered.
“Hey, darlin’, you need to leave Mr. Pretty Boy for fiverealmen,” said the instigator.
In tandem, she and Tank racked their weapons, aimed them at the men.
“Hit the road,” Tank bit out.
Gone was the light-hearted man she’d become so accustomed to hearing. He was all alpha, all business, andnotto be fucked with.
“Jesus,” said the driver. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Let’s go,” said one of the men in the back seat. “I’m out on parole four days. I don’t need this shit.”
“I’m not leaving without the chick,” said the troublemaker. “I’m gonna fuck her. We can take turns, then toss her when we’re finished.”
Sydney snapped. With her gun pointed at his head, she strode toward the car. “We’re gonna pump you full of lead.”
