Page 3 of My Single Dad Biker

"Good."

They leave. Not running but close.

They head for a car at the far end of the lot and within seconds they're gone and I'm alone in the parking lot with a stranger who just saved me from something I don't want to name.

He turns to look at me.

Late thirties. Hard angles to his face, dark hair cut military-short, strong jaw, eyes that are light brown with flecks of gold.

There's a scar through his left eyebrow that's old enough to have faded to white. He's maybe six-one, broad-shouldered, built solid like someone who works with his hands. Not bulky. Controlled. Strong.

He's looking at me the way someone looks when they're checking for injuries.

"Are you okay?"

I nod. My voice isn't working yet.

He steps closer, not fast but careful. "Did they touch you?"

"No."

"Did they say anything else?"

I think about the way the tall one was looking at me. The way they were positioning. "Just that I should go back inside."

He's quiet for a second and I watch something shift in his expression. Like he's reading what I'm not saying.

"You're a teacher here?"

"Yes. Music."

"Do you have your phone?"

"It's inside. I left it when I—" I stop. When I came out here alone without thinking.

He looks at the building, then back at me. "Keys?"

I hold them up. My hand is shaking badly enough that the keys are clinking together.

He holds out his hand. "I'll unlock the door."

I should say I can do it myself. I put the keys in his palm instead and his fingers close around them. I notice his hands for the first time. Scarred across the knuckles. Broad and capable and currently holding my keys like they matter.

He walks to the back door and I follow. He tries the first key, then the second. The lock turns. He pushes the door open and holds it, waiting.

The hallway feels safe in a way it didn't ten minutes ago. Too bright after the parking lot but safe.

My classroom is at the end with the door still open, sheet music scattered across the floor where I left it.

He follows me in and closes the door behind us. Locks it. Then he hands me my keys.

"Those men," I say. "What did they want?"

He looks at me for a long moment before answering. "Not the truck."

My stomach drops. "Oh."

"You're safe now."