Page 38 of Texting the Wrong Bikers

I blink, taking a second to process who he means, then turn to look at Kane. “Trigger?” I ask, cocking a brow.

The blond guy bursts out laughing. The scarred one lowers his head slightly, as if he’s hiding a smile. Even the broad-shouldered one’s mouth twitches.

Kane narrows his eyes at me. “You got something to say, sweetheart?”

I bite my lip to keep from laughing. “Your biker name is Trigger?”

The blond one outright loses it. “I knew you wouldn’t have introduced yourself as Trigger.” He holds out his hand, and the others reluctantly hand over some cash, which he pockets triumphantly.

Kane mutters, “I’m surrounded by assholes.”

“It sounds like the world’s most concerning cowboy stripper name,” I admit.

The blond man nearly chokes on his beer. The scarred one laughs softly under his breath.

Meanwhile, Kane pretends to be deeply offended. “Cute,” he says flatly.

“It is kinda sexy though,” the blond one offers helpfully.

Kane points at him. “You’re done talking.”

The blond guy grins shamelessly before standing and holding out his hand toward me. “I’m Dash.” His grip is warm and firm; he lingers just slightly too long before letting my hand go. Flirt.

The broader, bigger man stands next. He’s almost as tall as Kane and has the kind of naturally broad, muscular build that makes me think he must have played football when he was younger. “Chief.” His voice is lower than I expected, with a calm yet rich tone that wouldn’t be out of place narrating an ASMR channel. It’s an undeniably sexy, masculine voice. He shakes my hand firmly, eyes steady on mine in a way that makes my stomach tighten.

God. I understand women who like a ‘Daddy’ significantly better now.

Then the scarred one rises last. “Shadow.”

Up close, he’s startlingly attractive, the scar only enhancing his handsome features. There’s something unsettling about how quietly observant he is, as if he notices every tiny reaction on my face.

Kane gestures lazily. “Guys, this is Sadie.”

All three men look entirely too pleased to hear my name.

Then Kane adds, “And her son Owen is playing outside.” He points to the window where we can see Owen still merrily playing away on the swings.

Dash immediately lights up. “The thunderbike kid?”

I blink. “How do you know about that?”

Dash pauses exactly half a second too long. He grins easily, recovering quickly. “Trigger talks about him nonstop.”

A flush crawls up Kane’s cheeks. Interesting. Kane ignores him, expression turning more serious as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the folded note. “There’s a reason why I brought Sadie here. Last night, when I arrived at Sadie’s place, her ex-husband was there. They had a…” He clears his throat. “…Disagreement, and he left. This morning, we found this shoved under the door.”

The mood shifts immediately. Dash’s grin fades. Chief’s eyes sharpen. Shadow goes completely still. Kane drops the paper onto the table. Chief unfolds it first. The second he reads it, something cold settles across his face.

Dash reads it over his shoulder and mutters softly, “Shit.”

Shadow’s eyes lift toward me. Not the note. Me. When he reads the note, his gaze returns to me, steady and focused, as if he’s checking whether I’m okay without asking directly.

Chief folds the paper carefully. “The ex-husband?”

Kane nods once. “That’s my guess.”

I cross my arms. “I already told him Ethan wouldn’t do this.”

Dash raises an eyebrow slightly. “You sure?”