Page 36 of My Wild Biker

She's standing between Katherine and Sydney looking small and scared and when she sees us her hand goes to her mouth.

I kill my engine and she's running before I'm off the bike. Crashes into me hard enough I stumble and my arms go around her.

"You came back," she says into my chest. "You came back."

"Told you I would."

She's shaking. I can feel it all through her body. Relief or fear or both. I hold her tight and breathe her in and feel the tension I've been carrying since dawn start to ease.

Clint addresses everyone. "Crane's dead. Marrow's done. The war is over."

Quiet celebration. Relief more than victory. These people are too tired for loud triumph. They've been living under this threat too long. But the weight lifting is visible in everyone's faces.

Sydney hugs Clint. Katherine kisses Tate. The other women surround their men and everyone's just grateful to be alive and whole.

I pull back enough to look at Isla. Her face is bruised worse than last night, purple spreading across her cheekbone. The split on her lip is scabbed over. But she's here. She's safe.

"Let's go home," I say.

She nods.

I grab her suitcases from the clubhouse and load them into my truck. She climbs in the passenger seat without asking where we're going. Just trusts me to take her somewhere safe.

The drive to my place is quiet. She sits with her hand on my thigh, and I cover it with mine and we don't talk because there's too much to say and not enough words yet.

Inside, my house is cool from the AC I left running. I drop her suitcases in the bedroom and when I turn around, she's right there.

"You killed him," she says. Not a question.

"Clint did. I killed one of his soldiers. But yeah, Crane's dead."

"Good." No hesitation, no judgment. Just flat certainty. "He sent people to hurt me. I'm glad he's dead."

I look at her. "You mean that."

"Yes. Is that wrong?"

"No. Just honest." I touch her face gently, tracing the bruise without pressing. "How you feeling?"

"Scared. Relieved. Confused." She leans into my palm. "I keep thinking about last night. How they broke into my rental. How you got there in time. How it could've been so much worse."

"But it wasn't."

"Because of you." Her hands come up to grip my cut. "You saved me twice. Last night and by coming back today."

"I promised I'd come back."

"I know. But promises don't always mean anything." She looks up at me and her eyes are bright with tears she's not letting fall. "Thank you for keeping yours."

I don't have words so I kiss her instead. Soft at first because her lip is split, but she makes a sound and deepens it, pulls me closer like she needs the contact to prove I'm real.

We break apart breathing hard.

"I need a shower," I say. "I've got his blood on me still."

"Crane's?"

"And the soldier's. Probably some from last night too." I look at my hands, at the gauze wrapped around my knuckles from Friday, at the blood spattered on my forearms that I didn't notice until now. "Give me twenty minutes."