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Frowning, he followed him outside, vaguely aware that Tarun and the Enforcers were following them. They went to the back parking lot and he skidded to a stop in the gravel, barely feeling it when Tarun ran into his back.
“What the fuck?” he hissed.
All of their motorcycles, which had been parked in a row, were lying on their sides—like someone pushed one into another and it started a chain reaction. He heard various exclamations of anger behind him, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away.
Liam gestured toward them. “I took one of the trucks to the grocery store for supplies, and I found them like this. I think they’ll all run, although they’ll have some scratches and dings. But you should go look at yours.”
Feeling his mouth set into a grim line, he strode to where his bike was lying half on Blake’s at the beginning of the row. There was a big X spray painted over the Enforcers logo, and next to it read, I’m coming for you, in bright blue letters.
Fury burned through his veins. Not at the threat, but at what was done to his bike. His ride was everything to him. He had a truck, so he wasn’t without wheels even if it didn’t run, but daring to fuck with his bike was a new level of fucked up, second only to a threat against Tarun.
Maybe that said something about his priorities, but he didn’t care. Fucking with his bike was even worse than trying to kill him, in his eyes at least.
“The fuck,” Damara exclaimed, rushing to her motorcycle. “Okay, this dickhead is taking it too far. Fucking with us physically is one thing, but this is beyond infuriating.”
Tarun’s head whipped between him and the other Enforcers. “Am I the only sane one here? You guys are acting like knocking your bikes over is worse than busting through the front door and trying to kill you.”
Blake’s mouth tightened as he stared at his bike. “Because it is.”
Noah nodded. “A biker’s motorcycle is a sacred thing, Tarun. You don’t mess with our bikes and expect to live.”
“You know,” she began contemplatively after a short silence, “I felt such a kinship with each and every one of you. I thought the MC thing was more like a cover for what y’all do. I realize now that it’s real for you, and that we’re not as alike as I believed. Because I firmly believe someone trying to kill you is more important than knocking your bikes over.”
He glanced over at his mate and felt some of his fury fade, his lips lifting slightly as he took in the seriousness and confusion on her face. She truly didn’t get it, but that was okay. She got him, and that was the important thing.
One by one, they righted their bikes and started them, each one roaring to life with a loud growl. The fucker didn’t permanently damage them, but that was little consolation. Bikes were off limits, and he shouldn’t have fucked with them to begin with.
Tarun cocked her head as she stared at him sitting on his bike. “Maybe I should learn to drive one. Get my own bike one day, even. Maybe I’d understand then.”
&
nbsp; Glaring at her, he shut the engine off and dismounted. “Not funny, babe.”
“Not kidding, babe.”
He growled, the sound coming from deep within his chest. “Not happening. You’re here. You’re staying. You’re even training to fight. I think that’s enough. You can ride with me if you want to ride a motorcycle.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I want to learn. And don’t try to say it’s not for girls. Damara has her own bike.”
Stalking forward, he didn’t stop until his front was pressed to hers. Leaning down, he put his lips next to her ear and whispered. “Think of how it felt the other day. Riding behind me, your thighs pressed against mine, the thrum of that powerful engine vibrating right through your middle. Imagine riding behind me, your arms wrapped around me, your breasts pressed to my back, the wind blowing through your hair. It was almost orgasmic, right? Do you really want to give that up?”
When he eased back, her eyes were wide and hazy, and she swallowed hard as she stared up at him. “Well, when you put it like that, maybe I don’t want my own bike.”
Satisfied, his lips quirked and he kissed her, feeling his blood heat. As much as he wanted to continue—as much as his own words had turned him on—it wasn’t the time. But it’d relieved some of his anger and frustration.
Turning back to his bike, he caught a glimpse of Noah smirking at them. He’d clearly heard Luke’s whisper, and he glared as his friend, watching as Noah rubbed a hand over his face and down his beard, wiping his smirk away.
Damara called to Tarun, and still looking dazed, she walked away. Blake joined him, his face grim as he looked at the bikes.
“We need to find this fucker.”
“Agreed. I just don’t know where to start. I flew under the radar before I joined up with B&B. The only shifter I knew before meeting you was Noah. I have no idea who this could be.”
Blake exhaled, looking frustrated. “I hate just sitting around, waiting for the next strike. I’m used to going after the bad guys—not waiting around on them to attack me and mine.”
“I feel the same way.” Pausing, he thought back to the night before. “When you came in and said the mercenaries were under a gag order, it felt familiar. Like there’s something I know on the edge of my mind. Like I know something about it. But I’ve thought about it almost nonstop and I can’t think of anything that’s similar to that. I feel like the information is there. There’s just something blocking it from becoming clear.”
Blake clapped him on the shoulder. “You know I want you to remember, but don’t force it. Let it come naturally. If you keep trying to make yourself remember, odds are that the info will bury itself deeper.”
