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Chapter Five
Razor watched Nat get herself ready. She ran a comb through her hair, and he couldn’t help but notice her fingers trembled a little. She’d been at the hospital for over a week before her doctor declared she could go home.
She had no real place to call home. The moment her mother died, Vulture swooped in like the scavenger he was named for and took her to the Black Dogs MC clubhouse. She still had the trailer where she and her mother used to live. Razor stopped by the place to grab some extra clothes and a few personal possessions Nat had been fond of.
“You nervous?” Razor asked after she turned to face him. He picked up the backpack next to the foot of the bed. It didn’t feel heavy at all. When he made a trip to her trailer, he assured her he could take anything she wanted. Nat only picked the essentials.
She walked up to him, hesitated, then reached for his hand. Razor beamed down at her and clasped her fingers tight. The gesture reminded him of a lost child seeking directions. He was so infatuated, so obsessed with this woman, he’d be whatever she needed. Right now, she needed him to lead, to be her anchor.
He wouldn’t call what they had love, not yet. It was too soon. If his MC brothers could hear his thoughts right now, they’d laugh their asses off at him.
“I am,” she admitted. “We’re going to your clubhouse after all.”
“There’s no need to worry. You’re mine. Whoever gives you shit will have to go through me,” Razor said. He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
Nat blushed. Pink was a good color on her, he decided. They left the hospital and entered the parking lot. Razor didn’t park his Harley far.
“Let me carry that,” Nat said, nodding to the backpack. Razor handed it to her. Next came her helmet. Razor retrieved the spare from the hidden compartment in his bike. He put it on her head and tightened the straps.
Razor didn’t understand it, but he had the distinct feeling he was being watched. He spun, narrowing his gaze as he studied his surroundings. The parking lot was silent, save for a young woman helping her grandfather into a wheelchair.
Phantom eyes seemed to be watching his and Nat’s every movement. Brick had asked Razor if he needed an escort, but he refused. During the week Nat had been committed, Razor half expected Vulture or a member of the Black Dogs MC to make an appearance.
They didn’t. Brick said they probably had better things to do. Vulture might not even realize Nat had lived through his brutal beating.
She touched his arm, looking concerned. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, must be my imagination.” He mounted his bike. “Let’s get moving.”
Nat seemed to know where to position her feet, then Razor remembered she’d been Vulture’s toy. Razor never left her bedside during the entire week, but that didn’t mean she trusted him fully.
She’d been through hell and back again, thanks to one biker. In her eyes, she might see Razor as no different. Did he even have a chance when it came to her? He promised her once this was all over that she was free to live, but he’d lied. He wanted to keep her forever. The moment he saw her serving drinks in that skimpy outfit, fading bruises on her creamy skin, he knew he had to have her.
Unease gathered in the pit of his stomach. There it was again. That feeling of being observed. Razor revved his engine and blasted out of the parking lot.
Behind him, Nat expelled a sharp breath. She wrapped her arms around his waist tightly. Then she let out a whoop. He could feel the press of her breasts against his back, the rise and fall of her chest. Her excitement proved infectious.
Grinning, he sped up. Razor was a careful driver, and he handled his Harley with ease. Nat didn’t need to be the least bit afraid because the last thing he wanted was to get her into an accident.
Razor felt a little better once they sped past the Welcome to Grace sign. Finally, he was back in the Ruthless Reapers MC territory. No one could touch Nat here unless they wanted to incur his wrath. Razor would kill to protect her.
Nat didn’t know how important she was to him, but she would soon. Razor passed through the main town center and headed for Grace’s outskirts to reach the MC compound. He found a parking spot next to the clubhouse and got off his bike.
Nat stood, clutching the straps of her backpack and looking nervous again, but when Razor held out his hand to her, she clasped it.
“Ready?” he asked her.
She nodded, and he led her inside. Since it was midafternoon, few of his MC brothers were present in the bar and eating area. A few of them gave Razor nods, others gave Nat curious looks.
Razor started up the stairs leading to the second floor, which housed their personal quarters. Nat started to look more and more relaxed, much to his relief. Then they bumped into King, and his prez looked pissed off about something.
“Razor,” King said. He glanced at Nat, then returned his attention to him. “Brick mentioned you picked up a lost kitten.”
Nat flinched at those words, and a growl slipped past Razor’s lips. He wasn’t even aware of it. He slid one possessive arm around Nat’s shoulders and pulled her close. He inhaled the scent of her. Clean soap and the light floral scent of her perfume.
“Mine,” he said. “She’s here under my protection.”
“We need to talk. My office,” King said.
