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Chapter 1
Rage opened the door and stepped into bedlam. What the fuck? Some punk ass kid had Molly pressed against the alley wall. A knife rammed against her throat, as a bead of blood slid down it in the moonlit glow. He dropped the garbage bags and charged the dude. Punk-ass kid couldn’t even hold onto his weapon. His eyes popped wide and white when Rage reached for him.Yeah, fucker. You thought you had a weak ass woman. Now whatchu gonna do? He pulled back and smashed his fist into the kid’s face. Ignoring the crunch of bones and squirt of blood. The kid fell onto the alley’s pavement, but he wasn’t getting off that easy. Rage had earned his name, and he hadn’t proved it in a while. He snatched the asshole up and threw him into the brick wall of the building. Holding him by his neck while his legs bicycled, searching for leverage. He hauled back and hit him again. And was winding up a third time when the mouse squeaked.
“No, God no. Please stop.” She tugged his arm, trying to stop his punch. “He’s just a kid. Please stop.”
“Just a kid, my ass.” He tossed her hand off and gave a gut punch. Aiming for the kidneys. Aiming to give the kid a lesson his parents hadn’t. “Was he just a kid when he pulled a knife on you?”
The mouse went from squeaking to crying. “Please, please stop. I’m okay. I’m okay.”
He shook his head, but she snared his gaze. Like a mouse, only she was the one baiting the trap. Her curly hair fell in disheveled waves around her face. Her shoulders rose and fell in agitated shudders as she panted. She held her shirt together with her fist. The missing buttons freed him from her trap, and he drove his fist up into the kid’s chin. Knocking him out.Dammit, couldn’t even take a sucker punch.How was he gonna make it in juvie? Now he didn’t have anywhere to vent his anger. ‘Cause no matter how much the punk deserved it, even in a rage, he wouldn’t kick a man who was down. He looked at the motionless body, down and out. He turned to her again. “You sure you’re alright?”
Her shoulders shuddered again, her knuckles were bone white as she death gripped her shirt. Molly’s eyes traced the sidewalk, but she squeaked out a response. “I’m fine. Th… thank you. I’m alright. He didn’t…”
Hell, maybe hewouldkick the kid. All the work he’d put into gaining her trust and now she couldn’t even look at him. If she wasn’t here, he would throw back his head and rage at the sky, but he didn’t want to scare her more. “You want to call the police, or you want me tohandle it?” She drew in a sharp breath and took a shaky step back. Finally, meeting his eyes with her wide-eyed ovals. Shaking her head. Shit, he’d slipped up. But hell, he’dhandledsituations like this before. He had zero problems with making a punk who would attack a woman, disappear. But this was civilian life and civilian rules. “Yeah, uh, call the police. I’ll watch him.”
Gorgeous brown eyes darted to the back door of her coffee shop. She took a step towards it and then turned around. “You’ll just watch him, right?” She looked at the kid and then back at him. “You won’t, um,handle it?” He arched his brow and folded his arms across his chest. He wasn’t promising a damn thing. “Okay. I’ll get the police.” She looked at the kid again. The tremor in her voice replaced by grit. “I’ll be right back.” He cocked his head as she scurried away intoCoff-Tea Cups. More worried about saving a punk ass kid than getting justice
He hated dealing with cops. Hated it. But she insisted. She should have let him handle it. It took an hour and a half to get rid of them. They’d looked a little deeper because of him. Dumbass questions about why he was in the alley. Did they think he’d been in on it? Questions about his past involvement with the law. What did that have to do with anything? They should hand him a medal for doing their damn job. But no, for a minute they’d seemed like they wanted to take him in. Then he would have beat the kid some more just for the aggravation. But the mouse had come to his defense. Shutting the shit down like a true old lady. His chest had puffed a little when she glared at them. Defending him, saying the kid had fought back, and that’s why he was leaving on a stretcher. Not exactly true, but watching her lie was worth it. Rosy color flooded her latte skin like a sunset rising over golden sand. She wasn’t a good liar, but since she didn’t have cameras installed, there was nothing to dispute her statement. The police had given them both hard looks before they left. He gave a half-grin over her head. They couldn’t do shit to him without her cooperation.
She stood up, taking off the jacket he’d draped over her shoulders. He’d put it there when she’d started shaking. Shock, numbing cold, was the first sign. But damn, if it didn’t look like it belonged. No one got to wear his jacket, not since he first received his patch. But for some reason, it fit her. Like he’d claimed her. Why did he even want to? He’d been trying to figure it out for weeks. She wasn’t his type. He liked a hard body, hard attitude babe, who rode him as rough as he’d ride her. He didn’t do soft. Shit, no. But she’d drawn him like nails to a magnet. He’d remind himself that she wasn’t his type, but then he’d pass her shop on the way to Skin Sins. And next thing he knew, he was inside. Every damn time. Staying away didn’t help, not when thinking about her kept him up at night, hard as those same nails. He enjoyed talking with her, even small-talk. And he wasn’t a small-talker. But when he was around her, he was as corny as the next guy. Commenting on the weather, town gossip, hell, anything to draw her out. Steal a bit of her time. And now, damn, her eyes were welling even as she showed him the door. “Thank you, again.”
She needed to stop thanking him. “It was no problem. Anybody would have done the same.”
She blinked, holding tears back, and whispered. “Not so sure about that, Michael.” He winced at the rusty sound of his real name. He’d given it to the police and now she was using it. Deflecting. Good move. “I was yelling pretty loud and I’m sure a few people passed on the sidewalk, but nobody stopped.”
When he’d first started riding. The Roarers had been the most terrifying beasts on the road. No rapes or sex trafficking, but they’d done a lot of damage just the same. But even then, not one of them would have kept walking. Sometimes, it seemed the whole world had gone to shit. He couldn’t even watch the fucking news and he didn’t try. “Yeah, well, people suck sometimes.”
Molly raised a hand to the scar on her face. A move she often made when he came in to order coffee. She’d rub her hands along the pink ridge and bumps that ran from her right temple along her hairline and ended at her cheekbone. Sometimes they’d start talking and she’d forget not to tuck her hair behind her ear. But as soon as she remembered, she would release it and let the curls fall over the scar again. Hiding behind the glossy curtain while she made his drink. Like a mouse, hiding in shadows and scurrying away. “People suck.” Her soft voice declared what he knew too damn well. She bit her lip and shivered.
“Molly, do you have anybody to come over and sit with you? Maybe hang out for a while. Sometimes it’s hard to handle…”
She shook her head. Her small face lost in the frame of her heavy hair. She didn’t look much older than a kid herself. Why the fuck was she alone? “There’s nobody in Stone’s Throw. But I’ll be okay. I’m…” She broke off and her eyes skittered across the floor. As if she didn’t know what she was.
“Why don’t we do this? I’ll wait while you lock up.” Her shoulders tensed and she stepped back, shaking her head. His palm swallowed her chin when he caught it, holding it steady. Forcing her eyes up to his. And repeated. Using his,I’m Rage, the big bad biker,voice. “I’ll wait. You lock up. Then I’ll walk you upstairs. You stay in the apartment above the shop, right?”
“Yes, but…” Her chin wobbled in his hand. Protesting or breaking down?
“No buts.” He tried the eye trap thing and hell, it worked. He held her gaze in a firm grip. “After you’re locked up tight. I’ll go get us a pizza. Maybe pick up a couple of movies from Redbox.”
“I…I, you don’t have to do this. I’ll be fine.” Molly squared her shoulders and took her chin out of his hold. “You don’t have to feel sorry for me. I’m okay on my own.”
“Well then, how ‘bout you feel sorry for me? I just beat up a minor. How do you thinkIfeel? Maybe I need some hand-holding.”
She arched her brow. The clock ticked off seconds while he waited for her to call him on his shit. When her shoulders sagged, and she huffed out a, “fine”. He almost blew it by smiling. But instead, he nodded and turned towards the door. Motioning her out. “Okay, good. Let’s get going. I need to hurry. I probably shouldn’t be alone for too long…” She sighed again, but this time her lips curled up and a half-smile broke across her face. And dammit, now he needed someone to holdhishand. Her smile rocked him. It was just a slight quirk of her lips, but it shook him to the core. Damn.
Chapter 2
Rage shook off the kitten, winding itself around his legs. Lord, why was she always having to rescue small things from the giant? And Lord, why had she agreed to this? Oh, that’s right, she hadn’t. He’d invited himself over and she’d been too stunned to object. Maybe the blow to her head, when the kid slammed her into the wall, had affected her more than she thought. Thank God, she hadn’t mentioned it to Michael,Rage. Or she’d probably still be in the hospital. He was so over the top about safety. No wonder he didn’t have a woman, or at least she didn’t think he did. Whenever he’d come into the shop, he’d been alone. She’d taken to watching him when he left his shop at night. Always alone or with some of the other bikers. She’d clean a table by the window so she could watch him leave.Stalker much.Nine times out of ten, he caught her. As if he knew when she was looking. Or maybe he was watching her. How many times had she caught him looking through the glass? As if he’d been waiting for her to acknowledge him before he continued on with whatever he was doing.
“Azriel, no. Down.” She couldn’t really fault the girl for trying to climb his leg. When you had legs like tree trunks, what was a cat to do? She kind of wanted to climb his leg herself, but she knew better than to think he’d be interested in her. So frustrating. She was about to be slid ever so delicately into the friend zone. Especially now that he’d rescued her. Maybe she’d also be in the victim zone. Was there such a thing? Nope. She wouldnotbe in the victim zone. No way, she’d make that clear tonight. She didn’t want to be his friend, but she’d accept it. But victim, no. She’d never played the victim, not even when life had pressed down on her hard enough to flatten a brick into a postage stamp. Taking everyone who mattered or cared.
“Is this your cat?” Rage shook his leg again, but the kitten was holding tight.
“No, but…” She took the pizza from his hands and rushed into the kitchen. Calling over her shoulder. “Just a minute, let me get her something to eat.” She trudged back to the front door. Azriel leaped down the minute she saw the bag, meowing like crazy.
“I thought you said she wasn’t yours?”
“She’s not. But she somehow found her way up here and now she won’t leave. I let her stay once, and that was it. But now…”
