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“You said you were picking me up on your Harley,” I say. “I didn’t see us fitting a suitcase on the back of your bike.”
He chuckles and hoists my bag up. “For you, I would’ve made even that happen.”
I love how easy it is to talk to him. I thought maybe it’d be awkward seeing him again after two weeks, but we picked right up where we left off with the last bout of texting. And I think he’s totally serious about making it work. But he’s not talking just about the suitcase.
I just wish the crowd all around us as we make our way out of the station wasn’t freaking me out as bad as it is. I never liked crowds, and I’d grown to loathe them with all my being while Kevin was after me. He loved crowded places best when stalking me because he could hide so much better in them. Even now, when I know he’s still safely locked away, I keep seeing him off the side somewhere, glaring at me with his ice-cold stare, hidden in the shadows, just out of sight.
A guy that looks a lot like him—tall, shaved head, all tatted-up, face, and ears full of piercings—appears out of nowhere by my side, and for a split second, I’m sure it’s him. That he’s about to grab me. That it’s starting again. My heart’s racing, I can’t breathe, and I bump right into Brennon as I try to get closer to him for protection and out of the guy’s path.
By then, I know it’s not Kevin. The guy is already hugging and kissing a tall blonde, but my heart’s still racing, a part of my mind still stuck in the nightmare that was my life just two years ago.
“What’s wrong, Luna?” Brennon asks, concern literally flowing from his eyes.
I shake my head and smile, willing my heart to stop beating so very fast.
“It’s nothing,” I tell him, hoping he won’t notice just how hard it is for me to form words.
“You sure?” he asks, looking around as though trying to find the source of my fear so he can protect me from it.
I wrap my arm under his. “Come on, take me to your bike and then to your home.”
He grins and starts walking again. And in another five minutes, I’m on the back of his gorgeous red Harley, the wind not quite in my hair because he brought a helmet just for me. But his closeness and the vibrating and rumbling of the beast that’s his bike are working wonders to shake away the last tendrils of my stupid panic attack.
The ride’s a short one, and then we’re parked next to a bunch of other bikes in a covered alleyway. The building we’re parked behind is a tall, square one, and out of which, I can hear the voices and laughter of many people.
“So, this is the famous clubhouse you told me so much about?” I ask as I dismount.
“The very same,” he says. “Come on.”
He takes my hand and leads me up to a door, where he inputs an electronic keycode, and then we make our way inside.
I’ve been dying to finally see where he calls home, but now that I’m here, it’s all a little overwhelming. Especially once we’re past the hallways and kitchen area. Brennon takes us into a nearly full room that looks to be a working bar, and about half the people turn to us.
“Hey, Sarge!” a few of them call out.
“Is this her?” a couple ask, and others add. “Not bad. Not bad at all.”
“Come on now, is this any way to welcome the poor girl?” this comes from a gorgeous woman with chocolate brown skin and almond-shaped eyes. It seems to me like she could be the top hen. There’s this way everyone seems to listen to her.
“Seriously, guys, behave yourself,” a voluptuous blonde with a gorgeous smile adds.
“Sorry about that,” Brennon whispers as both the women come toward us.
“I’m Mabel,” the blonde says, offering me her hand. “And this is Kara.”
I introduce myself too.
“Don’t worry, you’ll love it here,” Kara tells me. “All these guys, they’re really just pussycats.”
I glance around the room. “Oh, I highly doubt that.”
That makes both Mabel and Kara laugh.
But I’m not just saying that. Brennon is by far the toughest-looking guy I’ve ever met, but here’s a room full of guys that look just as tough as him. They’re all looking at me with varying degrees of interest. Nothing lewd or uncomfortable. Just interest.
He wraps his arm around my shoulder possessively, and a part of me feels like I’ve just been claimed. I love the feeling.
“Come on, let’s go put your things away, and then I’m taking you out to see the sights,” he says.
