The woman whipped around, then froze as she spotted him. The exhaust from her bike still had him nose blind, but her posture screamed of fear.
Without saying a word, he crossed over to the open bay door and pulled it shut. Until he figured out what—or whom—she was hiding from, and why, he wouldn’t send her packing.
Striding to the waiting room they used to keep customers out of their hair while they worked, he flicked off the lights. The other bike had come to a stop in the driveway and was idling there. Leaving the lights on would only create suspicion.
He glanced at the woman. She’d backed into a corner, out of view from anyone who might try peeking through the tiny windows. She needn’t have worried. They were so caked with dirt and grime that no one would see inside. With a nod, he closed the door behind him, leaving her in the dark.
Niko took his time locking up, using those precious few seconds to assess the threat. A cool breeze blew, carrying the harsh smells of oil and exhaust. Another few minutes, and he’d be able to use his nose again.
In black and chrome, the BMW K1200S was a sight to behold. Had it been one of his pack mates straddling that bike, he’d have tossed him off and gone for a spin himself. It was too showy for him but still pretty. The big man sitting atop it, not so much. He lifted his visor. His red, bloodshot eyes said one thing. Mess with me, and you die. The sharp tip of his fangs protruded from beneath his top lip, announcing him for the bastard he was. Vampire.
Niko shuddered in disgust.
“Did a pink bike come through here?” the man hissed the question through clenched teeth, his eyes watering as he squinted at him. The sun was almost gone, but not quite. Exposing even that bit of skin to the waning light had to hurt like a bitch.
“Came ripping through a minute ago. Was gunning it hard. Most likely heading out of town to the interstate,” Niko lied, pointing the way.
A muscle ticked next to the vampire’s left eye, then without saying anything more, he flipped his visor down and shot out of the yard, sending gravel spraying behind him.
Dumbass. The vamp had just covered the tracks that would have shown him exactly where the woman was, had he been smart enough to look down.
Two
Rylee waited right where the man had left her. There was no mistaking that he’d assessed the situation and decided to play along. At least, for now. The only light left shining was the one leading to what she assumed was a waiting area for customers. Had it not been for the plexiglass window on the wall next to the door, she wouldn’t have been able to see a thing.
The rumble of the motorcycle had her heart pounding. If the vamp had figured out she was there, it would rip that man’s throat out and then come looking for her. She held her breath, not releasing it until the engine revved and gravel spattered against the garage door.
A long workbench with tools scattered over the top lined the back wall. The smells of oil, metal, and exhaust clung to the air even though an industrial fan did its best to suck it out. It wasn’t fancy, but it would do. If she were lucky, she could convince the owner to let her hang out until morning. She doubted there’d be a soft surface for her to sleep on, but she’d slept on a cement floor before. She’d survive. At least there had to be a bathroom in here somewhere. As much as she enjoyed roughing it from time to time, she appreciated indoor plumbing.
She took a deep breath. Might as well be ready with a killer smile. She’d stand a better chance if she softened the guy up right from the start. Tugging her helmet off, she shook out her hair, letting the long strands free, before hanging her helmet on the handle. She caressed the cool bike like a lover playing her man’s body. Her fingers stroked the pink fuel tank before sliding over the soft leather seat, still warm from where she'd been straddling it moments before. From what she could tell, it hadn’t suffered any damage during that wild ride.
“Care to tell me why a vampire is chasing you?”
She jumped back at the deep baritone only a few feet from her. How the hell had he snuck up on her like that? Part of the reason she was so good at retrieval was that she never missed a damned thing—like a grown ass man coming into a room.
One dark eyebrow quirked up as he crossed his arms over the vast expanse of his chiseled chest. The gray Beatles T-shirt covering it did nothing to hide his form, something she appreciated. The sleeves barely contained the bulging muscles as he flexed. Yummy with an extra helping of caramel sauce.
He took a deep breath and froze mid-step. His nostrils flared, and he narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked.
A second later, his momentary pause forgotten, he came closer.
“You can call me Kate,” she said, resisting both the urge to back up and the need to get closer.
“I could. But I asked for your name.”
He didn’t stop until no more than a foot separated them.
Swallowing what little saliva she had left, she looked up at him. She stood five-foot-six—an extra two inches added for her boots—and he was still at least six inches taller. “Rylee,” she croaked out, shocking herself with the admission. She’d meant to say, “Kate,” hadn’t she?
“That’s better. Now, why don’t you tell me what’s going on so we can get out of here before that vampire
