The thought of leaving with him, a strange man she didn’t know, and one who was clearly in a motorcycle club, was already making her nervous. If she knew he was a shifter on top of that, he might never get her to leave with him.
And he had to make sure she was safe. He wasn’t sure why he felt so strongly about a woman he didn’t know, but the protective instincts he already had for her were overwhelming.
You want to go back in there and kill the fucker, his leopard said. Trust me, so do I. But we should probably get her out of here before he wakes up and we have to do it in front of her.
His animal was right, but before he could get his helmet for her, she broke eye contact with him, looking around with a frown.
“Where’s your—oh,” she said softly, shaking her head as she eyed his bike. “Oh no. I should have put two and two together. I… I’ve never ridden on one of those before. I’m not sure…”
“We don’t have another option. Don’t worry. It’s perfectly safe.”
Ignoring the disbelieving look she gave him, he grabbed his helmet and held it out to her. She reluctantly took it, pausing as she studied him. “I don’t even know your name.”
“My name’s Bolt,” he replied, dropping his eyes to her name tag and raising an eyebrow as he met her light blue gaze again. “And you’re… Lucy?”
She gave him a half smile as she fumbled with the helmet. “I should let you think that’s my real name, since I know yours can’t possibly be Bolt. My real name is Anastasia. Ana.”
Questions crowded on his tongue, but he shoved them back with all the others he wanted to ask her and helped her put on the helmet. Resolving to ask her later, he cast a quick glance at the store to make sure fuckface was still out of sight, then he turned and straddled the bike.
“Wait until I have the engine started and the bike steadied and then climb on. Don’t be shy about holding on as we leave. As tight as you need to. I won’t drive recklessly, but we need to put as much distance between us and this place as we can before he wakes up. I don’t want to risk him being able to follow us.”
Mouth firming with resolve, she nodded and slung her bag over her shoulder, climbing on when he gave her the okay. Once she wrapped her arms around his waist, he quickly left the parking lot and accelerated down the road.
As he picked up speed, she tightened her arms around his waist, and he groaned at the feel of her pressed against his back. The attraction he squashed earlier came roaring back to the surface, and no amount of beating it back was going to work this time.
He just had to hope he made it back to the clubhouse with his fucking sanity intact.
Chapter Two Hundred Twelve
Ana swallowed hard as Bolt cut the engine. Staring at the clubhouse, she shook her head slightly, wondering how the hell she got here. At what point in her life did she take the turn that lead to here? Sitting on the back of a motorcycle, her arms still wrapped around a huge, intimidating biker, about to go into his clubhouse?
But then, she already knew the answer to that. It was when she met rat bastard Shawn. Her life began disintegrating then, and now here she was at a motorcycle club, either about to die or be saved.
It was anyone’s guess which.
Easing away from Bolt—no way was that really his name—as he twisted and held a hand out for her, she eyed it for a brief moment before taking it. It was a gesture she hadn’t been expecting. From everything she’d heard about bikers, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he just tossed her off the bike.
But then, if everything she’d heard was true, he never would have helped her with Shawn to begin with.
Once she was on her feet, she awkwardly tugged the helmet off, holding it in a tight grip as she watched him stand. He ran a large hand roughly through his black hair as he glanced at her, and she swallowed hard as his hazel eyes locked onto hers.
Butterflies tickled her belly, and she couldn’t breathe as she lost herself in his gaze. When he finally broke eye contact and looked at the clubhouse, she sucked in a breath, feeling dizzy.
But was that because she hadn’t been able to get air to her starving lungs, or because she suddenly realized how attractive he was? Logic said it was because she’d simply needed air, but as she gazed at him, she wasn’t too sure that was the actual answer.
He was huge, dwarfing her with his height, and he was clearly built. He was wearing a tight gray shirt under his leather cut, the sleeves hugging his biceps and mouthwatering forearms. He had full tattoo sleeves down both arms, and they even covered his hands and knuckles—but it didn’t turn her off the way she thought it would. The exact opposite of that, actually. His hair was so black it was almost blue under the bright Texas sun, the long strands almost touching his shoulders.
He glanced back at her, cocking an eyebrow and probably wondering why she was just standing there like an idiot while she clutched the helmet, but the moment his eyes met hers, she was lost in the hazel depths again.
Inhaling deeply, she tore her eyes from his, trying to steady her shaking hands as she held out his helmet. He took it from her and she ran her eyes over the rest of him, taking in his perfectly sculpted mouth and the stubble highlighting his chiseled jaw, before dipping down to his strong legs encased in old denim that looked soft and
