Page 54 of Her Broken Biker
Ace covers my hands for one brief second.
Just a squeeze.
My stomach flips.
The closer we get to Lovestone Ridge, the tighter my chest becomes. The town looks the same as always. Storefronts. Morning traffic. People starting their day like last night did not happen.
Everything is normal.
I am not.
Briggs is still out there.
That thought will not leave me alone.
He knows my face. He knows I saw enough. He knows I can identify the men who stole from the cartel and dragged their mess into my life.
Ace turns onto my street, and my arms tighten before I can stop them.
He slows right away.
His body changes under my hands.
Alert.
Ready.
I point over his shoulder. “The yellow house. Back unit.”
He pulls in behind the old two-story place where I rent my tiny one-room apartment. The bike cuts off, and the quiet afterward feels too loud.
My blue door waits a few yards away.
My basil pot is tipped beside it. Dirt spills across the concrete.
My stomach drops.
Ace gets off first, then helps me down.
His hands stay at my waist until my feet are steady.
“You okay?”
I stare at the door.
“I don’t know.”
Ace follows my gaze. Everything in him goes still.
“Behind me.”
This time, I do not argue.
I step behind him.
We move toward my door with his body between me and the apartment. My tote bumps against my hip as I dig for my keys. My fingers shake through lip balm, gum, my badge, my phone.
Finally, metal.
