Page 5 of Claimed By Lock

"Don't mention it."

She's still looking at me. I'm still looking at her. The noise of the rally fades to a dull roar around us, and the rest of the world goes soft at the edges.

Up close, she's even more striking than she was from across the fire pit. Those eyes — dark brown, almost black in this light — still blazing with the fire she threw at Colt. She's beautiful and she's pissed off. It's a hell of a combination.

Something passes between us. I feel it land in my chest and take root, spreading through me like heat, like recognition, like something I don't have words for.

Well, shit.

"I'm Lock," I say.

"Josie."

She doesn't offer her hand. Neither do I. We just stand there, two people caught in a moment neither of us expected, the rally pulsing around us like a heartbeat.

Music and laughter and the rumble of bikes. The crackle of fire pits and the smell of smoke. None of it touches us. We're in our own pocket of stillness, our own bubble of quiet.

And I'm not ready to leave it.

Not yet.

CHAPTER 2

JOSIE

My hands won't stop shaking.

I notice it while I'm standing there, staring at this stranger who just made Colt back down with nothing but a look and a few quiet words. My fingers are trembling against my thighs, and I can't decide if it's adrenaline from the confrontation or something else entirely — something to do with the way he's looking at me.

Lock.Even his name sounds solid. Immovable. Like something you'd break yourself against if you tried to move it.

He's bigger up close than I realized. Taller. Broader. Thick shoulders, strong arms, hands that look like they've done real work. His face is all sharp angles and hard lines, dark eyes that don't give anything away. Handsome, but not in the pretty-boy way Colt always tried to be. Rougher. A face that's been lived in. It shouldn't appeal to me at all.

It does anyway.

Stop it.

"You need anything?" he asks. His voice is low and even, the same flat calm he used on Colt. "A ride out of here?"

"I'm fine." The words come out automatic. Defensive. "I'm here with my cousin. Maria."

"I know."

My eyebrows rise. "You know?"

"I notice things." A flicker crosses his expression — there and gone. "It's my job."

"Your job." I glance at his patches, reading them properly for the first time. Sergeant-at-Arms. Sons of Ruin. The skull and flames logo on his back. "So you're the one who handles trouble."

"Something like that."

The silence stretches between us. I should thank him again and walk away. Find Maria. Get out of here before Colt decides to come back with reinforcements.

But my feet won't move.

There's something about Lock — patient, unhurried, like he's got nowhere else to be. He's not crowding me. Not pushing into my space the way Colt always did, the way most men do when they think they've earned something. He's just... present. Solid. Waiting.

"He's going to cause more problems," I say instead of leaving. "Colt. He doesn't take no for an answer."