Page 8 of Rough & Ruthless

I let out a winded breath, absolutely positive I’ve scared her away. Cierra nods slowly. "I recognize the survivor look in your eyes,” she tells me. “It takes a lot of fucking strength to leave everything you ever knew behind.”

“Y-yeah. I guess… I guess it does.” I’ve been in survival mode for so long, I never stopped to appreciate what a big step it was to escape that fate.

"Damn right it does. But I have another question. Why did you pick the foggiest, wettest corner of Washington State?" Cierra asks. A small smile tugs at the corner of her lips.

"I saw a job listing for the floral shop," I explain. "It felt like a sign. I just wanted a quiet place where I could grow something beautiful out of all that dirt."

Cierra listens intently to every single word. She leans forward across the bar and places a warm, calloused hand firmly over mine.

"You have survived hard places, Soraya," she says quietly. "Trust is hard to build when you’re used to the ground falling out beneath you. But you need to know something about men like Stryker. They don’t play games. When they claim something, they protect it with their lives. Learn to read his actions, not just his dark moods."

Tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them away quickly. I feel completely seen and deeply validated for the first time in… Well, for the first time.

Cierra gives my hand a firm, reassuring squeeze. She tells me about the donation boxes full of clothes one of the guys keeps forgetting to drop off at one of the shelters, and gives me permission to shop around for whatever looks comfortable. I thank her before she moves down the bar to serve another customer who just walked in.

I sit alone at the bar, tracing the wet rim of my glass with my finger. A newfound sense of confidence settles deep in my chest. I actually feel a strange sense of belonging within these gritty club walls. The dark mysteries surrounding Stryker and his dangerous business still remain. But for the very first time in my life, I don’t feel the desperate urge to run away.

CHAPTER FIVE

STRYKER

The cold wind slices through my heavy leather jacket, mixing with the sharp smell of gasoline and rain-slicked asphalt. The engine shakes and rattles up into my exhausted shoulders, but I push the bike harder anyway. I’ve been dealing with a missing shipment and stolen crates all day and all damn night, and now I’m a growly, impatient man who needs to get back to what he started. I had to leave Soraya immediately after I kissed her yesterday, and the distance is eating me alive.

Cierra teased me before I left to handle the emergency. She laughed right in my face, cracking jokes about the grumpy, solitary President finally falling for someone. Everyone thought I would die alone. She’s right, though. I’m completely possessed, owned by a short, curvy woman with auburn hair and a smile that could melt glaciers.

I pull into the clubhouse lot and dismount almost before the bike fully stops. Rushing to the back door, I force myself to pause before grabbing the handle. I have to collect my thoughts and reign in my darker, primal urges to sweep Soraya up, strip her down, and mark her as mine. But I have to remember that she’s fragile right now. Her entire life just got flipped upside down. I have to tread carefully.

When I can’t wait a single second longer, I rush inside the back entrance and swing open the door to my apartment. The room is completely silent. Empty. It’s more than dark, it’s devoid of the sunshiney woman who has become my singular obsession.

A sudden spike of cold dread pierces my chest. Did she run? Did she think I used her and just left her behind? Panic tightens my throat, making it hard to breathe.

Then I hear it. A faint, melodic laugh echoes down the clubhouse hall. Soraya. Her light, natural laugh breaks right through my spiraling thoughts and I follow the beautiful sound straight to the kitchen.

Leaning quietly against the doorframe, I take in the sight of Soraya and Cierra talking by the counter. Cierra catches my eye over Soraya's shoulder and gives me a knowing wink. She pats Soraya gently on the arm, and excuses herself to go open the bar.

I step fully into the room, unsure how to approach her. A flicker of hurt and hesitation crosses Soraya’s wide hazel eyes, and I hate myself for making her doubt me. Doubt us. I vow to never let that happen again.

Pulling out a chair, I sit closely beside her, capturing her gaze. I stare into those deep, mesmerizing hazel eyes, wanting to wipe away every uncertainty I see there.

"I’m so sorry," I say, keeping my voice low and steady. "I’m sorry it took me this long to get back to you."

She drops her gaze to the table and traces the worn wood grain with her delicate finger. "Cierra said you had club business."

"I had an emergency," I clarify, needing her to understand. "A shipment went missing, and I had to handle it immediately. But I need you to hear me, Soraya."

I reach out, placing two calloused fingers under her soft chin and gently tip her face up. Her wide eyes meet mine, searching for the truth. Jesus, she’s killing me. Her bottom lip trembles slightly, and I realize she’s in just as deep as I am.

"I did not want to leave you," I swear to her, smoothing my thumb across her jaw. The tension there eases slightly under my touch. "I never meant to kiss and run. That’s not who I am, and that’s definitely not how I want to treat my woman."

“Your woman?” Soraya asks, her voice barely audible.

“That’s right. Does that scare you?”

She blinks up at me, then slowly shakes her head no. “I’m not scared, I’m… I guess I’m not used to… all of this,” she finishes.

“The MC life?” I guess.

“Sure, that, too, but I meant… this,” she replies, motioning between us. “Someone caring about me, worrying about me, and wanting to make sure I’m safe. I have Marlowe, my best friend, but… I think…” Soraya breaks eye contact with me, tilting her head down and staring at her hands in her lap.