Page 3 of Reese’s Protection

“You think I’m scared of you because you’re all buddy-buddy with a King?” Jeremy snorted, clearly not picking up on the cue to shut the fuck up. He’d never realized how dangerous Knox was. “Jester, right? What a fucking name. That motorcycle club he’s in is full of weird losers.”

“You don’t need to be scared of Jester,” Knox shouted, loud enough for us to hear over the pumping bass from the current song. “But you should be scared of me.” His fist met Jeremy’s right cheek.

Jeremy went flying, and I stumbled as he crashed to the floor. Screams erupted around us. Then, the bouncers swarmed, thicker than flies on shit. Knox held up his hands as they immediately grabbed him.

“No, no! He was protecting me,” I yelled at them. I moved in closer to the men in the black shirts. “Please! My ex-boyfriend is stalking me. Knox helped me.”

One of the bouncers, a stoic man with a bald head and a haunting sneer, narrowed his eyes on me before his attention shifted to Knox. “Man, what the hell are you doing starting trouble in this club?”

Knox shrugged as he grinned at the bald man. “Come on, Dex. I was defending a friend.” He waved toward a groaning Jeremy on the dirty floor—hopefully, grimy from piss and alcohol. “He needed to learn a lesson.”

Dex sighed as he pointed at Jeremy and spoke to the other bouncers. “Get this fucker out of here. Give him the spiel about how he’s not welcome back at Sinful.”

The bouncers hauled Jeremy to his feet, and he groaned, too hurt to fight as they dragged him out of the club. I watched, not quite believing I was still here, in Sinful, and not being carted off to who knows where.

The tension and fear drained from me, suddenly leaving a weakness in my limbs. I was safe now . . . right? My knees shook, but I managed to stay on my feet as I smiled at Knox. “Thank you.”

Knox nodded. “How about we get out of here? I’ll take you back to my place and we can talk?”

I’d go anywhere with him, but I didn’t tell him that. Instead, despite a wobbling chin, I smiled again in agreement.

Dex and Knox shook hands before Knox wrapped his arm around my waist, a lot gentler than Jeremy had been, and carefully led me toward the exit.

2

KNOX TENNANT

It was a cold night, so I’d given Reese my black leather jacket, which hung off him and flapped around as the wind whipped past us on my classic 1975 BMW R90S. My half helmet had been secured under his chin, and I wasn’t sure why, but that was cute, too. I’d put him on the seat in front of me, and I was just able to reach past him to drive the bike without it being an issue.

How the fuck could anyone mistreat an adorable guy who was so delighted with something as simple as a nighttime bike ride? Of course, why did abusers ever do what they did? That was the million-dollar question.

The fact that he kept reaching down to skate his fingertips across my bike’s perfect paint job made me jealous—in a good way. It showed his appreciation for something I loved. I’d kept the original yellow when I’d restored her. He hesitantly rested his hands on my thighs, but that was fine. It would be a huge lie to say I wanted those hands anywhere else but on me. Soft and gentle with long fingers. Yeah, I wanted his touch all over me.

I’d imagined him on my bike a hundred different times, since the first day Layton had introduced me to his new buddy from college.

But it was a mistake to let him too close.

I never let anyone dig in under my skin.

He was already dealing with one lunatic. What if I became Dad 2.0? What if all it took was falling too hard for someone and the same Asshole switch was flipped on in my genes?

Reese was Layton’s friend, younger than me by about five years, and I knew him—but not well. I needed to proceed with caution. The worst thing I could do was scare him after the shit he’d been through tonight. I wasn’t some fantastic guy, but after years of watching my abusive father drive my mother to the edge of sanity—then right over it—I knew what I should and shouldn’t do around someone facing a similar pitfall. Mom had ultimately drunk herself to death, and I didn’t want the same thing for Reese. Even with the tattoos, he radiated innocence.

Tonight, the world seemed like it was eating away at him, and he didn’t know how to stop it.

We’d been doing well with him on the front of my bike, but as I took the turn into my driveway, he clung to my legs. My dick chose the absolute worst time to get interested in what was happening. Gravel crunched under the wheels.

My house wasn’t huge, more of a cottage tucked against the ass-end of the suburbs on the west side of New Gothenburg. Lights glowed above the garage and next to the front door. I hit the button for the garage door that I kept on my key ring, and it slowly went up. I eased the bike inside as Reese continued to cling. The scent of wood shavings hit my nose, along with the garage smell that reminded me of bikes and cars and all the gearhead shit that had been the only good thing I’d ever shared with my father.

In his workshop, he’d been intensely focused on nothing but the work, the art of turning wood into something beautiful. That was the only time the man was at peace.

Reese wobbled the bike a bit as he slid off on my right.

“Easy does it.”

“Uh, yeah.” His quick brown eyes darted all around the room, landing on a small coffee table I was working on for the Kings of Men MC. It was the prize for some contest they were holding for the members, and I was keeping it until someone called me with the name of the winner to carve into it. The club logo—a skull wearing a crown—was in the center of the tabletop, a matching piece to the meeting table in the clubhouse my father had done shortly before he’d died.

Reese practically skipped over to my work as I shut off the engine, knocked the kickstand down, and got off the bike. He unbuckled the half helmet, and I took it from him. Only a few seconds passed as I tossed the helmet on the seat of my bike, but in that amount of time he’d run his hands through his short dark hair, ruffling it up and sending it everywhere. His pale skin gleamed in the harsh overhead light, reminding me of vampires and Victorian gentlemen from some of those shows I kept seeing advertisements for.