Evelyn's dream of securing a scholarship to America's top ballet school shattered when her mother was brutally murdered during her teenage years. Determined to make a difference, she became a detective, ready to take on the world. Assigned to invest...
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The morning was quiet, the sun dragging itself slowly over the horizon, painting the sky with pale gold and blush. The grass on the territory was waking from winter's slumber, the green deepening with every passing moment, dotted with the first brave flowers of spring. Trees trembled with the promise of life, their buds trembling like small secrets waiting to be revealed. Jeremiah stood in the kitchen, the smell of sizzling bacon and brewing coffee filling the air. Sleep had evaded him again last night, his mind consumed with the girl he longed to have by his side forever. Thoughts of reckless choices twisted in his head. He wanted nothing more than to shield her from danger, to keep her untouched by the world's cruelty. The only relief came when he had slipped into her room and held her close, feeling the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath his hand. Even the memory of nearly being shot by the two night-watch bikers, who mistook him for a hitman, could not shake the comfort that had settled over him in her arms. Yet the memory made the hair on his neck bristle and tightened his grip on the wooden bowl in front of him.
"Morning." The voice drifted through the doorway, calm and steady. Jeremiah turned, and the sight of Gunner standing there made his chest constrict. The tall biker's eyes held a gentleness that contrasted with his broad, imposing frame. Behind him, three dogs shifted, sniffing the air with alert curiosity, their eyes reflecting the tension radiating from Jeremiah.
"You look tense." Gunner's voice had no judgment, only observation. He stepped into the kitchen, the subtle scent of leather and earth clinging to him. Jeremiah rubbed his shoulder, letting his hands drift toward the dogs, who came forward with wagging tails and soft, questioning nudges. Scratching behind their ears, he lifted his gaze to meet Gunner's again.
"A little," he admitted, voice low. He handed out small pieces of ham to the dogs, who responded with happy, tentative yips. Gunner's lips curved into a faint smile, softened around the edges of his usually stern expression. He understood what weighed on his friend, the memories of fights, threats, and desperate longing that had carved themselves into Jeremiah's mind. Seeing him care for someone with such fierce intensity stirred something protective and approving in Gunner.
"Are you worried?" Gunner asked, settling into a chair near the counter, eyes fixed on Jeremiah. The other biker rarely spoke more than necessary, but now he offered his presence like a shield.
"Yeah," Jeremiah admitted, voice tight, a sigh slipping past him as he leaned against the counter. His posture sagged, drained of energy, his hand rising to massage the edges of his face.
"We're all looking out for her. She's safe with us," Gunner said, steady, grounding. He had not taken to the girl at first, intruding into their territory and their routines, yet over time, her words and actions had carved a space in his respect, and even affection. Athena had sensed something remarkable in her from the moment they returned from Sweden, and Gunner remembered the soft, mischievous laugh as she commented on the girl's futile attempts to hide. Even if he had wanted to remain indifferent, the affection in Athena's gaze had forced his own warmth to rise.
