Chapter 2

2

LUKE

M y mind keeps wandering back to the events of the previous evening as I pull the Harley Night Train out of the bar parking and start heading home. Emma is the only thing on my mind. A girl I talked to for less than a half hour. Sure, she's beautiful, but it's more than that. There's something about her that draws me in, a spark of intelligence and wit beneath the surface, and a vulnerability that makes me want to protect her.

As I ride through the streets of Stonebridge, memories of our encounter flash through my mind. The way she blushed when she asked for help. The way her eyes lit up when she smiled. The way she trusted me, even though we'd just met. It's been a long time since I felt a connection like this, and I'm not quite sure what to do with it.

When I arrive back at the Iron Guardians clubhouse, the others are all gathered in our bar, the Forge, drinking beer and shooting the shit. I make my way over to the bar, grabbing a cold one before joining them at the table.

"Luke, my man," Gunnar says, clapping me on the back as I sit down. "How did patrol go tonight? Did you scare the shit outta any college kids?"

"Nah, I took it easy on 'em," I joke. "Only gave one a heart attack."

"You're getting soft in your old age." Gunnar laughs. "Next thing you know, you'll be knitting blankets and helping little old ladies cross the street."

"Fuck off, man," I retort, grinning. "You're barely younger than me."

After a few more beers, the conversation shifts to something else. We talk about the latest club business, and someone mentions a recent rash of petty thefts happening in town.

"Sounds like some neighborhood kids looking for trouble," I say, shrugging. "They'll probably get bored and move on soon enough."

"Let's hope so," Gunnar replies. "The last thing we need is a bunch of thugs messing up the streets."

Later that evening, the other members start trickling out, leaving me alone at the bar. I'm still nursing a beer, lost in thought, when Gunnar sidles up next to me.

"Something on your mind, Luke?"

"Nah, just thinking about the club," I lie, not wanting to admit that I'm still preoccupied with Emma.

"You sure?" Gunnar presses, seeing right through my bullshit. "Because it seems to me like there's something else going on."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm not blind, man." He chuckles. "I can see how distracted you've been today. Something's got your attention, and it's not club business."

I sigh. "Fine. I met someone tonight."

"Really?" Gunnar's eyebrows shoot up. "Someone from around here?"

"No, she's a student at Stonebridge University," I say, taking a swig of my beer. "She asked me to walk her home, and I don't know. There's just something about her."

Gunnar nods, understanding dawning on his face. "Ah, I see. And now you're stuck thinking about her, wondering if you'll ever see her again?"

"Basically, yeah." I shrug. "She said she lives on campus, so I'm probably never gonna run into her again. Not that it matters, anyway. She's way too young for me."

"What's the harm in trying?" Gunnar asks, unconvinced. "If you like her, you should go for it. Age doesn't matter when it comes to true love."

I elbow him, laughing. "True love? Come on, man, I barely know her. It was just a brief interaction."

"But it made an impression on you, didn't it?"

"Yeah, it did. But like I said, she's a student, and I'm a forty-year-old biker. What could we have in common?"

"You don't need to share everything to enjoy each other's company," Gunnar says.

"Maybe," I grunt, uncomfortable. This is not how Iron Guardians talk to each other, but it's just Gunnar and me. And he seems particularly nosy tonight, which I admit is nothing new.

"Luke, you're thinking too much." Gunnar laughs. "There's no guarantee that things will work out between you, but you'll never know unless you try. And besides, age is just a number. If you click, it doesn't matter."

"Thanks, Dr. Love," I grumble. I consider how much to share with Gunnar, how on a primal level I already know Emma belongs to me. How I've been trying to reason with myself that what I'm feeling is out of line, but I can't help it. I want her, and when there's something I want in life, I fucking get it. This is just the first time it's been a woman.

And God, what a woman she is.

"So what does she look like?" he asks, and it almost pisses me off. I don't want to share Emma with anyone, even if it's just describing her.

Ah, hell. What's wrong with me? This is my crew. No one would try to take a girl out from under me.

Still, I'm not going to give Gunnar the full rundown of the most gorgeous fucking girl I've ever seen, either.

"She's hot as hell," I tell him, keeping everything as vague as possible while I conjure up a vision of her in my own mind.

Emma is more than hot. When one of the other guys I had been on patrol commented that some girl was touching my bike, I hadn't expected the entire world to shift beneath me the second I laid eyes on her. It was like getting hit with a shotgun shell the minute she looked at me, and I couldn't stop reliving the moment.

The looks don't hurt, though. That blond hair I can imagine gliding through my fingers. Those soft, plump lips that would feel so good wrapped around my cock. And her body … Christ, she's petite, but her curves are just enough to tempt a man who knows how to handle them.

I can't stop thinking about her. About what she said, how she smiled, her emerald eyes, her trust and openness. That damned mysterious connection.

"So, you like her."

"Yeah," I confirm. "I like her."

"Then what's the problem, man?" Gunnar asks, sounding frustrated. "Why are you trying so hard to talk yourself out of this?"

"Because she's a fucking student," I retort, losing patience. "She's young, and she has her whole future ahead of her."

Gunnar snorts, giving me a slap on the back before standing up. "Whatever you need to tell yourself, buddy. I can see it on your face that you're just spouting bullshit. You know good and well you're going to go and get that girl."

He walks away before I can respond, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a half-finished beer. I stare at the bottle, considering his words. Is he right? Am I just making excuses not to pursue Emma?

As the night wears on and the alcohol wears off, I find myself cycling through the same doubts and desires again and again. Hours pass, and I'm fully sober by the time I pull my helmet over my head and make the 45-minute drive back to my property. As the only competent mechanic within 2 hours of Stonebridge, I do pretty damn well for myself, but when I bought the property with the attached garage so I could live and work on the same land, it had been with the intention of one day starting a family.

But it's been years, and the large two-story feels pretty empty with just me in it. Still, only having to walk three minutes from my front porch to work is convenient as hell.

I park the bike in the garage, taking a deep breath of the crisp night air before heading inside.

The house is dark and quiet, and I make my way through the familiar space on autopilot. I strip off my clothes and toss them in the hamper, then step into the shower to rinse off the sweat and grime from the day.

As I stand under the hot spray, I find myself thinking of Emma again. I wonder what she's doing right now, if she's safe and warm in her dorm. I hope she's sleeping, getting some rest after a long day at school.

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Jesus Christ. This girl is barely an adult, and here I am, worrying about her like she's already my woman.

Still, it doesn't stop me from imagining what it would be like to have her here with me, sharing this shower, her soft skin pressed against mine. I groan, feeling my cock stir at the image. Fuck. I'm really losing it, and we haven't even touched yet.

I reach down, wrapping my hand around my growing erection. Maybe a little relief will help clear my head.

I start stroking myself, letting the water cascade over me as I picture Emma's slender figure, her gentle curves and smooth skin. I imagine her standing in front of me, her hands roaming over my body, exploring my muscles. I can almost feel her touch, featherlight and teasing, driving me wild with desire.

I speed up my movements, pumping my shaft with increased urgency. I can't help but think what it would be like to have her submit, to spread her legs for me, and let me have her any way I want. Would she be shy and submissive or would she surprise me and take control? Either way, the thought of claiming her, of marking her as mine, is enough to send me over the edge.

I come hard, spilling my release into the stream of water, my heart pounding. I take a deep breath, steadying myself against the shower wall. She's under my skin, and I'm not sure what to do about it.

But one thing's for sure—I need to see Emma again. Even if it's just to satisfy my curiosity, I need to know if the spark between us is real. And who knows? Maybe she feels the same way.

As I dry off and crawl into bed, exhausted from the day's events, my last thoughts before drifting off to sleep are of Emma.

In the morning, I'll go and find my girl.

The next day, I'm up early, eager to start my search for Emma. I throw on some fresh clothes and grab a quick bite to eat, then head out on my bike. I don't have any jobs scheduled with the Iron Guardians today, but shit can change in an instant in that regard.

The club started about twenty years ago when the female population of the local university began to grow, and with it, the problems that the girls faced just trying to get to class and back. One girl's father was in one of the more traditionally violent motorcycle clubs, but when his daughter told him about being cat-called while walking home from a night class, he and some of his crew decided to play escort for her.

Soon enough, other girls on campus noticed that when the riders were around, the assholes left them alone. Slowly but surely, more volunteers for what would first just be known as The Guards, and eventually the Iron Guardians, started to come in. And it turned out more than just harassed college students could benefit from their help.

Little kids in the hospital going home after long stays loved to be escorted by the cadre of bikers surrounding their family car. Women needing protection from asshole exes were able to sleep soundly with the growing Iron Guardians group silent and deadly parked outside their homes. The worst were the kids who had been hurt or abused and lived in fear of their abuser returning, but those were also the most important jobs of all. Who better to protect that innocent than the Iron Guardians? It was what had drawn me to the club in the first place.

It changed the way the town, and eventually, the entire state of Texas started to view motorcycle clubs as a whole. Where once bikers had been seen as criminals and thugs, we were now viewed more as a private police force. We still kept our noses out of any illegal activity, but we were trusted more than other MCs, which was always a good thing.

By the time I came along, the club was already solid and had a reputation as the place to go if you needed a guard. Nightly patrols through Stonebridge, especially on the weekends when the parties sometimes get out of hand, help keep everything under control. It also reminds assholes that might have something nefarious in mind that we are always here, always watching.

Last night was one of those patrols, and we had just pulled into the parking lot of one of the college bars called Aces to follow up with a bartender that had been getting some shit from a regular who wouldn't take no for an answer. When it turned out that our presence was deterrent enough to make him leave her alone, I let the boys grab a beer while I went outside to call and check in with the other patrol groups that were out. That was when one of my men pointed outside, and I saw the silhouette of a woman reaching out to touch my bike. From there, everything changed.

She had been so small, so delicate compared to the Harley. My bike is a beast of a machine, and seeing her hand on the fuel tank, her slender fingers stroking the gas cap, was the hottest fucking thing I had ever seen.

I knew in an instant that this girl was trouble. She was young, probably a student, and definitely not the type of woman I should be thinking about.

But one look at her and I wanted her like nothing else.

Then she asked me to walk her home, all vulnerability and sweetness, and in that instant, there was nothing else in the world I wanted to do. I sent a quick text to the boys inside, letting them know they didn't need to wait for me, and walked Emma back to her dorm.

The entire time I wanted to take her back to my place instead, somewhere she'd be safe and under my protection in every way possible. But the little bit of logic left in my brain told me if I pushed my luck, she'd probably disappear forever and want nothing to do with me. And hell, I'm an Iron Guardian. We're the opposite of those pushy pricks that move too fast and are too demanding.

For the first time in my life, I had WANTED to push, WANTED to demand, but I didn't. Emma will be mine, there's no fucking doubt about it, but it's going to take a gentler touch to capture her.

No, not capture. To have her come to me willingly, with the same sort of desperation pulsing within me like something alive.

I park the bike on the street near the quad, keeping my helmet on while I scan the area. I'm not sure how to find her, and the crowd of people isn't making things any easier.

Stonebridge University is a good-sized school, not huge, but bigger in the daylight than I remembered. There's a mix of old buildings and newer ones, and the campus itself is welcoming.

I get a few curious looks as I wander around, but it's not unusual for bikers to be on campus. With so many clubs and organizations connected to the Iron Guardians, the students and staff are used to seeing us.

Still, I know I'm not exactly the ideal candidate for a tour guide, so when one of the students I vaguely recognize—the younger brother of a Guardian—approaches me, I'm relieved.

"Hey, Luke! What's up? Do you need something?"

"Hey, Patrick. Yeah, actually. I helped a girl home last night and it's … er … protocol to check back up the next day to see if they're okay or need more help. I know you probably can't give me a name, but can you point me in the direction of the English literature department?"

"Sure, man! That's easy."

He gives me directions to the building, and I thank him before heading off. Now that I have a general idea of where I'm going, the campus seems a lot less intimidating.

As I make my way through the crowds of people, I catch a flash of blond hair that reminds me of Emma. I turn to get a better look, but it's just a student rushing off to class.

I sigh, shaking my head at my own foolishness. I'm acting like a lovesick teenager, chasing after any blonde I see.

The desire to find Emma, to make sure she's okay, is strong. And even though I'm not sure what I'll do when I actually find her, I keep walking, determined to complete my mission. Eventually, the building comes into view, and now I'm torn on how exactly to approach this situation. The faculty might tolerate me skulking about the grounds, but roaming the halls and peeking into classrooms is another thing altogether. That's creep shit. I can do better than that. Even if I don't feel casual about Emma, I have to play the part.

There's a coffee cart on the sidewalk by the English Literature department that sells refreshments and a small assortment of magazines. I grab Popular Mechanics and order a large black drip coffee, find a bench that faces the main entrance to the department, and settle in to wait. Thank God my first customer at my shop isn't due until after 3 PM. I have no idea how long I'll be posted up here.