Chapter Four

Laura

I eyed the giant leather and chrome machine, admiring the way it gleamed under the sun and trembling at the sheer size of the beast. My eyes rounded in fear. "I've never been on a motorcycle before."

The long-haired biker laughed and, dammit, the sound was low and deep and rich like chocolate. "Really? Never?"

"Never." I folded my arms and stared at the damn thing as if it might bite me.

"Have you been in a car before?"

I nodded. "Obviously. Your point?"

"My point is that it's no different, except you're not driving. I am." His green eyes sparkled like gems, his full lips kicking up into a lopsided grin. "Here, put this on." He handed me a black helmet that I accepted but didn't put on.

"What? I'm not putting this on, and I am not getting on this damn donor-cycle." I glared up at him. "I don't even know you!"

"I'm Dominic, but my friends call me Hawk. So does my pretend girlfriend." His smile was friendly and unwavering. Patient.

"Why Hawk?" Who was this man I'd have to spend time with for the foreseeable future?

"Because I'm sharp, dangerous, focused, and I have damn fine plumage." He shook his long, glossy hair and I swore it was like the sun changed its angle to showcase its brilliance, as reddish highlights gleamed in the light. The man could have had a starring role in a shampoo commercial. "Anything else?"

"No," I sighed, and tugged the helmet on my head. "Nothing else. For now," I clarified. "I'm hungry and my boyfriend is buying."

His smile was bright and satisfied. "Happy to satisfy my woman's appetite. Be sure to hold on tight, sweetheart." He winked and got on the bike first and cranked the engine to life. "Use my shoulders to get up."

I nodded, took a deep breath, and did as instructed. Before I knew it, the bike thundered underneath me and vibrated my whole body. My eyes slammed shut and I rested my hands lightly on his hips.

"Tighter," he shouted over his shoulder.

"I'm fine," I shouted back.

Hawk shrugged and then the bike was in motion. When Hawk gave it more gas, my grip tightened. He was hard all over, and I tried really hard not to notice and instead focused on the fact that I was on the back of a motorcycle. Flying through the streets of Steel City on the deadliest vehicle known to man.

What the hell is my life?

I risked opening my eyes and I was amazed at the speed, at the colors as the city flew by us, or rather, as we flew through the city. It was amazing. It was actually kind of thrilling and I forced myself to relax and enjoy the ride. My fingers remained tight on Hawk, but it was no longer a death grip, now cautious but relaxed.

I still couldn't believe what had happened in the past twenty minutes. A group of gangsters tried to abduct—and likely kill—me, and then the guy I'd shot down and pegged as an arrogant jerk swooped in to save me. Except to save myself, I'd have to pretend to be his girlfriend. It was insane and I had to be crazy to consider it, never mind saying yes.

It was fine. I could pretend to date Hawk to save my life, and despite his little joke, I would not fall for him.

With that settled, I jumped off the bike as soon as it came to a stop inside a newly paved parking lot. My legs wobbled and nearly gave out, but Hawk was right there, strong arms wrapped around me to keep me steady. "Always happens the first couple of times."

Why did he have to be so friendly? "Thanks. That was unexpected."

"It's the vibrations," he whispered in my ear before taking a step back, but never releasing me. "Just take slow steps and hang on to me like an adoring girlfriend." He hooked my arm through his and rested my hand on his bicep. A very hard and strong bicep.

"You are insufferable, you know that?"

His deep laughter bounced around the parking lot. "You have to say that because you love me." He held the door open and waved me inside.

I stopped and looked around at the large diner that was decorated in hideous shades of orange and green and brown. It was as if the seventies threw up and created a diner. "What is this place?"

He laughed again. "Isn't it great? Fuck those fifties and sixties style diners, this is all about the seventies, baby—the decade of classic rock and free riding."

I turned to look at him and I really shouldn't have because holy hell, was he beautiful when he smiled. It was almost boyish, or it would've been if he wasn't so damn masculine and big, so utterly male it was hard to see him as anything but sexy. And confident. "To each their own, I guess."

"You say that now, but wait until you taste the Hawaiian meatballs or the pasta primavera or the seven layer salad. Delicious."

"You're kidding, right? Please tell me I'm not fake dating a man who eats peas in his salad."

Hawk laughed again and led me to a booth. "Okay, fine, but we're starting with the cheese ball. It's incredible." He was like a kid in the candy store, and it shouldn't have been so damn appealing.

But it was. It really, really was.

"Fine with me. Don't think I've had one since I was a little girl and my grandmother thought they were the height of sophistication for every family gathering."

Once our orders were placed, Hawk turned to me with a curious gaze. "What made you want to be a nurse?"

"I like helping people and I'm good in an emergency. Plus, I'm not squeamish." I waited for the inevitable question about my dating life, but it never came. "What about you, why a biker?"

"They are my brothers," he answered simply. "I'm the MC secretary." His answer was proud, which surprised me.

"Is that similar to the secretary of any other organization? Taking notes, recording club details, and all that?"

Surprise flashed in his eyes. "Yep, exactly."

"So do you guys get hazed before you join?" I knew next to nothing about motorcycle clubs or biker gangs, definitely not enough to know the difference between the two.

"Hazed? Not exactly, but there is a probationary period before you become an official member." He leaned forward so we were closer. A few inches separated us, but it was enough to count at least four different shades of green in his eyes. "What else do you want to know?"

"What do you guys do other than ride your bikes around?"

He laughed. "Plenty. We run several businesses, help out the community where we can, protect our interests. And we party. We really love to party."

I could almost picture it. "Like an adult frat house with a revolving door of gorgeous women?"

"Yes and no. There are women. There are always women, but three of my brothers have recently fallen in love." He rolled his eyes, but his smile was affectionate and teasing. "But not like a frat house. Not at all."

The food arrived and we dug in, but the conversation never slowed. He told me a little about his club brothers in the Steel Demons and I told him about Kristy. "She's my closest friend. She's great."

He smiled. "She told me where to find you today."

"That little sneak. Though, I guess it's good she did or else I might be locked up in a dungeon somewhere." A shudder ripped through me as the words left my mouth and I realized the gravity of what actually happened today. Hawk didn't just help me out , he almost certainly saved my life. "Shit." I sat back and tried to shake off those thoughts, but I couldn't. They were there, front and center, and in vibrant color.

"Hey, Laura. It's okay, you're safe now." Hawk took my hands and gave them a supportive squeeze. "Don't think about what could have happened. It didn't, and that's what matters."

"Yeah, but it could have. If not for you and Kristy, I might be dead right now."

He flashed a sad smile. "But you're not dead. You're here with me eating an ungodly amount of cheese ball."

His efforts to make me smile worked. "It's rude to talk about how much food your girlfriend eats. Or doesn't eat." I arched one brow at him, and he laughed.

"I'm rusty at this boyfriend thing. You'll have to teach me, and I'll teach you how to stop worrying about shit that didn't happen. Won't happen."

"Thank you, Hawk." I tried for a smile, and the longer I held it, the more real it became. Hawk, so far, wasn't anything like the man I pegged him to be. In fact, I had a feeling he was more than an arrogant playboy.