Chapter Seven

Holly

I wake up to the sound of an earthquake.

The noise is loud, and everything in the bedroom feels like it's shaking, including the bed. I sit up in a panic, looking wildly around, trying to make sense of everything. Wait, do earthquakes even make noise?

What the heck is happening?

I absently reach to my side to wake Reaper, but his spot is empty. I turn around to find the man has already climbed off the bed and is stepping into his jeans.

"Fucking lunatics," he mutters under his breath, but I hear him and still have no clue what he is talking about.

"What's going on?" I ask groggily, pushing the covers off to get out of bed when he stops me.

"Don't," he tells me, walking over to my side and gently pushing me back to bed before pulling the covers over my shoulders. "Go back to sleep, angel. I'll deal with the noise." He leans down and brushes his lips over my temple.

"What is it?" I ask, panicked, grabbing his hand before he can leave. "Where's that noise coming from?"

He shakes his head, eyes moving to the bedroom window before shifting back to me. "It's nothing you need to worry about. Just go back to sleep, and I'll join you in a few minutes," he promises.

There is a sense of urgency in his voice, so I let my hand fall from his and watch him walk out of the bedroom. He is gone for only a minute when the noise dies down, and as much as I want to stay in bed and go back to sleep, I can't help but grow curious about the source of the noise.

I climb out of bed and walk to the bathroom where I grab a robe before going back to the bedroom window, but I see nothing. The window is facing the opposite direction of my driveway, which means if I want to see what the hell is happening, I need to go to the living room.

I chew my lip and contemplate staying in my room and waiting for Reaper to come back with an explanation.

I choose to trust him and wait.

The bed is still warm when I climb back in and pull the covers over my body, listening for any other noises, but it's eerily quiet. Reaper asked me to wait for him, but the longer I do so, the more worried I grow.

My mind runs wild as I think of all the possibilities. Perhaps the cops came to arrest him, but then there would be sirens. I search my mind for other possibilities, but come up blank.

"What's taking him so long," I whisper anxiously, sitting up on the bed and staring worriedly at the bedroom door, counting the seconds then minutes until Reaper rejoins me in bed and assures me that it was just some giant lawnmower, low flying plane, or something else. My eyes move to the alarm clock and see it's a few minutes past ten, so it makes no sense for anyone to be mowing their lawn this late. Besides, it would take dozens of lawnmowers to make the disruptive noise that woke us.

Reaper will have an answer for me when he gets back, so I wait . . . and wait some more until I can't any longer.

With a sigh, I climb out of bed and slide my feet into my slippers, tightening the robe around me before following after Reaper. I call out softly to him from the end of the hallway, and when he doesn't answer, I walk out, shivering when a cool wind blows through the open front door.

My heart is hammering as I slowly approach the front door, unsure of what is waiting outside, and in all of my wide imagination, nothing could have prepared me for what I see. There are at least a dozen large motorcycles parked in my driveway and along the road.

My jaw drops as I stare at the scary-looking men outside my home talking to Reaper in the glow of the light above the garage door, and I must make a sound because they all turn toward me with blank faces and cold eyes.

What the hell is happening?

My Aunt Meg hated motorcycles with a passion, so I know these men aren't here because they somehow knew her, and they certainly don't know me. These men are here for Reaper, and from his relaxed posture, I can tell he is friendly with them. And I know a freaking motorcycle club when I see one. These men all have the same patches on their leather jackets that Reaper has on his. I was so distracted by Reaper's care—and then by Reaper—that I hadn't put two and two together until now. Steel Order MC: Austin. This particular club is well known around the city as one of the most dangerous organizations in Texas.

My breathing grows shallow when I recall cleaning the blood off Reaper's jacket. I was panicked at the time and didn't put much thought into the markings.

Christ, who is this man I let into my life? I knew he was no saint, but this?

I back up a step, horrified at the thought of letting a member of a criminal organization into my home. I let him touch me, shared my body and bed with him. I can't believe I fell for a freaking criminal.

"You knew what he was from the beginning," chastises a voice at the back of my head.

It's too dark to make out more than the two men closest to Reaper. The man standing next to him has a buzzcut and dark, empty eyes. He's not even handsome . . . just plain terrifying. My eyes shift from him to the long-haired man standing next to him with a wild, somewhat psychotic smile on his face.

I quickly look away from the men and lock eyes with Reaper. There is a resigned look on his face as he steps away from his friends and approaches me, his massive body blocking me from the view of the other men.

"What's going on, Reaper?" I whisper shakily, trying to look past his shoulder, but the man is built like a linebacker. "Who are these people?"

"Let's talk inside," he says, wrapping his arm around my waist and guiding me back into the house. I catch the dark-haired man's grin right before the door shuts behind Reaper.

"Reaper . . ." My voice breaks with nerves, and I back away from him so I can think. I comb my fingers through my hair before grabbing a fistful and looking up to lock my eyes with his. "Are you a member of a motorcycle club?"

"Yes."

"Oh, God," I whisper, my stomach churning at his confirmation of what I'd already suspected. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Holly . . ."

"You should've told me!" I yell, my heart clenching painfully. God, what have I done?

I can be with anyone in the world, but someone from a biker gang. Aunt Meg is probably frowning at me from the afterlife, cursing me for being a fool.

It's not even that he's a criminal. Heck, Reaper could tell me he was a hitman or something, and it would hurt less. An MC member is the last person I can fall in love with.

I can't be like my Aunt Meg. She made me swear that I wouldn't make the same mistakes she did.

"Hey, it's okay, angel. I promise you, no one is going to hurt you," Reaper says, appearing in front of me and cupping my jaw. My heart clenches painfully as I stare into his beautiful eyes. When I first locked eyes with him, I thought they were cold and blank, but with time, he's lowered his shields, letting me in and showing me a completely different side to him.

They're warm, his hazel eyes. Warm and pleading as they stare down at me.

I'm a fool for falling in love with a man I don't know. For giving my heart and body to the last man I should have.

"This house belonged to my aunt," I whisper brokenly, my thoughts spinning back to one of the darkest times in my life. "She died a few years ago. She raised me alone after her husband was killed in a shootout between two motorcycle clubs. He'd been an enforcer for one of the clubs for fifteen years. When he was shot, they left him to bleed to death in the street."

"Holly—"

"I grew up hearing one horror story after another about the dangers of being involved with a motorcycle club. I swore I would never get mixed up with an MC member. My aunt made me promise to never trust a man who wears a patch because they're heartless and reckless. That club let the love of her life, a man who was one of their own and had dedicated years to the club, die in the street like he was nothing. Then they pretended he never existed and left my aunt alone in her grief to fend for herself."

"Angel . . ."

"I need you to leave," I whisper, brushing my hands over the wetness on my cheeks. "I won't call the cops or tell anyone about you, but you need to take your men and get off my property. I can't disrespect my aunt's memory like this."

It hurts me to say the words, but thinking I have potentially welcomed someone into my home with an affiliation to the people who ruined my aunt's life hurts even more. I shouldn't have let Reaper into my life. God, I should have called the cops the first night I found him in my house, but it's already too late for that.

All I can do now is push him away.

I turn my back to Reaper so he doesn't read the regret in my eyes, and I have no idea what I expect to happen, but the sound of the front door opening sends my heart clenching painfully. The shutting of the door after Reaper has walked out is a soundtrack to my breaking heart.

A few minutes after Reaper has left, I hear the loud rumbling sound again, which I now recognize as motorcycle engines, so freaking loud, I swear I feel the house shake. The noise fills the air before slowly fading away, and soon, the night is silent once more.

He's gone.

It's what I wanted. I cannot be with someone in a motorcycle club. Not only would it be breaking my promise to my aunt, I would be putting myself in the same position she was in. Anything could happen to Reaper in the service of his club. Hell, that's likely how he ended up on my bathroom floor in the first place. It's best that Reaper leaves now and return to his life, and I go back to mine before I become any more attached than I already am.

I hug my arms to ward off the sudden chill, hating the thought of going back to my old, lonely life. A life without Reaper in it—

"I told them to leave," a deep voice calls out behind me, and I whirl around in shock, my lips parting on a gasp when I see the man standing just inside my door. The chill I feel is coming from the open door. Christ, I didn't even hear him open it.

My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water as I try to find the words to speak, but all I manage is a broken, "Reaper."

I watch him approach me, his massive frame seeming bigger in this moment than I have seen before. Perhaps it's because he's spent the majority of his time in my house lying down.

"I told you I am not going anywhere," the man says, brushing my hair from my face. "I am not leaving you, Holly. And even when I have to leave this house, it'll only be for a short while. You're stuck with me for life."

"Reaper . . ."

"I don't know what happened with your uncle," he says, his words rendering me speechless. "But I can promise you that even if the Steel Order MC was involved, things have changed now that Priest is in charge. Things aren't done the same way they used to be."

"How?" I choke out.

From what I have heard, the Steel Order MC is not exactly full of saints. They deal a lot with weapons, and I've heard rumors of drug trafficking and money laundering too.

"Because, Holly, we are not the monsters everyone paints us to be. We don't allow just anyone into the club, not anymore. Every member is carefully selected. I won't lie and say that everything we do is strictly legal, but we're working on going legit."

"My aunt . . ."

"I'm sorry about what happened to her and her husband, Holly," he whispers, rubbing his thumb over my jaw. "I can promise you that my club is different. We take care of our own. Those guys showed up here because I'd called our club president, Priest, the day after I woke up here and told him what happened. He hadn't heard from me since and was worried. Not just about me, either. They were worried about you too. You helped me when I needed it, that means the club is in your debt. And now that you're mine, you're family."

"What if something happens to you? You could have died just a few days ago." I sniff, my mind recalling memories of my aunt, still stuck in her grief years after the loss of her husband and working so hard to make ends meet on her own. She blamed my uncle's MC for everything that went wrong, from a missed mortgage payment to a leaky pipe.

"I'm sorry, angel," he says gruffly, tipping my jaw so I can read the truth of his words in his eyes. "I know you have many questions, and I will answer all of them, starting with how I got shot."

My body is frozen as Reaper tells me how his MC recently caught the Broken Chains trying to traffic girls and stopped them. That he got shot while following a lead. But what surprises me the most is how concerned his biker brothers were for him when he got hurt. When he'd called Priest, his president had even urged him to go to the hospital, consequences be damned.

Christ, my neighbors must hate me now, thinking I brought a freaking motorcycle gang to their doorsteps.

And I want to hate it too.

Until now, Reaper never told me anything about who he is, but in his defense, he never lied either. Now I am torn between wanting to wrap my arms around this man who is no good for me and the loyalty I have to my aunt.

Reaper makes the decision for me when he leans down and brushes his lips over mine. "I'm here to stay, angel," he says against my lips, his hands dipping down and grabbing the back of my knees before lifting me into his arms.

I know I should fight him.

Getting involved with Reaper now that I know he is a member of a notorious motorcycle club will likely not end well for me, and yet, I can't think past the taste of his lips or his promises to stick by my side.