If you'd told me years ago that I'd become a stunt woman after a car accident turned my Olympic dreams of gold to rust,

I'd have called you crazy.

Yet here I am, throwing myself off a perfectly good building.

I guess I've always been a little fearless, except when it comes to matters of the heart.

I keep my relationships light and meaningless, which is why my exes tend to have bigegos and the emotional depth of a puddle.

I'll admit, I have the bar set so low it's practically a tripping hazard.

Maybe that's why when a tattooed biker started a drunken conversation with my boobs, I found him more intriguing than offensive.

I thought he would be like the rest, just someone to pass the time with.

But after years of keeping my relationships shallow, dating a biker is the equivalent of being thrown in at the deep end.

And as enemies, old and new, start closing in, it takes almost losing him for me to let down my walls.

Even if loving him might just kill me.