HUNTER

My mind remains disoriented until I reach my old bedroom suite. Everything is the way I left it when I moved out. The walls are painted a deep blue. My king-sized bed is covered in a dark gray plush blanket. The left-hand wall has built-in shelves filled with knickknacks from various travels during my childhood. Across from the bed, near the door are more built-in shelves with photos of my family and friends.

I glance to my right toward the sitting area filled with my keepsakes. There's the quirky pink chandelier I bought in a tiny SoHo shop. The walls are covered in small artwork I created during my painting phase years ago. Several guitars rest in their cases against a red loveseat.

This place feels like home in a way the condo never quite does. I soak in the familiar objects, recalling where and when I got them. With each memory, I feel sharper and more in control of myself.

Once the doctor finishes his examination, he warns I might have a minor concussion. He explains to the staff and me what symptoms to watch for over the next few days. After he treats the minor taser burns, I'm left alone with the estate staff.

"Where is Tack?" I ask when Atticus enters.

The middle-aged British national was hired on as Suzanne's head of security when I was nineteen. He's like my grumpy uncle constantly reminding me of my mistakes. Tonight, I expect him to give me a lecture about how I should have agreed to a security detail years ago.

Instead, Atticus says, "Your friend is waiting in the west sitting room."

"Is he okay?"

"He's fine."

"Really?" I ask and grip his wrist. "I heard gunshots. I remember him in the garage, but I can't be sure if he was hurt."

Atticus hears the rising panic in my voice. He leans down and looks me in the eyes.

"He was completely unharmed. Not a scratch on him. You have my word."

Exhaling unsteadily, I try to regain my composure. "I would like a security detail from now on.'

Atticus reveals a half grin, feeling vindicated. I'm ready to ask to see Tack when Suzanne's assistant says my mom is on the phone.

My bedroom empties of staff as I take the call. Suzanne sounds barely in control of herself. She is not a woman accustomed to feeling powerless. I promise I'm okay. I explain how I plan to take a shower before I rest for the night.

"And you'll travel to Hong Kong tomorrow."

Shocked by the idea of traveling so soon, I instantly reply, "No."

"Hunter, you aren't safe in Banta City."

"I need more than a few hours to be ready to travel so far."

Suzanne falls silent before mumbling, "The doctor says you have a concussion."

"Even more reason for me to remain here for a day or two. I need rest before enduring a twenty-hour flight."

"I want you safe."

"I want that, too."

"Hunter," she whispers, uncomfortable with her fear. "I feel like I should cancel my trip and come home. But is the city safe?"

Banta City doesn't feel safe. However, if I admit this fact to Suzanne, she's bound to micromanage my life until she's basically living it for me.

"Give me a few days to prepare," I explain softly, hoping my calm tone will soothe her fearful heart. "Before I leave town, I want to see my friends. I'll ask Siobhan and Natasha to visit tomorrow."

"I don't want you to return to the condo."

"Ever?"

"At least not until the threat is over."

"Are we sure it's not over already? Atticus said Tack killed those men."

"He thinks someone hired them to abduct you. Until their boss is dead, you shouldn't return to the condo."

"What if I have security with me at the condo?"

My mother doesn't answer right away. When she finally speaks, I feel her wrapping her leash around me. "You have clothes at the estate. Why can't you pack those and avoid the condo until we're certain?"

I've always been aware of my mother's flaws. She took charge of her childhood when her feckless parents refused to raise her. Suzanne began calling the shots when she should have been allowed to remain carefree.

That's why she can hold her own with women like Katja Kovak and Aunt Fred O'Malley. Those two local powerhouses battled their way to their top while Suzanne was born into luxury. However, my mom is a fighter, even when there's no opponent.

As a child, I realized her personality would consume me if I didn't learn to stand up for myself. Sometimes, I told her no, even when I preferred to say yes. I never wanted her to get too comfortable with bossing me around.

So, rather than agree with her sensible idea immediately, I silently consider my options before pushing back with, "I have a few things I'd like to get from my condo."

"Send someone to retrieve whatever you desire."

"These are private female items."

My mother makes a growly sound before sighing, "You and Austen are my only weaknesses. I can't survive losing you."

The cheating bitch! Whenever she pulls the "sad mommy" routine, Austen and I struggle to stand up to her. Her words and the fear in her voice break my resolve. I'm already feeling weak and scared. Giving into her plan offers us both a lifeline tonight.

After I hang up, I sink into a hot bath and consider how Tack will react to my departure from Banta City. I'm sure he's still in the house somewhere.

Tack is relentless in a sneaky way. He acts laid-back, never seeming put out by anything. In reality, he's rather skilled at manipulating people, always calculating what he says and the tone to use.

As I spent more time around the Backcountry Kings, I began to see the similarities between Tack and the club's VP, Noble. Both men can seem affable despite their size and lifestyle. They smile easily and often take the "voice of reason" role. Though they are without a doubt nice guys compared to many of their fellow bikers, they're also as tenacious as a rude motherfucker like Zoot.

So, yes, Tack will say or do whatever is necessary to stay at the estate tonight. If he needs to make threats, he'll get scary. If he needs to smooth over a problem, he'll unleash unparalleled charm.

After my bath, I dress in black leggings and a loose-fitting gray shirt. I apply cream to my overheated skin and brush my hair.

Once I feel more like myself, I go searching for Tack. The main level is illuminated by the outlet lights and moonlight streaming in through the clerestory windows. The house is locked down, the security system is overseen by Atticus and extra men, and the staff are tucked away in their spaces for the night.

I find Tack in the foyer. He's still wearing the clothes from earlier. His off-white T-shirt has a skull design across his chest. I love how the shirt clings to his muscled chest. A year ago, I saw a club slut run her fingers across the design. I nearly lost my shit with jealousy.

Of course, Tack casually brushed off her hand and walked away. He's always so composed around the women as if they can't possibly tempt him.

Meanwhile, tonight, as the moonlight warms the hard curves of his handsome face, I find myself tempted closer.

"Are you planning to stand here all night?" I ask Tack while joining him near the front doors.

"Your people got me set up in a bedroom, but it's too early to sleep. Besides, I'm getting hit by constant texts."

Tack shows me his phone with new messages from his club's management. I notice how he hasn't responded to any of them. Tack shoves the phone into his front pocket.

"You seem hyper," I murmur and shuffle away from him. "Do you need something to bring you down?"

"Why, are you planning to say mean stuff to me?"

Snickering at his comment, I keep moving toward the kitchen. I consider turning on the light yet feel as if I might alert someone to my presence.

"I'm paranoid," I tell him as I walk to the fridge. "I keep imagining someone outside watching me."

Tack inches around the large island. His gaze never leaves me. I feel him plotting. Rather than show his hand, he only says, "Your people have the property locked down tight. I wouldn't worry about eyes on you."

I retrieve a banana-flavored Snapple and gesture toward the fridge. "Grab whatever you want. There's beer. If you want something stronger, we can hit up the liquor cabinet."

When Tack leans in front of me to reach for the apple-flavored Snapple, his proximity fills the room with our need. He smells so inviting.

For her foster brothers' birthdays, Carys O'Malley buys each man a new cologne. On Tack's thirty-second one, she bought him one with sandalwood and vanilla. Whenever I get a whiff, I find myself wanting to rub up against him.

Fighting against my temptation, I step back and use the kitchen island as a buffer. "You saved me tonight."

"You would have done the same for me."

"I would," I say with too much emotion. "I would run toward danger to protect you, Tack."

He sets his drink on the island and struggles against the words in his head. He knows I don't want to hear them. He makes me weak on my best day, and I'm especially vulnerable tonight.

"I'm going to Hong Kong," I tell him in a desperate attempt to sever the painful need between us. "I leave the day after tomorrow."

Tack lowers his gaze and struggles with the right thing to say. "When Suzanne called me, I tried to convince her to let you stay, but you know how she is."

"Do you think my leaving is a mistake?"

"For your safety, no, probably not. But for me, it'll hurt to know you're so far away."

In the past, I couldn't imagine merging Tack's life with mine. I've lived a safe existence, except for when I got punched defending a pregnant Carys O'Malley. Tonight, I was the victim of an attempted abduction. I got mugged a week ago. I can't go home. My life is no longer safe.

Of course, Tack's life is never safe. He faces danger every time he's on the road. People can take a shot at him when he's out to eat. He could be ambushed while stopping at the store. Tack lives his life with a target squarely on his back.

"Were you afraid tonight when you faced those men?" I ask him after returning my half-full Snapple to the fridge.

"My only fear was you were hurt."

Frowning at the casual way he dismisses his safety, I ask, "Don't you worry about getting hurt?"

"If I let myself worry, I might choke in a pinch."

Inching closer, I shiver as his alluring scent reaches me. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"Well, I don't want that, either. I just don't worry about it," Tack says and studies me. "If I died, would you give my eulogy?"

"Yes, and I'd do a wonderful job."

"If you died, I'd likely drink myself to death."

The unfiltered certainty behind his words breaks me. "Don't say that."

"After what happened tonight, why should we lie to each other?"

Nodding, I grip the marble countertop and sigh. "I don't know the right answer about anything right now."

Tack levels his gaze on me, gluing my feet to their spot. "When you get back, I'm taking you out on a date."

"Where will we go?"

Tack hesitates, having likely expected me to disagree. "To a movie and dinner. When I walk you up to your door at the end of the evening, you'll reward me with a goodnight kiss. It'll be the best date of your life."

Despite smiling at his words, I shuffle behind the island for protection from my growing lust. "I have no doubt you'll sweep me off my feet. The dating part has never been the problem."

Tack inches his fine ass around the island, slowly as not to unnerve me. I inhale his scent and think back to the parking garage. My mind swirls with memories. I want to zero in on those I shared with Tack at the clubhouse. Instead, I mostly remember how my body went limp and dropped to the ground when the taser hit me.

That's why I flinch when Tack's fingers stroke my cheek in the barely lit kitchen.

"I'm scared."

Cocking an eyebrow, he asks, "Of me?"

"I felt so powerless tonight."

"Then, having me closer should be a good thing, right?"

Unwilling to fall apart, I ask, "If this thing happens between us, shouldn't it be because I want you rather than because I'm afraid?"

"I don't care."

"I think you do," I insist and step back when he invades my space. "Tomorrow, Natasha and Siobhan are visiting me at the estate. I'd like you to use that time to deal with this," I say and gesture toward his phone vibrating in his pocket. "You can calm their concerns."

"I can do that on the phone from here."

"After talking to your club's management, you can pack overnight clothes. If you're planning to stay at the estate, I assume you'll want to wear something clean at some point," I explain and then grin. "Unless you want me to locate you clothing. I can't promise you won't look silly like Walla Walla did after the attack on Austen when the staff brought him oversized clothes."

Tack hesitates as if stripping my words down to the important part where he gets to stay overnight.

Having gotten what he wants, Tack offers a smug smile. "I'll give you alone time with the girls if you rest tonight."

"Will you walk me to my room?" I ask and tear up when my voice breaks. "I thought I was tough. I trained in martial arts and carry weapons, but it didn't matter."

"You kicked their asses," Tack says, sliding his arm around my shoulders and guiding me toward the foyer. "In a hundred different scenarios, you'd have won."

"If they wanted me dead, I'd be dead."

"Don't think like that. Just focus on how you're alive. You need rest. Tomorrow, you'll see your friends. We'll play pool. You said your mom has a table, right?"

As we reach the front door, I turn toward the hallway leading to my room. "Yes, it's not far from the guest rooms. Do you promise you'll rest, too? I'd hate to crush you at pool because you're sleepy."

Tack offers me a smile as we reach my room. He looks at the door and then back toward the path we took. I wonder if he's gotten himself turned around in the house. His gaze returns to me.

"Thank you for saving me," I tell him as I reach for the doorknob.

A moment passes, as we both consider if a kiss is the wrong move. The fact that we hesitate is the only answer I need. We aren't there yet. Not tonight when I'm clingy and he's holding all the power.

Tomorrow, we'll look at the situation with fresh eyes and the same longing we've been nursing for years.