Cole looked at the closed door ten inches from his face.

No one likes a guy who is only out for himself. The words echoed around the hallway. As if contact with the air solidified the words into fragments of sharp metal, each one drove into his chest and dug its painful, nasty way in.

She couldn’t have known. It had taken him a long time to realize that he needed to look out for himself if he was ever going to get his depression under control. But he’d worked on it and come out a better man. And when he had it sorted, he made sure he repaid the people who had been there for him: his pop, his company, his family. Briony couldn’t have known how deep her words cut or that he’d spent the last six years of his life trying to make it up to everyone. Looking out for everyone except himself, running the family company the way he knew his pop would’ve wanted. Making the board loads of cash. Taking crap from his righteous angel-fart-smelling brother. Finally, finally, he was doing this development just for him. Sure, it was still going to make the company loads of cash, but the green roof concept, the community gardens, that was all him, his baby.

He shook himself and took a step back from the door to try and shake the sharp words out. What did it matter what she thought? Cole turned on his heel and headed for his car. There were bigger fish to fry than Briony Wilde. Bigger fish like his pop. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth, then made himself relax. He put a smile on his face to try and soften his voice before he punched the number into his cell and got through on the second ring.

“Ah. Cole. I was wondering when you’d call. So she told you, did she?”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you about the engagement. I started to, but you told me not to do it.”

“I know,” the older man said. “You always were impatient. She seems nice though. No, that’s not right, she doesn’t seem nice at all. She seems good. Solid. Smart. I like that.”

“She’s not exactly an all-American apple-pie girl.”

“Of course she’s not. Shit, boy, if you found one of those she’d leave you within a year. You’re too much like me. And this woman is a lot like your mom.”

Cole sat back. How could his father even say that? His mother was not a lying, blackmailing . . . He shook his head. His pop didn’t know any of that, and Cole was hardly an authority on his mom. He’d never even known her.

“Look, son, it’s fine. It shouldn’t be, but it is. I figured calling her was better than sitting back and wondering about her. It’s not like I really know the girl. I only know what color she wants to paint her walls. I don’t know how much money the walls actually make. Or who her people are. You’re a shit for not telling me about it, but maybe I’m getting romantic in my old age. I forgive you. I like her. Just don’t fuck it up. This development is too big to fail. If the girl gets in the way of that, then that’s a game changer.” He hung up.

Cole drove to his office in a daze. Sitting at his desk, looking over plans, he couldn’t shake Briony’s hold on him. She was a game changer, all right. His shirt had the strands of her scent on it and every time he turned, he caught a whiff of her sultry fragrance. It was nothing like the flowery perfume of his secretary or the other women he had dated. Briony smelt like being on the road. Hints of trees, fresh air, and a splash of new engine oil. It shouldn’t have been good, but it was. So good.

And then there were her ideas. Passive thermal design? Cole sat back in his chair. What sort of biker researched environmental technologies? And then pitched them to his board so effectively? And this week, watching her talk to the builders, the men listened to her as if she were a seasoned pro, not a bartender in a biker bar. The Wilde type. Apparently. When they’d been focused on the renovation, when he’d caught a glimpse of the bright, sharp mind that she kept hidden behind her red leather shell, Cole had wanted to stroke it to life, bring out the smart woman Briony Wilde kept on lockdown with snarky words and a horde of biker protectors.

Protectors and provocateurs. The way she was with that Martinez guy had gotten to him. Damn guy was always around. The way she smiled so easily for him. The way she curled her arm through his. He didn’t like it. I don’t like sharing. No. Briony had flinched when he’d said there could be no one else while they were engaged. And there certainly hadn’t been anyone around when he’d first spent time with her in her garage. Cole shook his head. And so you bust in there and take her in the shower. Idiot.

He tore the piece of paper where he’d been doodling off his pad and looked at the fresh white surface. Picking up a pencil he began to sketch. It started out being an outline of Wilde’s, but before he knew it he’d drawn Briony in, standing at the bar like when he’d first met her. The pencil lines were sharp along the edges of the architecture, but around Briony, they softened. He detailed her hips, her arms, the wave of her hair. What are you doing? He stopped and looked down at his drawing. It was as if Briony were the light and the lines of the building were just shadows radiating out from her.

“Don’t be an idiot. She’s not your wife.” Only she had his ring on her finger. And being around her was messing with his head. He looked up and realized he’d been sitting in the dark for the better part of an hour. Time to leave. He just didn’t know if he was looking forward to getting back to Wilde’s or dreading it. It was getting easier to be there, to be sure. Most of the bikers gave him a grudging nod when he walked through, knowing, he guessed, that he was the one enabling their precious bar to continue to operate. But living with Briony so close and yet untouchable, brought home to him how messed up this whole situation was. In many ways it was good having her in his life, but when Martinez walked past, or a pack of bikers roared into the bar without realizing he was there . . . this was not his life. This noise, this hunger for danger, this disregard for the power of the black dog. Being at Wilde’s was a drain, pure and simple.

But if his subconscious was willing to draw Briony into the middle of his doodling, his body was just as willing to make her a feature of his every waking moment. He needed to calm the hell down and keep his distance.

And then it struck him. She was Wilde’s. When she talked about her hotel she always said we. Or that she was doing things for them. He’d never given it much thought, but she was standing up for more than herself. The Raising Hellfire Gang really were her family. She was standing up for all the misfits that happened to scramble through her door. Misfits that didn’t fit anywhere else. And you know all about that. If it hadn’t been for his pop never giving up hope . . . Cole rubbed his eyes. He never thought he’d be comparing himself with his blackmailing fiancée, but they were a lot alike. It was no wonder she was fighting so hard to save Wilde’s and the Raising Hellfire Gang. They all accepted and supported each other.

That was what her barb about guys looking out for themselves was about. She’d pinned him as a selfish developer and why shouldn’t she? She didn’t know the first thing about his background, his family. He’d fed her tidbits about his brother and his pop, but only surface stuff. Maybe he should have come clean about his darker past. Somehow realizing that they were more alike than he was willing to accept took the sting out of her words.

Cole threw his pencil down and stood up. “You’re jealous.” Hearing the words out loud didn’t make them any less of a revelation. He wanted that kind of relationship with her.

He pulled the sketch off his pad and walked out the door. He needed to talk to Briony and clear the air. If this . . . engagement . . . was going to last a year, then they needed to set some things straight. Things like her welcoming you into her shower again? He grimaced. It sure as shit meant making sure that she didn’t welcome any bikers anywhere close to her bedroom. And more than that, it meant that they needed to talk properly about whatever it was that was brewing between them.

As he walked up to the hotel later, the first thing he saw through the window was Briony leaning over her plans, her head tipped to the side, her hand holding up her hair, a pen in her mouth. Standing beside the desk light she’d pulled over to the table, she was backlit and her skin glowed. Damn, but she was beautiful when she wasn’t telling him to back the hell off. He watched her a while, enjoying the rare moment of unfettered observation. She threw you out of her room earlier. What you should be doing is backing. The. Hell. Away.

Never was very good at doing the right thing. He pushed through the doors just in time to see Briony’s back as she headed into the bar. Cole started to follow her but he noticed a mess of papers on her desk, so he walked into her office and leaned over her plans to see what she had been doing.

“Holy crap.”

Rather than the standard line drawings of the hotel she’d shown him earlier, these were hand-drawn sketches. Cole pulled what he’d drawn out earlier and laid it next to hers. The styles were different—his were more linear, and hers were done with ink, the edges blurred to give form, life, and dimension—but the subject matter was remarkably similar. The bar curved like a living thing down the side of the room, and supports, drawn in her hand like tree branches, made the whole thing seem like it grew out of the floor toward the ceiling.

“You weren’t supposed to see those.”

He turned and folded his drawing before she saw it. “Why not?”

She shrugged. “It was a sketch I did for your pop. Don’t freak out, he called and asked me to. Nothing more, nothing less. They’re not architectural. Don’t want you to think I’m wasting your time.”

“You think I would think that?”

“You’ve made it pretty clear how busy you are, and that I’m a pain in your butt, but it won’t be for long. Once this place is renovated you’ll hardly have to see me.”

He shook his head as he realized he’d been right. She thought he was as bad as all the other developers out there. Did she not remember how excited she’d been about the green space in his development? And what had happened between them only hours ago? “I’m not that guy.”

She shuffled the papers together. “Which guy is that? The one who was going to smash this place to the ground before I stopped him? Who was willing to let me end up homeless till I bullied you into renovating this?” She waved a hand around the room.

“The one who you invited into your shower, who you pleaded with not to stop.”

Was that a blush?

“That was a mistake.” She picked up her pen.

“The first time was a mistake. The second time was . . . something else,” he said and took a step closer to her.

The end of the pen had made it into her mouth and Cole watched her bite down hard. Watching her lips around it made Cole forget the mess the woman in front of him had landed him in. Made him forget everything. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’re more alike than you realize,” he murmured.

She laughed and jerked her head back, but looking up at him through her eyelashes, her voice was more playful than pissed off. “You and me? Night and day, buddy.”

He pulled out his drawing and spread it out next to hers. “Not night and day. More like pen and ink.”

He watched her nostrils flare as she registered the similarity just as he had. “You copied my drawings? You’re quick.”

“I hadn’t seen yours. I did mine this afternoon, in my office.”

She looked up at him and then back at the drawings. He watched her features soften as she traced the outline of her form in the center of his page. Her face turned up to his, confusion worrying her forehead.

“Like I said, we’re more alike than you realize.” He pointed at the two sets of drawings. “It seems you have a talent for getting under my skin.”

She looked down again. “Is that how you see me? Soft like that?”

He followed her gaze. “When you shed your leather shell.”

She pursed her lips. “The leather is a part of who I am. The Raising Hellfire boys are—”

He raised a hand to stop her. “Family. I get it. As long as that’s all they are.”

Finally she smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about a bit of competition.”

“No. Not worried. Just making sure you understand exactly what being engaged to me means.” And with that he closed the gap between them and took her face in his hands.

“So if the second time was something else, does that mean the third time is the charm?” she said and splayed her hands over his chest.

“Maybe,” he said before he tipped her chin and captured her lips with his.

Better. He released her chin and let his hands stray down her body, pulling her closer, enjoying the feeling of her soft form against his. She responded eagerly, opening her mouth to give him entry and, there, she tipped her pelvis, bringing it closer. Ready. Willing.

Darting his tongue with hers, he relished the taste of her and when she gave a small whimper at the base of her throat, he tangled a hand in her hair at the back of her head and pulled her back to open her even further. Spreading the fingers of his other hand, he raked them up her body, letting his thumb caress the swelling underside of her breast through her leather waistcoat. “I think you should shed that leather skin of yours,” he muttered in her ear and flicked open the three buttons at its front. She made no move to stop him and he smoothed her soft T-shirt with his open palm, relishing the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric.

“I should take you right now,” he said through clenched teeth. “Show you just what things could be like if you let me in a little.”

She gasped as he pinched her pebbled nipple between his thumb and forefinger and she grabbed at his hand. “I think you’re forgetting yourself there, Slick. Let you in? You’re the one who’s always running away.” Briony looked him dead in the eye and took his whole index finger in her mouth, her tongue doing wicked things to its length.

Dear. God. His cock pushed at the front of his pants. “Don’t start anything you can’t finish, Wilde,” he growled.

“I don’t seem to remember not finishing being something we had trouble with.” She released his finger and leaned in to give him a kiss that had his cock not just pushing, but pulsing uncomfortably against the seam of his pants.

He caught her wrists and brought them up to his lips. “Not like this,” he said simply, and tugged her over to the chaise longue in the corner. Pushing her down on it, he opened her leather waistcoat and for once, she didn’t resist. Didn’t even open her mouth. “We work together better than seems possible,” he said. “If we let ourselves go, be pen and ink, without the complications, think about what we could make happen.” He saw it then, the change in her eyes. As if she understood, finally, that their connection was bigger than either of them. That meeting her, working with her, growing his development with her, was teaching him things about himself he didn’t even know he had left to learn.

Then he covered her mouth with his and let himself fall into her. With their clothes peeled away there was nothing to distinguish them from any other pair of lovers. He was not a multimillion-dollar developer, and she was not the hard-nosed head of a biker bar. They were man and woman, lovers. Loved.

She opened her legs for him as if she, too, was ready to fall apart. As if seeing their drawings side by side had shown her, too, just how much in common they had, and how much they could build together. When he entered her it wasn’t to shake her foundations or to make her beg. It was to join with her, to let himself go, for the first time, completely. They fit so well together he had to hold himself back from letting go too early. Instead he focused on her. Her lips, her breasts, her neck, her heat. Their kisses rolled through him, and he was so exposed that his skin felt like it would shed itself. They slipped into an easy rhythm together, her breath mingling with his, both of them with their eyes open, watching.

They fit. Perfectly. As if the revelation were painted on the air around him he realized this changed everything. Then, “Oh, yes, now,” she managed as she arched her back and he gripped her butt, pulling her closer to grind out every millimeter of pleasure. As she started clamping around him, sensation exploded over every inch of his body. Stars caught his vision as he spiraled up into the darkness of his climax. Stars, light, pleasure, perfection.

For an eternity he was held up there. Cushioned from the world by their lovemaking. Lost in her.

“Well,” she said when they both came down to earth.

“Indeed,” he said and stroked the side of her face with a gentle finger. They both paused and Cole felt sure she was as uncertain as he was about what to say next. He took a breath. “That was amazing. You are amazing.”

She smiled and it lit up her face. He saw the look again, the one that echoed his own and his heart sang out, loud as a canary at the sight of the radiance in her eyes. “You are so beautiful when you smile,” he said and kissed her on the nose.

“You ain’t so bad yourself,” she said. “Although you could work on your body a little. This?” She slapped his rock-hard abdomen. “Too many pies, mister.”

The light chuckle felt good and he reached over to dispose of the condom and pull his shirt back on.

“You have to go?” she said, and all he wanted was to take his shirt back off, curl up next to her, and spend the night luxuriating in her body. Then, as if his leg had just remembered he was lying on a chaise longue built for a shorter person, a shot of pain spiked through his thigh and he stood to release the cramp. “I don’t have to go, but we do need to get out of here if I’m going to keep any feeling in my legs.”

Her smile warmed him all over again.

“I also can’t see you sneaking out without any clothes on and not causing a riot next door.” He jerked his head to the bar where the sounds of drinking were audible through the wall now that they weren’t bound into each other.

“Good point. Let’s go. I’m not done with you yet.” She pulled on her pants and vest and he did the same, only stopping to pull her into a kiss that he hoped promised everything he had to show her when they got upstairs. She wound her hands around his neck and pushed her fingers through his hair, making him want to ignore his legs and take her on the chaise all over again.

“If you were putting on a show for someone, they’ve gone. And you don’t need to pretend for me.” Rocco’s voice came from the office door he’d just opened.

Briony dropped her hands and stepped back. Cole missed her touch instantly.

“We were just . . .” Briony stammered and Cole looked up to see Rocco’s face twisted in amusement.

“You don’t need to explain,” said the older biker.

Damn him for interrupting. And damn him for making Briony feel like she had to explain anything.

“Thought you should know that Hade and the boys have finished your last bottle of bourbon.”

Briony’s mouth opened and her face went from flushed to flat. “I got a new order in yesterday. How did they go through it so quickly?”

Rocco shrugged. “Guess they were celebrating. Marnz beat that guy from the Fury’s this morning. You know Marnz hates anyone calling him out.” He turned to Cole. “Honor thing. You know how it is.” He cocked his head to the side. “Or maybe not, I guess.”

Bastard.

“Anyway. Bourbon.” Rocco titled his head back toward the bar.

Briony sighed and walked out of the room without giving Cole a second glance.

Rocco watched her disappearing back. “Taking the whole wedded bliss thing really seriously, ain’t you? Nice work. No one will ever suspect.”

Cole’s stomach contracted as if the man had punched him. “Whatever you say.”

“It is whatever I say, because Bri is different. She’s not just one of your fancy girls. You don’t get to do whatever you like with her and then walk away. Bri’s got people.”

“So I see,” said Cole as nonchalantly as he could.

“I mean it, big shot.”

“I know you’re her family, and that’s all very noble, but Briony is a big girl. She can make her own decisions.”

“Of course she can. I’m just sayin’, Bri is one of us. She’ll never fit into your world, so don’t go thinking you’re going to change her.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“No, of course not. It’d take too much energy.”

Cole took a step forward, but Rocco put a hand on his chest. “Easy, tiger. You don’t want to start something you can’t finish.”

Cole opened his mouth, but Briony reappeared right at that moment. “Nice to see you two getting along.”

Cole thrust his hands into his pockets and took a step back. “I’m going to turn in for the night. See you tomorrow.”

He saw her face drop and he wanted to take it back. Screw Rocco and all the Hell’s Boys. So what if they knew he wanted Briony in his bed? Wanted her, full stop. But he didn’t have the words. Not in front of Rocco.

Her eyes flattened and she pursed her lips, the moment lost. He turned and headed for the stairs. Although he felt Briony’s eyes on his back, Cole didn’t turn around. If he stayed in the room with Rocco a moment longer, he would probably regret what happened next. But lying in bed he couldn’t settle, replaying what had just happened with her in his arms and then with Rocco’s appearance, everything the variety of men in the Raising Hellfire Gang had said over the past weeks. Rocco’s parting comment was the kicker. They were family, all right. Quite the family. But that wasn’t even the bad bit. If he was going to have Briony in his life all year, he had to somehow come to terms with the fact that with her, came all these bikers, too. It was a dark world he wasn’t sure he wanted in on. One he wasn’t sure it was a good idea for him to be in on, ever.

And? Exactly. Why he gave a rat’s ass about what or who Briony did was beyond him, but his body cared. It cared a lot, and the more he was around her, the more his heart cared, too. He was jealous of the way she was around her biker boys. Jealous of anyone who spent more time with her than he did. Not in the way his body raged at how she was around Martinez, but in the fact that he tensed thinking that she cared more about them than him.

So she liked to rescue lost things, and the gang was her answer to family, sure. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. Seriously, Knight? Get over it.

Cole shook his head and rolled over to start counting sheep. Once he’d gotten to sheep number fifty-six, it was pretty clear sleep was not coming. Time to finish their earlier conversation. “Screw it.”

His room was in the other wing from Briony’s, but it didn’t take long to get there as his bare feet ate up the distance. He took a breath at the door. There was music on, a voice, maybe two? A cold hand of anger gripped his heart and gave it a mighty squeeze. He pushed open the door and stopped dead at the scene in front of him. “Seems someone forgot to invite me to the party,” he snarled.

The music kept playing, but the other noises dropped away as Hade and his girlfriend, Lee, and a few random bikers he didn’t recognize put down their glasses and lifted their faces to eyeball him. Swaying to the music with her back to him, Briony mustn’t have heard him with the music up loud.

Cole watched a male hand with its fingers splayed across the small of her back. Martinez, of course. She was dancing with the tall, dark-haired biker, his arms casually wrapped around her waist. And the best part? She had her leather jacket on as usual, but her leather pants seemed to have shrunk into the shortest miniskirt he’d ever seen.

Cole slammed the door behind him. “I said,” he growled over the music, “someone must have forgotten to invite me to the party.”

Briony jumped and turned toward him. For a moment, Cole’s body surged with the reaction to seeing her dressed only in the denim mini, a low-cut cotton crop top, and her red leather vest, but his mind shut it down. Fast.

Cole crossed to the stereo and turned the volume knob down. What are you doing? He was getting answers. Wasn’t he? “So. Bar get boring, did it? Although I guess there’s more privacy up here for you and your boys.”

“We were just having a little private party. Bri had to shut down the bar ’cause someone broke the toilet,” Hade said nonchalantly from the back of the room, his girlfriend sitting limply on his lap.

“That right?” Cole said.

“Yep. You saying you don’t believe us?” Martinez put a protective hand on Briony’s shoulder.

For a moment Cole didn’t see Briony and Martinez. It was Martha in front of him. Martha and her new lover. History repeating, history that he didn’t need. The room swam back into focus. No. Our history is ours to shape. He would not be made a fool of. Not again. Cole didn’t take his eyes off Briony, and for a minute it looked like she wasn’t going to add anything. Then she looked up at him and the flash of dark night in her eyes made his breath catch. “There’s nothing here to see. Go back to bed. We can talk in the morning.”

Nothing to see? “Oh, I think there’s plenty to see. Only I’m not sure I like who you’re sharing the view with. You might think this is all about family, but this one here has got brotherly love mixed up with something else.”

“You don’t like it? And what makes you think you get a say?” Martinez stepped out from behind Briony and took a step toward Cole.

“I know it’s hard to let go of your little Bri-bird, but she’s engaged to me. And no one but me gets to see her in her underwear.” Cole took a step farther into the room.

“This is hardly underwear,” Briony said but Cole’s eyes were locked with Martinez’s now.

“I say she gets to do whatever she wants with whoever she wants.” Martinez took another step closer.

“And I say she doesn’t.” Cole could smell the bourbon on the other man’s breath now. Bourbon and the sharp tang of adrenaline-laced anger.

Martinez took a swing, but Cole sidestepped and the fist swung wide. “You’re going to have to do better than that,” Cole said, the words barely making it out between his bared teeth. “Or at least sober up.”

“Down, boys. I’m right here, you know. And we’re not living in the fifties. I don’t need a man to speak for me.” Briony stepped in between them.

Martinez smiled and poked a finger in Cole’s chest. “See? The lady wants to hang with me.”

Cole took hold of the man’s finger and pushed it away. “That’s not what she said.”

“Enough,” Briony said and shoved them back from each other. “Put your dicks back in your pants, both of you. I don’t need a pissing contest in my room.”

Cole let the flicker of a smile lift his lips but then reformed them in a straight line, never taking his eyes off Martinez. “We’ll be fine as soon as this guy learns some manners.”

“Manners? Ha, you can talk. Think you’re the big man with all your money and your fancy suits? Money isn’t everything. Boys and me are family here.”

“I know it. And I’m not worried about the others. It’s just you who has your priorities wrong.”

Martinez snorted. “My priorities are just fine. Bet you wouldn’t last two seconds on the road.”

“You wanna test me?”

All the men in the room laughed and Hade crossed to stand beside his friend. “Really? You want to take him on in a race?”

“Chickening out now it’s getting real?” Cole said.

Martinez scoffed and the tension in the room eased. “Not a chance. See you out front in ten minutes. You might need to put some shoes on.” He nodded pointedly at Cole’s bare feet.

“No. Wait. Marnz. This is madness. He doesn’t have a bike here.”

“You not going to lend me yours?” Cole finally tore his eyes away from the biker’s and looked down at Briony. She stood shifting her gaze from one man to the other. The two of them dwarfed her tiny frame. There was fear in her eyes. Fear of what?

She bit her lip. “Didn’t you crash the last time you rode? My bike isn’t for beginners.”

Martinez roared with laughter. “That’s too perfect. Come on, let’s race. You won’t last ten miles.”

“I crashed my pop’s bike years ago. I didn’t crash mine.” He waved Briony off. “Forget it. You’ll have to wait while I go and get her,” he said to Martinez.

“Cop-out,” one of the others muttered.

Martinez’s eyes narrowed. “Hold on. What sort of bike do you have?”

“Ducati 1098 series,” Cole said.

Martinez’s jaw dropped.

“One of the boys will lend you a bike,” Hade said.

Cole let himself smile. “Fine. Wouldn’t want to inconvenience you,” he said to Briony.

“That’s not it. I just—”

Cole held up a hand. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does.” She took his hand. “You don’t have to do this. Don’t be an idiot. You could get hurt.”

“That’s right. Might break a nail.” Martinez laughed and the others joined in.

“That bike come with a jacket and helmet?” Cole asked.

Hade looked at one of the others and nodded.

“What are we waiting for, then?”

* * *

The bike wasn’t a bad ride. Full chrome with the obligatory Raising Hellfire flames painted down its tank, it had a decent motor on it. Sure, it wasn’t his Ducati, but Martinez was at least playing fair. The two bikes had the same horsepower and from its revving action, it sounded like Cole’s bike was a well-tuned machine.

“We race down to the beach.”

“What about police?” Cole asked.

“What about them?”

“I can’t afford to push my luck.”

Martinez gave him a sideways look. “Pretty little hot shot like you? Who woulda thought you had anything to worry about? Okay, we don’t race till we get to the hills. There won’t be any cops out up there this time of night.”

Cole nodded.

“Don’t be an idiot. The roads will be slippery as hell in the hills after all this rain, and the light is crap out there. This is a stupid idea.” Briony had come down and was standing shivering in her short skirt and crop top.

“Well, if your boy here wants to go back inside he’s welcome to.” Cole pulled the helmet over his head.

Martinez pushed out his chest. “Hell’s Boys don’t back down.”

“Great motto. Bet that gets you all the girls,” Cole snarled.

“Don’t do this.” Briony was looking at Martinez, trying, Cole guessed, to get the guy to go easy on him. Well, screw that.

“Come on, big boy. Time to show Briony what you’re made of, which I’m guessing isn’t much.”

Martinez snorted. “More than what you’re made of, Slick. She’s giving you an out. Last chance to say you’re sorry and leave Bri the hell alone.”

“Not going to happen,” Cole said through gritted teeth. He dropped down his visor and gave the bike another rev.

The biker shrugged and pushed his helmet on.

The two of them eased out of the parking lot, the look of pain in Briony’s eyes etched in Cole’s mind as he drove away. All his anger, all his frustrations, all the worries around his development knotted themselves together in his chest and formed an aching ball of ice. Briony. What if her fear was for Martinez, not him? He shook his head. He was not going to be the loser again. Not like he had been with Martha. Despite their start, Briony was his fiancée and that counted for something, at least in his family. He was going to win this race. And win back the smile that he’d seen on Briony’s face when they talked about their designs together. She was his. Period.

As they drove through the city streets on the way to the hills, Cole stayed behind Martinez, his taillight a flickering beacon in the murky evening. But when they reached the hills, Cole put on a burst of speed and overtook the biker, giving his bike its head and relishing the sheer power of the motor. This was more like it. He started to get into his race zone, the thrill he used to relish as a teenager. He felt the torque of the bike through his legs, let its rumble drive into his muscles. When he was younger he’d been running from himself, using speed as a means to escape. Now he was using it to chase something he wanted. Something he needed. Briony.

As each corner came, he leaned into it and along the straights he crouched low, almost hugging the barrel of the tank. The wind tore at him and he welcomed it, using the punishing force of it to shake out his mind. This race was about honor, not ego. Wasn’t it? As the number of corners increased he couldn’t stay in his numbed state and with each new twist he found himself picturing a curve on Briony’s body. A deep right-hand bend, her hip. The next, the underside of her breast. This, the soft skin behind her knee.

The roar of Martinez’s bike came up behind him and Cole snapped his attention back to the road. Briony was his. Martinez was going to back off. Looking ahead he saw the next corner was a hairpin coupled with a steep incline. The cliff wall on his right cut off all options for taking the corner wrong. He flicked a look over his shoulder and saw Martinez coming up. Fast. Screw it. He gunned the bike and prepared to take the corner hard, but Martinez anticipated him and screamed past, his bike whining at the acceleration.

Cole pushed his bike to chase, ignoring the speed. They’d left the speed limit back down on the flats of the city, but as he came up to the crest of the corner he saw lights coming up the road.

Hugging the side of the hill he kept his speed, but didn’t push it anymore. To take the corner head-on he needed to swing out wide. Martinez must have checked his rearview mirror and seen Cole as he lifted a hand and gave Cole the one-fingered salute just before—

Brakes on. Swerve hard. Tires screaming. Lights in his face. Pieces of bike flying, bouncing off the cliff. Cole’s whole body tightened for impact till he stopped, breathless, twenty yards from the bend.

The car horn bled a lonely beeeeeep into the darkness and the drizzle turned to rain. Real rain. Other than that it was silent. Deadly silent.