Friday couldn’t come soon enough. Over the next few days, I came up with a hundred reasons why this was a bad idea. The crew might get the wrong impression. Ed was right about my father. Where the Dark Saints M.C. led, trouble followed. It was all true. Except a deeper truth fueled me even more.

I liked how I felt when I was with Chase. He thrilled me in ways I wasn’t used to. It wasn’t just physical, though it was largely that. He’d made an offhand comment the other night that stuck with me. He said he was no fixer-upper. He wasn’t. And yet, beneath that rough exterior and patch, I felt there was something amazing about Chase Cutter, just waiting to be uncovered.

True to his word, Chase showed up right at eight o’clock. I stood in the hallway waiting. I’d dressed simply, in jeans and a silk blouse. I’d piled my hair into a topknot, pinning it down against the wind.

Chase’s swagger thrilled me as he dismounted and headed up my walk. When he caught sight of me in the doorway, his smile brightened. I realized then I might never get tired of looking at him. Chase Cutter was a throwback to a different kind of man. He was rugged and rough. Sensuality poured out of him with each step.

He stopped before mounting the porch steps so he stood below me. His eyes flicked over me and once again I felt bare. He tilted his head and took a beat before sliding his hands up my arms. His body heat seared through the thin white fabric. Three steps above him, I leaned down a bit to reach him. Chase placed a soft kiss on my lips, but energy sizzled between us with the promise of more.

“You hungry?” he asked.

I think he meant it as an honest question. My instinctive answer flared inside of me. Yes. God, yes.

“You gonna tell me where we’re going or am I supposed to be surprised?” I said.

Chase caught his bottom lip between his teeth and led me down the porch steps by the hand. His booted feet fell heavy on the concrete. A silver chain dangled from his jeans. His Nine was there as always in his hip holster. It seemed an extension of him. I wasn’t against guns. Far from it. My father had always carried one. But with Chase, it was just one more reminder of the danger surrounding him.

As we reached the end of the driveway, I felt the weight of my choice. If I left with him now, this would be more than just casual. He was in it for something more. Was I?

Chase handed me a helmet and put his hands around my waist. I gasped as he lifted me with no effort and helped me onto the bike. When he climbed on in front of me, I slid my arms around his waist. Like before, it felt as natural as breathing. My thighs quivered in anticipation as he started the engine. Wherever Chase planned to take me, we would ride hard and fast tonight.

He did as he promised, taking the coastal highway. The last bands of sunlight trailed along the horizon. It was low tide and the waters of the Gulf of Mexico churned gold.

Once again, this felt like flying. I wished I could tear the helmet off and press my cheek against Chase’s back. I wanted to let the scent of leather envelop me. It was part of him. I think I understood a little of what Ed had tried to tell me. Chase and the Dark Saints weren’t two separate things. That club thrummed through his blood with all the darkness and mystery I’d been warned against my whole life. But I wanted him all to myself. For now, I think that’s what Chase wanted too.

We rode further and further away from Port Azrael, heading northeast up the coast. For a while, I wondered whether he might take me to some secluded part of the beach. It sounded like heaven. We could leave both of our worlds behind and get to know each other. But Chase made a turn and we headed into Crystal Cove, two towns over.

High on a hill overlooking the dunes, Chase pulled into a restaurant I’d never seen before called Haven View. He cut the engine and dismounted.

“What is this place?” I asked, peeling off Chase’s helmet. The restaurant had a huge, wraparound patio. Chase took my hand and led me toward it, bypassing the front entrance.

There were a few patrons at the bayside tables. Chase took me around the corner. From there, we faced the dunes. It was quieter, more secluded. He took a table in the corner and pulled out my chair. The waiter was already standing by holding a bottle of wine.

“Whatever’s on draft for me,” he said. The waiter nodded.

“Same,” I said. “Not much of a wine drinker. I get a headache.”

“One more thing I like about you.”

We made small talk until the waiter came back. We ordered shrimp and lobster. When we were alone again, Chase leaned back in his chair. A cool breeze kicked up, blowing the hair off his collar.

“Is this usual for you?” I asked.

He smiled. “What do you mean?”

“This.” I gestured toward the dunes and back toward the main dining room. “This is a date, Chase Cutter. Is this usual for you?”

That sultry laugh of his skittered across my skin. “I don’t think anything I’ve done since I met you has been usual, Ariel.”

“Oh?” I took a sip from my beer. “Is that a compliment?”

“You can take it as one.”

“Good.” I liked the fact that he felt out of his element with me. It leveled the playing field somehow.

“So,” he said, leaning forward to catch my hand. “How many people have warned you not to get tangled up with me?”

I smiled and didn’t miss a beat. “All of them.”

This got a hearty, startled laugh out of him that shook his whole body. “So why aren’t you listening?”

“That—” I leaned forward—“is the million-dollar question.”

Chase considered my answer. A line creased his forehead and for a moment, he looked downright lethal. But he had that same vulnerability behind his flint-gray eyes that drew me to him in the first place.

“You’re right though,” he said, sitting back in his chair. “I don’t date.”

“I don’t either,” I said, though I knew that fact meant something different for him than it did for me. In my case, it was a function of my lifestyle. I worked long hours, seven days a week. Turning the north side had become my singular passion, eclipsing anything even resembling a social life. For Chase, I knew the opposite had to be true. He didn’t date because he probably didn’t stick around long enough with any one woman. I didn’t know whether to be flattered, offended, or scared off.

“You’re actually going to pull it off, aren’t you?” he said. He took a long sip of beer; his intense stare never wavered from mine. It warmed me in a way that could be dangerous if I weren’t careful.

“Pull what off?”

“The north side. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. Your house, the ones on Beckham and Tower. Hell, even Hutchins now. You’re changing the neighborhood.”

It was my turn to take a long draught of my beer. The cold amber liquid turned warm on the way down, making my head spin just a little. I wanted to be careful this time. The first night with Chase had been fueled by tequila and adrenaline. The second night, we’d both been clear-headed enough to walk away. Tonight though, this was uncharted territory. If I ended up going to bed with him, there would be no denying the strings attached. Strings. Or ropes. God, the most erotic image flashed in my mind of letting Chase do things to me I’d only read about.

“I’m trying,” I said, my voice croaking. I coughed to clear it. “I’m not the only one flipping houses down there. I’m just the most prolific one for now.”

“It only takes one to get the ball rolling. I hope I can say this without coming off, I don’t know, like an asshole. But I think your daddy would be proud.”

I finished off the last of my beer. Chase made a move for the pitcher to refill it. I waved him off. Not yet. I wanted my head clear.

“I hope so. This started out as something I wanted to do to honor him. Now it’s ... I don’t know ... it’s mine. I mean, it makes me feel more connected to him. But I feel like for every house I finish, it becomes something else. It’s somebody’s home. Somebody’s fresh start. So, it’s for them and it’s for Port Azrael, but more than that, it’s for me. I know, I’m going off the rails here and sounding hokey, probably. It’s just ... I don’t know. It saves me.”

“Saves you? What do you need saving from, Ariel?”

I hadn’t meant to spill so much of myself out in the span of a few seconds. The more time I spent with Chase, the more comfortable I became. It had always been just my father and me for so long. After losing my mom, I’d been so scared of losing him. It’s why I spent so much time with him at his shop in the beginning. Then, little by little, his passion became mine.

“I don’t make friends easily,” I said. I did reach for the pitcher this time. I poured half a glass as Chase raised a brow. The foam rose to the top of my glass and I put a finger in it to settle it. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not in a traditionally feminine field. It’s been that way since I was a kid. I’ve been in the shop and on construction sites. I don’t know. Well, you of all people should know. Everybody from the north side had something they were trying to escape, you know?”

Chase went still. I hadn’t meant to conjure painful memories for him. And I didn’t mean to compare my upbringing with his. We’d grown up a few years and a few streets apart, but it might as well have been two different planets.

“I do know. You have your crew and your calling. I have mine.”

“Oh?” I smiled.

Chase pointed to the patch above his left breast. “You know what this means?”

“Tail gunner,” I answered. “I asked you before what you’re chasing.”

He let out a bitter laugh and smiled. “Chase is my road name. I’m not gonna lie. Maybe I’m chasing everything. Tail. Ghosts. You name it. But it’s my job to bring up the rear and watch everyone’s back when we’re on the road. My crew depends on me.”

Chase grew solemn. I couldn’t begin to imagine the level of trust that meant he’d earned.

“Your club saved you?” I asked.

Chase’s eyes flicked to mine. “I’d either already be dead or in jail if it weren’t for my club. So, yeah, I think you’re right, Ariel. We have more in common than a lot of people might think.”

“I’m so sorry you were ever in a position to need saving like that, Chase. I mean it. I wish I’d known you ... before.”

“Before? Before what? Before I became a Saint? There was no before, baby. It’s who I am.”

He said it with dark finality, his words becoming a challenge. He was a Dark Saint. It was in his blood and who he was. If I couldn’t accept it, it was time to walk away. In an instant, I felt as if I stood at the end of a tall cliff with churning waters below. Was I brave enough to leap?

I don’t remember making a conscious choice. But before I knew it, I’d reached across the table and took his hand. The waiter came with the check and I smiled.

“Come on,” I said. “Why don’t you take me home?”