“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ellie asks me, parking just up the road from my place. We circled around the block a few times, but all the spots are taken. Someone must be having a party, because it’s usually quiet.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I assure her, grabbing my things. “Thanks so much for the ride home.”

“There are a lot of cars, are you sure it’s safe for you to walk to your apartment alone? Do you want me to walk you?”

I smile at her. “Honey, then you have to walk back alone. So one of us is walking alone. Rather it be me. Slater would kill me if I let it be you.”

She flushes. “He would. But still, it makes me feel worried.”

I reach over and squeeze her shoulder. “I’m okay, honestly.”

“Is Lucy home?” she asks me.

“I’m not sure, she’s usually out on a Saturday night with her friends, but I’ll be okay.”

Ellie nods, and I climb out of the car, flashing her a smile as I do. I wave and then she drives off. I start walking the couple of houses to my apartment. It isn’t far, four houses away, to be exact. As I reach the front door, I pull out my keys. Lights are out which means Lucy isn’t here, just as I figured. She is young and no doubt enjoying her carefree life. Plus, I think she’s seeing someone, even though she won’t admit that to me.

I unlock the door and walk inside, flicking the lights on.

And stop dead.

Sitting at my table is the man who was watching me few weeks ago. He’s just sitting there, in the dark. How did he get in? Oh God. This is bad. I clutch my purse close, slipping my hand in for my phone.

“Don’t do that, Flower,” the man says, his voice soft, a voice you’d trust if he wasn’t sitting in your house in the dark.

Flower.

What they used to call me at the strip club.

Who is this man?

He’s older, greying hair around the temples, but he’s fit, well built, probably forties. His eyes zone in on me as he looks over me. “You’ve changed quite a bit, but for the better, I believe.”

I stare at him, and for some reason, he seems familiar. I didn’t get a good look at him when he was watching my place, but now that I’m up close, I could almost guarantee I’ve seen him before, I just don’t know where. It must be from the club. But how?

I swallow, still thinking about reaching for my phone, wondering how in the hell I’m going to get away from this creep. What does he want with me? How did he get into my house? How long has he been here? Is Lucy okay? So many questions, but my body is frozen on the spot—I’m so damned scared I can’t move.

“Who are you?” I say, my voice shaky.

“What, you don’t remember me?”

I stare at him, and then it clicks. I don’t know why it took so long, I guess in my fear my mind just wasn’t working. But it is all so clear now. He was the man in the club all those years ago, the one who paid but never got his dance. Is he so sick that he’d honestly hunt me down just to get what he thinks he’s entitled to?

I blink and take a deep, shaky breath. Maybe I can talk my way out of this, because God knows he’s not going to let me call anyone, he’s not going to let me past, and nobody knows he’s here.

“I didn’t do anything wrong back then, you know that.”

“Of course you didn’t. But I paid for something, something I had waited so long for, something that I was entitled to. I watched you for months on that stage, all innocent, sweet, and I knew one day I’d have you. I knew it. And then I got kicked out of that club and never got to take what I wanted. Of course, it took me a while to find you, but then I ran into Yana just a few months ago and she so kindly gave me your name. And, well, I had to time it right. You’re always with someone, or your sister is home, makes it very hard for me to catch you.”

Catch me?

For what?

Yana?

No.

“Please,” I try again, scared. I slip my hand into my purse, curling my fingers around my phone.

“Call anyone, and I will hurt you, Shania. I don’t want to have to do that. Do as I ask and I won’t. It’s not that hard.”

Sick.

Oh, lord, he’s sick.

He stands and strides over to me. I stumble backward, my back slamming into the front door. I have nowhere to go. “Don’t run from me, Shania. I only want what I’ve been dreaming about. I want to watch you dance, I want to make love to you, I want to make you mine. I want what I paid for.”

I’m going to vomit. I am.

“I’m not that person anymore, I’m not innocent anymore, you don’t want to do this. I’m not like I was back then. I’ve changed, been with men, loads of men ...”

That’s a lie.

I haven’t.

But still. I’ll just about say anything right now.

He chuckles, and his fingers stretch out and glide down my cheek, “That doesn’t matter to me. When you’ve waited so long for something, you can skip over a few of the bumps. I just want what I’ve been dreaming about. And age has only made you more beautiful. So, we can either do this the hard way or the easy way.”

This is bad.

This is so bad.

I try to move, but his hand slams down on my shoulder, smashing me hard against the door. “I’d rather not hurt you, Shania. So please, do as I’m asking.”

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” I say, my voice small and scared.

“Firstly” —he lets me go but stays close— “dance for me.”

God.

This is not good.

He’s going to rape me, or worse.

All over some stupid obsession. And Yana, god damn her, if I ever see her again, I’m going to make her wish she never messed with me. My hatred for her is deep, and I’ll make sure one day she gets what’s coming to her. I vow it. Right here and now.

“Please,” I try again.

He leans in and inhales near my ear. I feel sick, but I’m not going to stand here and let him do whatever he wants. If he wants to hurt me, fine, but I’m not going to just roll over and take it. While he’s distracted sniffing me like a fucking creep, I raise my knee. I don’t hit him exactly where I want to, but it’s enough that he stumbles backward with a startled grunt. Then I stomp on his foot, causing him to yowl.

I run past him, still clutching my purse. I dart toward my bedroom, pulling out my phone and very frantically trying to get Lincoln’s number up on my screen. He reaches me before I can dial, curling my hair in his hands and jerking me backward so hard my neck strains and the pain causes me to scream. I squirm and kick as he drags me back down the hall.

“You want to do it the hard way, so be it.”

He throws me onto the sofa and when I go to launch up, his fist connects with my eye, sending me spiraling back down, my world spinning, pain shooting through my head, blood pouring down my cheek. Oh, god. This is going to happen. It’s actually going to happen. I kick and scream and claw as he tries to rip my clothes off. My mind is spinning, ears ringing, and he keeps slapping me, or shoving me, anything to keep me on the sofa.

And then, he’s gone.

For a second, I’m confused, unsure what’s happening, and then I see Lincoln standing there, holding him by the shirt as if he weighs nothing. He raises his big fist and drives it into the man’s face. A loud crack echoes throughout the room, followed by a pained bellow. Another punch knocks the man unconscious. Lincoln drops him to the floor, like he’s nothing more than a rag doll, and his eyes go to me.

And they’re concerned.

They’re scared.

They’re worried.

It’s the first time I’ve ever seen any sort of emotion in Lincoln’s eyes. He strides toward me, the intensity coming off him so powerful I can do nothing but stare. He kneels down to where I’m sprawled out on the sofa, and his thumb goes to the blood trickling down my cheek from my eye—he swipes some of it off. “Did he hurt you, Shania?”

He’s not asking if he hurt me physically, because he can clearly see he did.

He’s asking if he hurt me sexually.

“No,” I whisper.

I can nearly hear the relief explode out of him. He touches my face again, and it feels really nice in this time where I’m terrified out of my mind. “How badly are you hurt?”

“He hit me, jarred my neck when he pulled me down the hall by my hair, but otherwise, I’m okay.”

Lincoln’s face is murderous, but he nods, and says, “Going to call Slater, get some help sorting him out. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.”

“Lincoln?” I ask, as he’s pulling out his phone.

He looks to me. “Yeah?”

“How come you’re here?”

He exhales, and holds my eyes. “Because, I didn’t like how you left. Glad I decided to follow my gut and come over, if I hadn’t—”

“Yeah,” I say, cutting him off. “I know ...”

He nods and keeps making the phone call to Slater. When he’s finished, he hangs up and goes into my kitchen, returning a moment later with a warm, wet washcloth. He sits beside me and wipes the blood off my face, holding my eyes the whole time. And something inside of me changes, right there, in that very second, it just changes. My stomach flutters, and my heart expands. I see Lincoln in a whole different light.

He’s tending to me, being gentle and kind.

And he came after me when I left tonight. He came after me.

Oh, god. Do I have feelings for Lincoln?

I look away from his gaze and tip my head from side to side. My neck is in agony.

“I’m goin’ to run you a bath, you’re goin’ to lay in it, and then I’ll rub that out.”

Rub ... my neck? He’s going to rub my neck? And run me a bath?

My cheeks flush, but I’m not silly enough to deny his help. “Thank you,” I say, genuinely. “And thanks for coming over here.”

He nods, finds something to tie the unconscious man’s hands behind his back as he’ll no doubt wake very soon, and then disappears into my bathroom. He runs the bath, and when he’s done, Malakai, Slater, and Maverick arrive at my place. They arrive just as the man on the floor’s eyes flutter open, and he groans, no doubt feeling pretty shitty. Good. I hope he does feel shitty, the jerk.

“Well, hello there,” Maverick mutters, shoving his boot into the man’s side.

The man’s eyes dart around and settle on the three scary bikers leaning over him. Then they move to Lincoln who is standing beside me.

“You fucked with the wrong girl.” Lincoln grins. “You’re going to regret that.”

“What ...” the man says, eyes getting wide.

“You’re coming for a ride with us,” Malakai grins. “Promise it will be a load of fun.”

The man starts squirming, but Malakai and Maverick haul him up like he weighs nothing and drag him out of the house protesting and begging for them to stop.

Slater walks over, glancing down at me. “Ellie is losing her mind, so let me be able to go and tell her you’re okay. So, are you?”

I nod. “I’m okay, tell her I’ll call her later.”

He nods. “Take it easy.”

He looks to Lincoln, gives him a nod, and then disappears out the door after the other two men. When they’re gone, Lincoln goes over and locks my door. “What happened to the security system I put in to keep you safe?”

I honestly don’t know. Lucy must have forgotten to put it on.

“I honestly don’t know,” I tell him, and it’s the truth. “Lucy is usually really good.”

“Probably snuck in when she was going in and out of her car for something, wouldn’t have been hard,” he mutters, walking over to me and extending a hand. “Come on, time for your bath.”

I take his hand and he pulls me up slowly, leading me toward the bathroom. My heart is going a million miles an hour, I’m nervous and anxious and honestly overwhelmed after tonight’s events. But walking toward the bathroom, Lincoln pulling me makes me feel giddy. Strangely giddy. What suddenly changed? I honestly don’t know.

When we reach the bathroom, Lincoln stops and releases my hand, then turns to me. And oh, god, the intensity in his eyes just about brings me to his knees. He steps forward, and I don’t fight him, hell, I don’t want to fight him. He reaches for the hem of my shirt and starts lifting it over my head. I let him, I want him to. He slips my shirt off, still holding my eyes, and tosses it on the ground. And then he goes for my skirt, slowly moving it down my legs, going with it until he’s on his knees in front of me.

Oh, god. I’m going to die.

He takes hold of my panties and slides them down my body slowly, dragging them, making me so uneasy and aware that I can hardly breathe. When he has them at my feet, I step out of them. I’ve already slowly reached around to remove my bra, which got me a look from him that said he was not impressed with that. His hands curl around my calves and he stands, sliding them up my body, not saying a word, missing all my good bits which only makes me ache—god does it make me ache.

Then he slides his hands down my arms, grips my hands, and pulls me to the tub. I let him take me, I let him help me in, I let him grab that washcloth and slowly drag it all over my body, washing tonight away, making everything that aches feel better. When it glides past my pussy, I’m sure he’s going to stop, but he doesn’t. He just washes me with gentle ease, and then lets the washcloth go and looks at me. My nipples are hard, my body is aching, and I don’t want him to stop.

He leans down, pressing a kiss to my forehead. A kiss that makes me feel warm inside. A kiss that takes the ache right out of my soul, out of my heart. It makes me feel better, for just a second. A single second.

“Have a good bath,” he murmurs, and then just like that, he’s gone.

Leaving me aching.

And needing him.

And wanting him.

But also incredibly grateful to him. Because he could have taken advantage then, he could have used me while I was needing to feel good, but he didn’t. He made sure he didn’t, and that ... Wow ... that means so much to me. There are simply no words.

I think I might have been wrong about Lincoln Knight.

Very very wrong.

~*~*~*~