Hero (The VII Knights MC)

“So, broken…like I said.” He raises a brow.

Anger blossoms in my chest. My fingernails bury into the palm of my hands. “I am not broken because of some asshole, I am just fine by myself.”

He silently laughs, throwing another rock. It occurs to me he’s trying to get under my skin. He’s an asshole too. All the hot men are.

“See? Smart and beautiful.” My cheeks warm. I know the game and I’m still falling for it.

Stepping over to him, I sit next to him and cross my legs under me. I rub my arms from the sudden chill in the air. It’s usually hot as sin out here, but there’s a cool breeze tonight that has me seeking warmth. I should have worn an actual shirt and not this top that barely covers anything.

“If I’m so smart, I wouldn’t have climbed on the back of a bike with someone I shouldn’t trust.” I flick my gaze to his from under my thick lashes to see his reaction.

He lifts his head, hair falling in his face, but he doesn’t say anything.

“Why shouldn’t I trust you, Godric?”

Silence takes over, and he stands. Sliding off his leather cut, he drapes it over my arms. It’s heavier than I thought, but warm from being on him. It even smells like him.

“I’m going to take a piss. Be right back,” he informs, ignoring my question and walking behind me toward his bike. Pulling the cut onto me more, it swallows and protects me from the harsh rare breeze. God, and it smells like him. I nuzzle under it, and it occurs to me that I feel safe around Godric, regardless of the tough guy act. But why would he tell me not to trust him? He’s probably referring to how he’s a biker. Unfortunately, being around guys like him or a club isn’t new to me. Closing the lapels of the vest, something inside the pocket crinkles. I open it to where the moon shines inside the cut and find a piece of paper. Glancing over my shoulder, I don’t see Godric anywhere, so I slowly slip it from the pocket and open it.

It’s a letter from his dad telling him he has cancer and leads on to three things Godric has to do to become president of the Seven Knights.

This is something Damian would want for sure. If he can interfere, Godric won’t get the club. Reaching inside my pocket, I pull out my phone and take a picture of it. Maybe once Damian sees this, he’ll let me go and I can be free from all this shit once and for all.

The sound of boots crunching behind me has me close the letter, stuff it back into the pocket, and look out at the canyon, my heart beating as loud as a drum inside my chest. He sits back down in the spot he was before and starts tossing rocks over the ledge again.

The three jobs repeat in my head. I expected more crazy shit. Innocent and nice doesn’t come to mind when I look at Godric, so why are the tasks so simplistic? Wouldn’t his dad make it a challenge? Maybe they seem easy because Godric isn’t capable of showing mercy. My nostrils flare, and I suddenly don’t think Godric was telling me not to trust him because he’s in a club. No, he must be much worse.

And I’m in the middle of nowhere with him.

Fuck.

11

Godric

Sitting on the hard ground, I can’t help but keep staring at Monet. She’s something else, something I can’t quiet break and want to break at the same time. Which makes me think of the club and my tasks. Shit. Bellamy is by himself. With everything up in the air with our father’s death, I need to be close by.

Standing up, I brush the dirt from my jeans. “I need to get back.”

Monet climbs to her feet. “Yeah. Me too.” Her voice shakes, and I look at her with curiosity.

She slides the leather cut off, and I watch her closely as she removes her small arms from it and hands it over. My father used to tell me stories about when he met my mother and first put his cut on her. Said he’d put it on dozens of women, but putting it on my mom made him feel different. I don’t know what I’m feeling, but I fucking love the way my leather looks on Monet. It makes her seem…cute. No, not cute. Mine.

I shake off the intrusive thought and slip my cut back on while walking to the motorcycle. That she has to put her arms around me and keep close makes me feel better about having to leave so soon, but I want to get her away from me too. I’m conflicted.

Back on the road, her body heat against my back, I can’t help but like the closeness of another person. We make it to the club sooner than I’d like, and it doesn’t look like things have calmed down any since our absence. Bunch of bikers talking in groups and drinking, music loud as hell, people partying and being obnoxious. Pulling into my spot, I kick out my kickstand, and Monet climbs off faster than before. She turns and looks at me with those big, gorgeous eyes. I still can’t tell the color of them because we only meet in the night it seems.