Biker's Virgin

“Walter Black.”

Officer Stallone looked at me suddenly. When I glanced at him questioningly, he changed the expression. “What was that name again, Walter…?”

“Black.”

Then he had led me to a bench and told me to wait for him there. I had sat there for almost an hour, terrified that Walter was going to walk into the little station, point a gun at my head and shoot. But in all honesty, that was really the best-case scenario if Walter ever found me. I knew him well enough to know that he liked to play with people before he doled out his brand of ‘justice.’

I shook my head and looked around my shoebox apartment. The only two windows had been shut tight, and I had drawn the blinds on them so that nobody could see inside. I glanced at the time. It was now past twelve, and still, there was no sign of Devon. I called him twice, but there was no answer.

I had hated the idea of accepting his protection and staying in the clubhouse that he liked to call his second home, but I didn’t feel like I had a choice anymore. I was so scared that sometimes the fear paralyzed me, and I had this instinct inside me that Walter wasn’t just going to slink into the shadows and disappear from my life. He was not the kind of guy who forgot slights easily. He was going to come after me when I least expected it.

Sometimes in quiet moments like these, it baffled me how I had even gotten involved with someone like Walter Black. He had seemed so different to me at the time. He was tall and definitely imposing in manner and build, and I had to admit, his dangerous look was what had initially drawn my attention.

I remembered the day I had met him as clearly as if it had happened only a few hours ago. I had been walking to work, trying my best to make it on time for once, when I heard the sound of a motorcycle slow down next to me.

“Hello there,” he had called to me, revving the engine slightly.

I had stopped short, mesmerized by the beauty of the machine he was riding. It was gigantic and powerful, but there was a sleek grace to it as well.

“Hi,” I had replied to the blue-eyed stranger who was smiling at me.

“You look like you need to be somewhere in a hurry.”

I smiled. “Work,” I replied. “I’m late.”

“Hop on.”

“I… really?”

“Sure,” he nodded. “I’ll get you there with time to spare.”

Feeling a burst of adrenaline, I had hopped onto the back of his motorbike and told him where I worked. Then, he had taken off down the streets. It had been an amazing feeling, zooming through the roads with the wind in my hair. We had gone so fast at one point that tears had been forced from my eyes.

I was still recalling the memory when my front door flew open, and I screamed in terror. A huge, tall man in a facemask walked in and came straight for me. It was Walter; of course, it was. He had finally come for me. I didn’t even question why he might be wearing a mask, but it had to be him. His size and stature suggested that I was right.

“No,” I screamed as I darted behind the sofa, looking around for some weapon I could use to defend myself.

He didn’t come around the sofa. Instead, he scaled it in one easy step, and he had me cornered just like that. I backed into the wall, determined not to make this easy for him.

He lunged for me, and I tried to claw my way out of my corner, but he grabbed my hands easily, pinned them behind my back, and slung me over his shoulder as though I weighed nothing more than ten pounds. I tried to fight and struggle against him, but his arms were like steel ropes holding me in place.

I started to scream, but then I saw someone else materialize in the doorway, and the screams froze on my tongue.

“Devon?” I gasped.

“Calm down,” he said, holding up his hands. “It’s ok… you’re safe.”

“What—”

The man holding me threw me down onto my sofa and removed the mask so that I could see his face. It wasn’t Walter after all. He had the same height and build… but his features were very different. He had short, dark hair and hazel brown eyes that were piercing in their extreme lightness. He had a strong jaw, and I saw tattoos snaking up his neck.

“Who are you?” I asked softly. “What the hell was this?”

“I wanted to see if you could defend yourself,” he replied before Devon could. “And apparently you’re more helpless than a child.”

I bristled at that. “You broke into my apartment—”

“The person who’s trying to harm you is not going to make an announcement.”