Claimed By My Father’s Outlaw

Chapter 4

COLE

“Great!” she muttered somewhere near me. “Perfect timing.”

I could barely see her outline, just the faint shape of her shoulders in the dim glow from outside. The rain roared even louder now, hitting against the roof like it wanted to get in.

I was angry and dripping from head to toe, and very aware of how close she was. I should’ve turned around and walked out right then, let the rain soak me to the bone. But I didn’t move a single inch.

Then I heard her move, shuffling across the concrete floor until a small beam of light flicked on.

“Relax.” She muttered, placing her phone on the worktable. The flashlight threw a pale glow across her face and the grease on her hands. “Power goes out all the time when it rains this hard. Guess the city’s budget doesn’t stretch far enough to fix wiring on this side of town.”

I leaned back against my bike “Is that so?”

“Yeah.” She ran a hand over her face, leaving a streak of black on her cheek. “Every time there’s a storm, boom, no lights, no water pressure and sometimes no cell service either. Meanwhile, Revenant territory is still shining like a Christmas tree. It must be nice to live where people actually pay their taxes.”

I nearly laughed. If only she knew that I was a Revenant myself!

She grabbed a rag and wiped at her face, only managing to smear the dirt more. “It’s annoying, you know? I got a car that needs a full paint job before sunset, and now I have to wait till the power comes back. Do they think the customers care about the weather? Nah, they’ll just scream about deadlines!”

“You paint cars too?” I asked, pretending to fiddle with my gloves.

“Yeah. Someone has got to keep this place running.” She looked at me briefly, her eyes glinting under the scanty light. “My old man is busy being a biker president, and my sister is more interested in cooking. So, here I am, queen of grease and engine fumes.”

There was pride in her tone, even though her words were from frustration. I didn’t know why, but I wanted to keep her talking. Maybe it was the way her mouth jutted up at the end when she got riled up, or the way her voice had a faint gravel underneath.

“So, your dad runs the Iron Serpents,” I said casually, watching her expression go dark.

“Yeah,” she replied. “Though he runs his mouth more than he runs the club these days.” She picked up a wrench, twirling it between her fingers like a cigarette. “Why? You sound like you’ve heard of us.”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” She narrowed her eyes at me. “What club are you from, anyway?”

“Just a traveler,” I muttered, hoping that’d end it.

She snorted. “Bullshit! That bike is way more expensive than someone a 'traveler' would ride. Also, you ride like someone who has been in a club since birth. What patch do you wear?”

I didn’t answer.

“Come on!” She pushed. “You walk in here twice in two days, with that fancy bike and that attitude. I’m betting you’re one of the Jackals. Or maybe the Reapers? You certainly have that energy.”

The corner of my jaw went tight. “You ask too many questions, woman.”

“Maybe because you look like you’re hiding something,” she looked me up and down. “Are you scared I’ll find out you’re not as mysterious as you pretend to be?”

She shook her head, and her scent reached my nose. I looked away, trying to focus on the rain outside, the distant crash of thunder, anything but that sweet, sweaty smell.

“Well?" She goaded. "Are you gonna tell me or what?”

“No.”

“No?” Her eyebrow arched. “What kind of grown man acts like a secret agent over a damn bike club? Don't worry, my dad's not here to beat you up.”

I was dangerously close to losing my temper or control, I wasn’t sure which. The way she looked right at me was unnerving.

“Guess you’re just scared.” She went on, grinning now.

“Scared?”

“Yeah. You probably—”

I didn’t let her finish. I moved before I could stop myself, catching her jaw with my hand and pressing my mouth to hers.

I thought she’d pull away. But her lips were warm and soft, and God help me, I didn’t want to stop.

She resisted the kiss at first, clutching my shirt's collar and trying to push me away. I could feel the sheer strength behind her grip; the suppressed energy. This was a physically strong woman in every way.

A whimper slipped from her lips, and I released a growl of satisfaction. Pulling her closer, I dug my fingers into her waist, pressing her against my torso. I could feel every curve and every arc that made her subliminally woman. She was beautiful in and out, and I felt myself reacting to her body against mine.

Finally, she let go of her restraints and collapsed against me, as supple and as boneless as ever. She surrendered herself to the pressure of my kiss, and I backed her up against the wall, pressing kisses against her lips, her neck, her face.

I didn’t care that this was wrong: hell, she was half my age and the daughter of the one man I should never touch but in that moment, nothing else mattered.

I was gone. Completely gone.

Then all of a sudden, a pair of rough hands grabbed my shoulder and yanked me backward with enough force to rip me from her.

“REVENANT BASTARD!” a voice roared behind me. And before I could turn, a fist slammed into my face, splitting my lip and making the room spin in my eyes.