Bound to the Biker King

5

TESSA

He was a stranger, and I was completely out of my mind to have agreed to this.

There was something about him that screamed trouble. The manner in which he moved—the keenly honed confidence of his stride, the darkness in his eyes—was something lawyers did not possess. At least, not the ones I'd known.

Last night, with tattoos visible and that glacial smile on his face, he had looked as much a gangster than as a lawyer. But this morning, all dressed in a sharp, black suit, all signs of ink concealed under his sleeves, he might have been the genuine article.

For a second, I considered leaving. Leaving before I got caught in whatever whirlwind this man's life was. But then I recalled—he had paid my medical bills. And that meant I owed him.

That meant I had no way out.

I swallowed hard as I sat rigidly in the passenger seat of his car, my fists curled in my lap. The car smelled of leather and something smoky, something very him. The driver was unnervingly serene, one hand on the wheel, the other draped over the gear shift. My body, however, trembled—trembled with fear, with nerves, with the horrific realization that I had no clue what I was doing.

But it wasn't just him I was terrified of. It was Garrett.

Garrett had never hurt me before. Never. But last night changed everything. The manner in which he spoke, the way his mask split—it made me understand that I had never really known him to begin with. And if he had been pretending to be the person he had been presenting himself as all these years, then what else was he capable of doing?

Would he murder me if he so desired?

Shivers ran down my spine. I shifted my face towards the window, attempting to breathe through the tightness in my chest. The city sped by, and I hardly saw it. My mind was running in circles, repeating Garrett's words over and over.

Liar. Thief. Monster.

That was the man I married. That was the man I gave years of trust, love, and faith. And now I was going to stand before him and ask for a divorce.

My stomach rolled with agony. God, what was I doing?

The man next to me adjusted slightly, his hand still on the steering wheel as he held out the other one in my direction. His fingers were long, his hands calloused in a manner that made me wonder what exactly he did with them outside the law.

"Zane Steele Blackwood," he said suavely.

I hesitated before I put my shaking hand in his, feeling his warmth against my own. His hold was solid, not too tight, but firm enough that it was made clear he was a man who never gave an inch.

I swallowed hard to make my voice sound steady. "Tessa Garrett Williams."

The instant the words were out of my mouth, my chest constricted. No, no longer. Garrett's name was no longer mine. I was no longer his, and he was never mine.

I yanked my hand back quickly and apologized. "Tessa Crescent."

Zane nodded purposefully, his face unreadable. If he did think anything of my error, he did not comment.

Instead, he kept his eyes on the road, his fingers lightly drumming against the steering wheel. The tension between us was thick and oppressive before I finally asked the question that had been bothering me since last night.

"Why did you put on your helmet before you left the hospital room?"

He did not glance my way. His eyes were still trained forward, keen and calculating as if he was weighing his words carefully.

"You'll find out soon enough, Tessa," he told me. "When we're finished with this."

That was it. No explanation, no detail. There was something in the way he spoke that sent a shiver down my spine.

I shifted my gaze back to the window, biting my lip as my mind spun with questions. Who the hell was this guy? And what had I just gotten myself into?

I tried to focus, observing the city whizzing by in ribbons of gray and neon. It was foreign—so big, so bright—like I had entered another planet.

How long was it that I had actually seen the city?

The realization constricted my chest. I had been blind. Blind to the truth, blind to my own cage. Four years, Tessa.

Garrett never hit me, never locked me in a room, and yet he had jailed me nonetheless. Creeping, insidious, until I didn't know myself. Until I had come to believe that the meticulous, cramped world he created for me was all that I was worthy of.

Oh, God, how much a fool I'd been.

A knot came into my throat, and I blinked rapidly as tears singed the outside of my eyes. I wouldn't cry for him. Not again. Not now.

"We're here."

Zane's voice tore me out of where I was fixated and into reality. My heart lurched as I forced my eyes away from the window and onto the road stretching ahead of us.

My gut cramped.

This was it.

Garrett's office towered in front of us, shiny—like the ideal life he was faking.

I glared across at Zane, trying to get my voice back. "How do you even know Garrett works here?"

He grinned, a slow, sly curve of his lips that made me shiver.

"I did my homework."

Of course, he did. Before I even had time to process that, he was out of the vehicle, walking over in that reckless ease that was both terrifying and intriguing all at once. And then, to my complete astonishment, he walked over to my door and opened it for me.

My breath caught.

Dangerous and a gentleman. Garrett had been the same initially, smooth and charming and with just the right amount of mystery. But Zane was different. Garrett had been an illusion. Zane was real. And that made me even more afraid.

My legs were foreign on my body. Each step behind Zane was laborious, off-kilter—like walking to my doom.

Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to sever the thread of last connection I had to Garrett?

Zane didn't pause, didn't hesitate. His deliberate, long strides left me with no choice but to follow. We were already inside, in front of a gleaming glass door with Garrett Williams – Managing Director in massive letters, before I could even draw breath.

My gut twisted. And then, as if the world hadn't already embarrassed me enough, I spotted her.

Amanda.

She leaned on the edge of his desk, neatly manicured hands tracing down his chest as if she were the owner of the man. My step-sister. The woman who could have been my sister but was instead the ultimate betrayer.

And Garrett—hopelessly pathetic, desperate Garrett—sprang nearly a foot backward from her at the instant he caught sight of me.

His face went pale.

"Tessa, this isn't what you think," he babbled, his voice striking that shamed, nervous pitch I'd heard too often in the past.

Zane snorted at my side, unconvinced. Silently, he jammed a sheaf of pages into my hands—whitened, smooth, definitive. My fingers closed around them.

"I already know, Garrett," I said, my own voice unnaturally even with the maelstrom of emotion bubbling within me. "I know it all. I know about the lies, the stolen artworks, all your plans. I know you never were the man you seemed to be."

His mouth dropped open and shut but I didn't let him speak.

"I want a divorce."

The words spilled out of my mouth so confidently, so authoritatively, that I caught myself by surprise.

Amanda laughed so hard that she shook her long hair over her shoulder. "Oh, please, Tessa. You're being melodramatic."

Something within me cracked. Before I could think twice, before I could stop myself, my hand sailed through the air—smacked her face.

The noise echoed in the office.

Amanda's head swiveled to the side, her hand whipping to her face, eyes open wide in shock.

I hadn't experienced this kind of anger in a very, very long time.

"Mind your own business," I growled, trembling from head to toe. "You have no right to say anything."

She choked back a gasp, glancing over at Garrett for a rescue, but he was still frozen on me—his expression shifting from guilt to desperation.

"Tessa, please," he said, moving forward. "I know I screwed up, okay? But we can make this right. We can do therapy, we—"

"Sign the papers, Garrett."

His expression hardened.

"No."

Before I could utter another word, before I could even process Garrett's indignation, the cold thrill of a gun c*****g ran shivers down my spine.

I gasped and swiveled my head, and there he was—Zane, beside me, his casual stance but menacing presence, a glinting black handgun pointed directly into Garrett's chest.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

The room fell into ominous silence, the only thing heard was sole sound of the soft tick of the office clock.

Garrett went pale, his Adam's apple bobbing and falling as he swallowed convulsively. Amanda, however, emitted a high, terror-stricken shriek, recoiling, her shaking hands clutched about the desk for support.

"Hi there, Tessa's lawyer. You're going to sign the papers, asshole" Zane told him, his voice unnervingly flat, lacking any emotion. "If you don't, I'm quite sure Tessa wouldn't mind being a widow. In fact, that might even be a better option."

A chill ran through my body.

Did he just—?