Secretly His: A forbidden MC Romance

The roar of motorcycles split the afternoon wide open. Dani Rivera dropped her tattoo machine mid-line, ink bleeding a shaky trail across her client’s shoulder. “Jesus Christ,” she muttered, snatching the machine away. “Hold still—unless you want your eagle to look like it had a seizure.” Outside, the street shook beneath the thunder of V-twin engines. She didn’t need to look to know who it was. Steel Vultures rolled in like a damn earthquake. Loud. Flashy. Disrespectful. And way too proud of themselves. Her client raised an eyebrow. “MC trouble?” “Just the usual circus,” Dani said, standing. “Give me five.” She shoved through the front door of her studio, sun hitting her face and fury boiling right beneath the surface. And there he was—front and center, like a damn demon summoned from her worst memories. Jax Maddox. Black denim. Leather cut. Blood-stained boots and a mouth made to start fights. He leaned against his bike like he hadn’t ghosted this town five years ago without a single goddamn word. He looked older. Harder. And still so ridiculously good-looking it made her want to punch something. “Well, f**k me sideways,” he drawled, eyes dragging down her frame like a slow strip. “Little Dani grew up.” “Shut up,” she snapped. “And get your dog-and-pony parade off my street.” Jax just smirked. “That any way to greet an old friend?” “You’re not my friend.” “Your brother disagrees.” “And he’s clearly lost his goddamn mind.” Behind him, a few other Vultures dismounted, lighting cigarettes, checking weapons, one of them already pissing in the alley beside her building. Her fists clenched. “Tell your boys to stop marking their territory. This isn’t your f*****g clubhouse.” Jax turned, whistled once. The guy zipped up and muttered a half-assed “sorry.” Jax faced her again. “Happy?” “I won’t be until you’re out of my f*****g life.” He took a step forward. Then another. Until he was close enough she could smell the gasoline, leather, and danger clinging to his skin like a second scent. “You really still hate me that much?” he asked, voice low. Dani glared. “I don’t hate you.” He raised an eyebrow. “I loathe you.” A beat passed between them. Electricity. Pure venom and heat. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Just for a second. But enough to set her nerves on fire. “That’s cute,” he said. “Maybe you’ll loathe me a little less after I crash at your place tonight.” She blinked. “The hell you are.” “Rico’s orders.” “He’s out of his goddamn mind.” Jax leaned in, voice like a threat and a promise. “Get used to seeing me, Dani. I’m not going anywhere.” And then he turned—again, just f***ing turned—and walked into her studio like it belonged to him. Like she belonged to him. And the worst part? For one split second, she wanted to follow. Instead, she turned to the nearest Vulture and hissed, “If one of you even breathes on my f*****g windows, I swear to God I’ll put my boot so far up your ass—” “Dani!” her client called from inside. “Are you gonna finish the eagle, or…?” She closed her eyes, drew a sharp breath, and muttered under it. “Welcome back, asshole.” Let the war begin.