The Biker's Teacher

The Chase

CLAIRE

"Get on the bike, Claire."

"I'm going home, Levi," I murmured as I reached down, my fingers finally closing around my dropped keys. "In my own car."

A dark, amused chuckle brushed against the shell of my ear. "I didn't ask what your plans were."

"I am not leaving my car in a club parking lot," I hissed, finally turning around to face him. It was a mistake. Up close, the sheer size of him was overwhelming. The dark ink of his neck tattoos disappearing into the collar of his tailored shirt, a stark contrast to the sophisticated doctor persona he wore during the day.

"It'll be here tomorrow," he murmured, leaning down slightly so his dark eyes locked onto mine. "Or it won't. I don't really care. But you aren't driving tonight."

He reached past me, took the keys directly out of my hand, and tossed them carelessly into his bike storage.Before I could protest, he unhooked a spare matte-black helmet hanging from his bike's frame and held it out to me.

"You have two choices, little teacher," he said, a dangerous, lazy smile touching the corners of his lips. "You put the helmet on yourself. Or I put it on you, lift you onto that seat, and we find out exactly how loud you can scream when we hit eighty on the highway."

My heart hammered against my ribs, a chaotic mix of fear and a thrill I hated myself for feeling. I looked from the helmet to his eyes. He wasn't bluffing.

I held his gaze, my jaw tight as the cool night air whipped a strand of hair across my face. We weren't friends.He was a dangerous silhouette from a diner three months ago, a man who had invaded my life and my headspace without permission.

"No," I countered, my voice cutting through the quiet of the lot. "I’m not getting on your bike, Levi. I don't know you."

"You know exactly who I am, Claire," he murmured, stepping closer until the heavy leather of his jacket brushed against my bare arms.

"Knowing your name doesn't mean I'm getting on a motorcycle with you," I argued, pressing my back flat against my car door, wishing I could melt through the metal. "Let me have my keys. I’m going home."

He dropped the matte-black helmet onto the seat of his bike, the heavy plastic clattering against the metal. In one fluid, terrifyingly fast motion, he closed the remaining distance between us. Before I could even gasp, his large hands clamped around my waist

"Levi! Put me down!" I gasped, my hands automatically flying to his broad shoulders to push him away.

"I gave you a choice, little teacher," he growled low in his throat, as he carried me toward his idling motorcycle. "You chose the hard way."

As my feet swung through the air, my heel caught the edge of the car door. I didn't think. I just kicked off the metal frame with everything I had.

The unexpected leverage threw him off balance. Levi stumbled forward, his boot catching on the kickstand of his own motorcycle. We went down together in a heavy, tangled heap of limbs against the wet asphalt just as the sky finally opened up, drenching us in a sudden, icy downpour.

I scrambled up on all fours, my hands scraping against the gritty pavement.I just lunged for his bike, which had tipped precariously under his weight. My fingers tore through the open leather pouch near his handlebars, blindly feeling past a pack of cigarettes until they wrapped around my heavy metal keychain.

"Claire, stop," he growled. I threw myself into my car, slammed the door, and hit the lock button with a trembling thumb. The locks clicked into place just as his shadow blocked my window.

My hands shook so hard I dropped the keys twice into the footwell. On the third try, I jammed them into the ignition, twisted, and threw the car into reverse. I didn't look back as I sped out of the lot, the wipers struggling to clear the torrential rain.

The tires screeched against the wet asphalt as I tore out of the club parking lot, my heart hammering a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I threw the car into drive, my eyes locked on the rearview mirror. Levi’s silhouette was already growing smaller.

I breathed out a ragged, shaking breath, forcing myself to focus on the dark road ahead. I got away. I actually got away.

Then, the dashboard flickered.The familiar, rhythmic ticking sound from under the hood suddenly warped into a harsh, metallic grinding noise.

"No, no, no," I pleaded, hitting the steering wheel with the palm of my hand. "Not right now. Please."

The gas pedal went completely dead under my foot. The engine gave one final, pathetic shudder and died, leaving the sedan coasting on residual momentum. The headlights dimmed to a dull, useless amber glow before cutting out entirely, plunging the interior of the car into pitch darkness.

A sudden flash of lightning illuminated the flooded road behind me, casting long, jagged shadows through the trees. In that split second of light, I saw it.

A lone, matte-black motorcycle, cutting through the sheets . The single, piercing LED headlight sliced through the darkness, growing larger and brighter with terrifying speed. He knew my car better than I did, and he had simply waited for the inevitable.

The low, guttural snarl of the Harley engine rumbled through the floorboards of my dead sedan, vibrating straight into my bones. The headlight washed over my rearview mirror, blinding me, before the bike finally idle-stopped right alongside my driver's side door.