Princess Wrapped in Leather

Chapter 10

Sam

The bar is called The Rusty Spoke, and it's exactly the kind of place I expected—dim lighting, neon beer signs on the walls, the smell of cigarettes and stale alcohol hanging in the air. There's a pool table in the back corner where a couple of guys are playing, and the bar itself runs along the left wall, lined with stools that have seen better days.

I chose this place because I heard some of the guys at the graduation party mention it. One of them said something about "the Spoke" and another guy laughed and said, "That's Jackal territory now."

Jackals. Another motorcycle club. One my dad's crew has had issues with before.

If Tina was taken, if she was at that party and someone grabbed her—this is where I'd start looking.

I sit at the bar, trying to look casual, like I belong here. I ordered a Coke—I'm not stupid enough to drink when I'm alone in a place like this—and I've been nursing it for twenty minutes, watching the room in the mirror behind the bar.

My heart is pounding so hard I'm surprised no one can hear it.

There are maybe a dozen people here. A few guys at the pool table. A couple sitting in a booth near the back. Three men at the far end of the bar, all wearing leather vests with patches I don't recognize.

I'm trying to see if any of them look familiar. Trying to see if anyone here was at the graduation party.

But mostly, I'm just trying not to look terrified.

"You lost, sweetheart?"

The voice comes from my right, and I turn to see a man sliding onto the stool next to me. He's maybe mid-thirties, with a shaved head and a thick beard. His leather vest has a patch on the back—a snarling jackal's head.

My stomach tightens.

"No," I say, keeping my voice steady. "Just having a drink."

"Yeah?" He leans closer, and I can smell the whiskey on his breath. "You don't look like you belong here."

I force a smile. "I'm just waiting for someone."

"Who?"

"A friend."

"What's your friend's name?"

My mind races. I don't know what to say. I don't have a name ready. I didn't think this through.

"She's running late," I say, trying to sound casual. "I'm sure she'll be here soon."

The guy grins, and it's not a friendly grin. "You sure about that? Because it looks to me like you're here alone. And a pretty girl like you shouldn't be alone in a place like this."

He reaches out, his hand moving toward my arm, and panic flares in my chest.

And then, suddenly, there's someone else beside me.

"Sorry I'm late, babe."

I freeze.

That voice.

Knox.

He slides onto the stool on my other side, his arm slipping around my shoulders like it's the most natural thing in the world. His hand rests on my upper arm, warm and solid, and he leans in close enough that I can feel his breath against my hair.

"Traffic was a nightmare," he says, his voice easy and relaxed, like we've done this a thousand times before.

I stare at him, my mouth half-open, my brain struggling to catch up.

What is he doing here?

Knox doesn't look at me. He's looking at the guy next to me, his expression calm but his eyes hard.

"Who's your friend?" Knox asks, his tone light but with an edge underneath.

The guy with the beard looks between us, his grin fading slightly. "Just making conversation."

"Yeah?" Knox's arm tightens around me, just a little. "Well, she's with me. So you can go make conversation somewhere else."

The guy's jaw tightens, and for a second I think he's going to push back. But then he glances at Knox's vest—the patches that mark him as part of my dad's crew—and something shifts in his expression.

"No problem, man," he says, holding up his hands. "Didn't know she was taken."

He gets up and walks back toward the pool table, and I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding.

Knox's arm is still around me.

I turn to look at him, my heart racing for an entirely different reason now.

"What are you doing here?" I whisper.

"Saving your ass," he says quietly, his eyes still scanning the room. "What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone?"

"I was trying to help find Tina."

"By getting yourself grabbed?" His voice is low, controlled, but I can hear the anger underneath. "Do you have any idea what could

have happened if I hadn't been here?"

"I was fine."

"You were not fine." He finally looks at me, and his eyes are intense, almost fierce. "That guy was about two seconds away from

dragging you out of here. And you wouldn't have been able to stop him."

My throat tightens. I want to argue, but I can't. Because he's right.

I could feel it. The way that guy was looking at me. The way his hand was reaching for my arm.

I was in over my head.

"How did you even know I was here?" I ask.

"I saw you leave the shop. I followed you."

"You followed me?"

"Yeah." His jaw tightens. "Because I knew you were going to do something stupid."

I should be angry. I should tell him he had no right to follow me.

But all I can feel is the warmth of his arm around my shoulders. The solid weight of his presence beside me. The way he stepped in without hesitation, claiming me as his in front of a room full of strangers.

Babe.

He called me babe.

My face feels hot, and I don't know if it's from fear or something else entirely.

"We need to call your dad," Knox says, pulling out his phone with his free hand.

"No. He's going to kill me."

"He's going to kill you either way. But at least this way, you're still alive to get killed."

He dials, and I hear the phone ring once before my dad picks up.

"Knox. What's wrong?"

Knox's voice is calm, matter-of-fact. "I'm at The Rusty Spoke with Sam. One of the Jackals approached her. I stepped in."

There's a pause. Then I hear my dad's voice, low and dangerous, even through the phone.

"Is she okay?"

"She's fine. But you need to get here. Now."

"I'm on my way."

Knox hangs up and slides his phone back into his pocket. His arm is still around me, and I realize I'm leaning into him slightly, my

body instinctively seeking the safety he's offering.

"He's going to be so mad," I whisper.

"Yeah," Knox says. "He is."

We sit there in silence, Knox's arm around me, his body angled slightly toward mine like he's shielding me from the rest of the room.

I can feel the tension in him, the way his eyes keep moving, watching everyone, making sure no one else approaches.

He's protecting me.

And I don't know how to feel about that.

I'm grateful. God, I'm so grateful he was here. I don't want to think about what would have happened if he hadn't shown up.

But I'm also confused. Why was he following me? Why does he care so much?

And why does his arm around me feel so... right?

I glance up at him, and for just a second, he looks down at me. Our eyes meet, and something passes between us—something I don't have words for.

Then he looks away, his jaw tight, and I feel the loss of that connection like a physical thing.

The door to the bar swings open, and my dad walks in.

He's not alone. Bobbie's with him, and two other guys from the crew.

My dad's eyes find me immediately, and the look on his face makes my stomach drop.

He's furious.

He crosses the bar in long strides, and Knox's arm slips away from my shoulders as my dad reaches us.

"Outside," my dad says, his voice low and controlled. "Now."

I slide off the stool, my legs shaky, and follow him toward the door. Knox is right behind me, and I can feel the tension radiating off

both of them.

We step outside into the parking lot, and my dad turns to face me.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was trying to help—"

"You were trying to get yourself killed!" His voice rises, and I flinch. "Do you have any idea what could have happened in there? Do you understand what those men do to girls like you?"

"I know—"

"You don't know!" He runs a hand through his hair, his face tight with anger and fear. "You don't know, Sam, because I've spent your entire life making sure you never had to know. And now you walk into a bar full of Jackals like it's nothing?"

Tears sting my eyes. "I just wanted to help find Tina."

"And what were you going to do if you found her? Huh? Walk up to the guys who took her and ask nicely for her back?"

I don't have an answer for that.

My dad takes a breath, trying to calm himself. Then he looks past me at Knox.

"Thank you," he says quietly. "For being there."

Knox nods. "Of course."

My dad's eyes linger on Knox for a moment, and I see something complicated pass over his face. Gratitude. But also something else.

Something that looks almost like worry.

He doesn't like seeing Knox and me close like that.

But he knows Knox was protecting me. He knows Knox might have just saved my life.

"Take her home," my dad says finally. "Stay with her. Make sure she doesn't do anything else stupid tonight."

"I'm not a child," I say, my voice breaking.

My dad looks at me, and his expression softens just slightly. "No. You're not. But you're my daughter. And I will do whatever it takes

to keep you safe. Even if that means keeping you away from this."

He turns and walks back toward his bike, Bobbie and the others following.

I stand there in the parking lot, my hands shaking, tears running down my face.

Knox steps closer, his voice gentle. "Come on. I'll follow you home."

I nod, not trusting myself to speak.

As I get in my car and start the engine, I catch a glimpse of Knox in my rearview mirror, already on his bike, waiting to follow me.

And I realize something that makes my chest ache:

He's been watching over me this whole time.

Not because my dad told him to.

But because he wants to.

Because he cares.

And I don't know what to do with that.