Crossroads (Beautiful Biker MC Romance Series) - DD Prince Page 0,37

there.

***

I went from a dead sleep to moving, fast… very fast. Dizzy and being dragged toward consciousness while bouncing because I was moving through darkness. A door slammed behind us.

What? Us? Someone was running with me in their arms.

I opened my mouth to say something, ask something, protest… but ear-piercing noise ripped through the space. Glass shattered. There was a whoosh sound followed immediately by a big bang.

We were moving forward in the pitch dark. Someone had me. Who?

Shadows moved into the hallway ahead of us. Edge and Delia? I was in Christian Forker’s arms, half wrapped in the blanket that was on the bed I’d been sleeping in, and then we were outside, on the lawn.

He set me down but didn’t let go. He was on his knees, arms still around me and I could feel his heart hammering against me. He was trying to catch his breath.

I stared at the building, watching the guestroom I was in as it became engulfed with red. The window had been shattered and the curtains, I could see, were on fire. It was on the main floor of the raised bungalow, next to the bathroom, which was next to Delia and Rudy’s room.

My eyes shot to Delia, whose face was shocked as she stared at her house from Edge’s arms beside us. He held onto her as she cried, staring. Edge was holding her while on the phone talking to a 9-11 operator.

I was sitting on the lawn, half wrapped in a blanket, in my underwear and a tank top.

I looked at Christian. He was in a muscle shirt, jeans, and had his boots on. He let go of me and turned to look at the house.

I blinked a couple times and frowned at his back.

His head turned and those eyes met mine and traveled my face with a look of worry. I stared in shock.

He blew out a breath and thrust his hands through his hair, then squatted and began rifling through the blanket he had around me, which struck me as odd as it somewhat exposed me sitting there in my panties, but then I saw he’d pulled out the dark trackpants from the tracksuit that Delia had put on the end of the bed for me. He handed them to me. I stared at them.

“Who… what?” I asked Christian.

He took the trackpants from me and started shimmying them over my bare feet.

“She okay? She okay?” Delia went frantic suddenly and came at me, going to her knees in front of me.

“You okay?” She had my face in her hands.

“She’s just shook. I got her out before it happened,” Christian said.

I nodded. “I’m okay. You guys?” I stared at them. “Your house, Aunt Delia…”

She stared at it.

“Yeah,” she said.

I heard sirens.

“Stand up, baby. Pull those up.” Christian said when he helped me to my feet, pulling up the trackpants he’d put around my ankles up to my waist. His hands stopped and rested on my hips for a second. I stared at him, blinking, processing. He let go of me and shook out the blanket. No sign of the sweatshirt. My shirt was in that room. My jeans. My shoes. My phone.

Edge was walking away from us, speaking into his phone. “We’re all fine, but the guest room in the house was firebombed. Yeah. All of us are out front. Jojo’d been sleepin’ in there but Fork got her out right before. Pretty sure it’s cuz my bike was in the driveway.”

The blanket was wrapped around my shoulders. I looked up at Christian’s face.

“Thank you,” I muttered.

It was June. It wasn’t cold. But, I was shivering.

***

We were now at the clubhouse and I’d slept on a couch in one of the bigger common rooms with biker honor guards Edge and Christian. It was after five o’clock in the morning when we got there and twice I woke up gasping my way out of nightmares I couldn’t recall. The first time, Christian sat straight up.

I flipped over the other way and closed my eyes.

The second time, Edge grabbed me and hugged me. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” he said and then tucked me back in.

Delia had offered to put me in a guest room, but I’d grabbed her hands and gave her a pleading look. “I don’t think I can be closed up in one of those windowless guest rooms tonight, Aunt Delia. I’ll sleep here on a couch.”

It was a Sunday night slash Monday morning and quiet in the clubhouse, but she