Dixon (Dark Falcons #1) - Em Petrova Page 0,14

tonight in a show of ownership—he and the guys would hold them off until they could drive them out for good.

He felt that time approaching, bearing down on his shoulders. Their ranks far outweighed the Dark Falcons’. When push came to shove—and it would—something big would go down in order to end it.

He rolled up in front of the shop and cut the engine so as not to wake his parents. His cock still bulged from those stolen kisses. Hell, now he couldn’t think of anything but sliding between Fiona’s round thighs and making her his.

That thought startled him. As he pushed his bike inside the garage and closed the door for the night, he tried like hell to understand his own thinking. There seemed no reason for this possessive streak he had for the woman.

She proved herself far from helpless. She didn’t need him, and made that clear on several occasions. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to throw himself in front of her, take a damn bullet for her.

He glanced at the clock on the shop wall. Almost three in the morning.

Tomorrow, he’d rush through his work and head over to the bar again. Maybe he could convince her to give him a chance. It wouldn’t all fall on luck—he remembered the way she responded to his kisses and touch.

Chapter Four

Dixon parked his bike in the far corner of the parking lot and climbed off his bike. He took a moment to remove his helmet and hang it off the handlebar, and then he turned to the front of the Painted Pig.

He noticed Fiona came to work a couple hours before the bar opened, and he hoped to catch her alone. He hoped to convince her that he wasn’t a bad guy and figured he had a better chance of her running away from him.

As he reached for the door, he got a call. He stepped back to bring the phone to his ear. Tank’s voice projected into his head, gritty with anger.

“Get to the old trail head. Now.”

“Tank, what the hell’s going on?”

“Just fucking meet us there.”

With a growl, Dixon strode across the lot and hopped on his bike. So much for catching Fiona alone. The woman worked nonstop hours, and his only chance of seeing her without thirty drinking buddies around them was now.

Years ago, a major hiking trail had been renovated. The path had been cut through a less treacherous landscape to make it safer for hikers in the area. But the old trail head continued to be a place where kids went to drink, party or have sex.

As soon as he reached the pull-off, he spotted Tank and Rio’s bikes. The pair stood there looking like they were about to break some necks.

He cut the engine. “What’s up?”

Rio jerked his jaw toward the incline. “Saw some Mayhem going down there a few minutes ago.”

“And you think they’re causing trouble?”

“My sister told me about some of her friends scoring drugs down here.”

Dixon’s body froze as cold rage hit his system. Setting his jaw hard, he said, “Let’s go.”

They took off walking with Dixon in the lead and the others close behind. Since the bar fight between he and tank and the Mayhem members, everything went relatively quiet. He felt it back-building.

The dirt and rocks underfoot had grown smooth over time, and Dixon was forced to watch his step or risk a fall. He angled his boots to the side and rushed down the hill. At the bottom, he caught movement in the trees.

Throwing out a hand to stop the others, he peeked through the foliage. He made out two adolescent boys and a couple big guys. As a member moved, Dixon spotted the colors of the Mayhem patches on their backs. Yellow and orange, like flaming beacons to him that Rio was right about these assholes selling drugs to kids.

He might be big, but he could sneak without being detected. Years of training and experience had him placing his feet in ways his step would be muffled if heard at all. When he circled the group and popped out behind the kids, one of the gang members narrowed his eyes on him.

“Get outta here, kids,” Dixon growled. He took a good look at their faces. Later on, he’d be paying each a visit and putting the fear of Jesus in the little shitheads.

“What the hell you think you’re doing here, piss ant?” The biker spread his legs wide in a menacing stance.

“What the hell