She takes a bite, glaring at me over the bread.
Good.
Angry is better than afraid.
By the time she finishes, color is back in her cheeks. I check the windows again, send Ghost a quick update that Reina won’t stay put and I’m taking her in myself, then grab my cut from the chair.
Reina watches me put it on.
Her gaze catches on the patch.
Damned Saints MC.
I see the moment she understands what it means now.
Not just danger.
Protection.
Family.
I hold out my hand.
She looks at it, then at me.
“We’ll get your clothes,” I say. “Then I’m taking you to work.”
“And you’ll keep out of the way?”
“As much as I can.”
“Ace.”
“Sweetheart.”
She sighs, but her hand slides into mine.
Chapter 8
Reina
Ace’sbikefeelsdifferentin daylight.
Last night, I held on because I had nothing else.
This morning, I hold on because I want to.
My arms are wrapped around his waist, my cheek close to the back of his cut. His gray sweatpants are rolled at my waist, his shirt tucked under my jacket, and the warmth of him sits solid beneath my palms.
Steady.
Real.
Mine.
The thought slips in before I can stop it.
My face heats, and I press closer against his back.