Free Bolt (Storm Runner's MC 1) by Lauren Devane Page B

closed her eyes. He drove fast—she felt the city fly past her at breakneck speed. She didn’t want to see the lights he must have run or the dangerous curves he took so that the bike dipped low on the road. She moved with him, in line with his body, but kept her eyes closed.
    When he’d killed the man holding her, arterial blood had sprayed across her chest and she could feel the front of her uniform sticking to her, a disgusting heaviness that reminded her of the hell he’d saved her from. She didn’t complain, didn’t ask for anything or speak a word for twenty minutes, just let him drive until he slowed and she felt secure enough to pry open her eyes.
    They were on the highway, outside the boundaries of Detroit. She pressed closer to the man in front of her and whispered her thanks in his ear, then just rested her head on his shoulder while he navigated the highway.
     
    When they got to his apartment building, he took her hands and chafed them between his own, commenting that she might be in shock. He turned on the shower and left her alone with black, fluffy towels and a new bar of soap that smelled like spices, like him. She peeled off her clothes and soaked in the water, lathered soap on her skin, turned up the heat until she could barely see for the fog in front of her. She wanted to wash away all the blood. The whole night.
    She hadn’t been at Easy Bake for long, but Anna considered those people her friends and now they were just—gone.
    When she came out wrapped in a towel, he offered her a t-shirt and a robe.
    “I don’t think anything else I have will fit you,” he explained when she emerged with wet hair and a robe with sleeves she’d had to roll back four times.
    “I don’t think you expected company,” she said, and then broke into sobs, collapsing on his couch and burying her face in her hands. She felt him settle next to her, put an arm around her and pull her against his muscular chest. “I’m Anna,” she said when she could finally breathe again.
    “I’m Jack.”
    “Thank you for saving my life, Jack.”
    “You’re welcome.”
     
    The next morning, she woke up in his bed alone. The sheets were crumpled around her, but the side where he could have slept was untouched. She smelled food and followed the scent into the living room.
    “I picked up some coffee, donuts and fruit,” he said, gesturing to the spread on the table. “I thought you might want something to eat. There’s a bag with clothes in the bathroom that I think might fit you.”
    “Thank you.” Anna poured coffee for both of them and then took a piece of pineapple and nibbled at it. “We should go to the police. I should have done so last night, but I wasn’t thinking straight.”
    “I called them before I came in, but you know how the police are here.”
    “I know.”
    “I can’t let you go yet.” Anna pulled back at those words, studied Jack. His face was rough—not quite handsome, but rugged and attractive, with a strong jaw and sensual lips. His dark hair was cropped short, and long lashes framed his melting chocolate eyes. He didn’t look like a psychopath, but he’d killed a man last night—to save her, she reminded herself—and he couldn’t keep her here against her will.
    “Why?”
    “You’re obviously free to go if you choose. But I know the man who leads the gang that attacked your place of employment last night. If you go to the cops, he’ll have you at his mercy inside a day.”
    “So what am I supposed to do? I can’t leave Michigan without my car, and the transmission is dead.”
    “Transmission?” Jack sighed, pulled out his phone. “I know someone who might be able to help you with that. I’ll call him now, and then we’ll go get your car. As to what you should do, you should get as far away from here as you can and let us deal with Anthony and his men.”
    “Us?”
    “Me and my brothers. I’m a member of the Storm Runners.”
    Her eyes widened with shock. She’d heard of