Free Striker: No Prisoners MC Book 1 by Lilly Atlas Page A

bets are off.”
    “Hey, prospect, let’s get a couple of Bourbons over here.” Jester rapped a meaty fist against the bar and took a seat next to Lila.
    Striker slid onto the barstool on the opposite side of Lila. “Make it three.”
    She twisted on her seat to get a better look at Striker. God, he was hot. He wore a plain, dark gray T-shirt that stretched across his wide chest and muscular arms. Slightly dirty from working on motorcycles in the garage, it only enhanced his manly appeal. She hoped the prospect would bring the drinks soon so she had something to occupy her hands. Otherwise she was likely to reach out and stroke them over Striker’s sinewy body.
    “You all right, Lila?” Striker asked.
    Lila blew out a breath. Her hands still trembled, but at least she could breathe and speak now. “I think so. God, I’ve never been that scared. For a few minutes I thought he’d catch me.” Resigned to the fact that lightning didn’t strike twice in one place, she decided to be forthright with them. “I received a disturbing text message last weekend, after I got home Sunday night from…you know.”
    Striker’s attention was fully focused on her. “It’s fine, babe. You’re okay to speak freely in here.”
    “Right. Well then, after I helped with Kenny Sunday night, immediately after, before I even got in my house, I received a text. I dismissed it as a harmless prank, but after today I’m not so sure.”
    “What’d it say?” His voice had dropped to a menacingly low tone.
    “It said, ‘Really, doctor? Spending your free time with the No Prisoners?’” She didn’t bother to check her phone for accuracy. The veiled threat was burned into her brain.
    “Shit, Stitch! You should have said something right away.” Jester frowned at her from the barstool on her other side.
    Lila swung her gaze in Jester’s direction. “I figured it was just someone being an ass.”
    She caught Jester and Striker exchanging a look. “What? What are you thinking?”
    “You should have told me, Lila. We could have checked it out.” Striker shook his head. His lips pressed into a thin line.
    “I didn’t realize the MC did much in the way of personal security work,” she shot back. She took a sip of her bourbon. They were right, but the fact that they scolded her made her feel embarrassed and had frustration tightening her stomach.
    Jester chuckled. “That we don’t, Doc. We do, however, take care of our own, and we owe you one. Not to mention this threat seems to be a direct result of you helping us out.”
    “Jester, can you go brief Shiv on all this shit?”
    “Who?” She looked between the men.
    “He’s the club’s president,” Striker told her.
    Once he said that, the name rang a bell. If rumors were to be believed, his nickname came about after he survived a prison stabbing meant to end his life.
    Before Jester could respond, Lila’s phone chimed. Striker’s hands brushed the bare skin of her bicep as he slipped the phone out of the band on her arm, and handed it to her. The now familiar tremor of arousal that began under his fingertip traveled straight to her core. She peered down at the screen, and didn’t bother to disguise the gasp of surprise that escaped. “Shit.” Her stomach sank and her blood chilled in her veins.
    Striker plucked the phone from her unsteady fingers, and frowned at the screen. She watched his face harden as he read the text. Scared, doctor? I see you ran right to the No Prisoners, literally. He tossed the phone to Jester who read it, abruptly turned, and strode with purpose toward a set of double doors at the back of the room.
    “Listen, Lila, I shouldn’t say anything to you, but I know you can keep your mouth shut, and you appear to be ass-deep in this, so I’m gonna give it to you straight. There’s a high chance this is the Grimm Brothers.”
    His admission worsened her distress. “The MC from last week in the ER?”
    He nodded, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.