The Man Behind the Bike

Kade’s Pov

The hardest part of any job is staying focused when your mind is screaming at you to do something completely stupid.

Standing in the middle of Milo Hayes’s small, bright living room, I stared at the back of his head and cursed myself for being an idiot. I should have known better. 

When Adrian called the club asking for protection, I volunteered because I wanted to make sure the job was done right. I did not expect the target to be the same sweet-eyed graphic designer who had completely wrecked my common sense in a smoky bar the night before.

The second I walked through that front door and saw him standing there in his loose sweatpants and oversized t-shirt, my heart had hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.

 I recognized every single thing about him: the way his dark curls fell messily over his forehead, the way his shoulders tensed when he got mad, and the exact shade of brown in his eyes that made me want to forget every rule I lived by.

But I couldn't. As the vice president of the Devil Riders, I had a job to do. Keeping Milo safe meant keeping a wall between us. The enemies hunting our club and sniffing around his family were dangerous, ruthless people.

 If they figured out I had a soft spot for the designer, they would use him to tear me apart. So, I kept my face blank, acted like a cold stranger, and pretended our unforgettable night together never happened.

"Stop pacing," Milo snapped, turning around to glare at me with his hands jammed fiercely onto his hips.

 "You're walking back and forth across my rug like a caged animal, and it's driving me crazy."

I stopped my pacing and looked at him. He was trying so hard to look tough, but his chest was rising and falling fast, and his cheeks were flushed pink. He was furious with me, and honestly, I couldn't blame him.

"It's my job to pace, Milo," I said, my voice staying flat and low on purpose. "My job is to watch every inch of this house so nobody breaks in and hurts you."

"Well, you don't have to look like you want to murder me while you do it," he shot back, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. The movement pulled his soft shirt snug against his skin, outlining the shape of his chest in a way that made my throat go completely dry.

I swallowed hard, looking away from him to stare out the window. 

“Control yourself, Kade,” I told myself. “He's your client.

For the next few hours, the tension in the apartment was thick enough to cut with a knife. Milo spent his time glaring at me from across the room while pretending to work on his computer, but I could tell he wasn't designing anything. 

Every few minutes, he would peek over the top of his screen to see if I was looking at him.

And I was. I couldn't help it.

He was walking around his kitchen to make tea, wearing a thin, grey t-shirt that had ridden up slightly every time he reached for a mug. He was testing me on purpose.

 I knew he was. He wanted to see if I would crack, if I would drop the tough bodyguard act and admit that I remembered every single second of how soft his skin felt under my hands.

"Do you want a cup?" Milo asked suddenly, breaking the heavy silence. His tone was a little softer now, laced with a strange kind of curiosity. "Or do tough biker vice presidents only drink whiskey and gunpowder?"

I let out a slow breath and walked into the kitchen, stopping just a few inches away from him. He didn't step back. He stood his ground, tilting his head up to look right into my eyes. 

Up close, I could smell the sweet scent of soap and coffee on him. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to reach out and pull him against me.

"I drink coffee," I murmured, my gaze dropping to his lips before I forced myself to look back into his eyes. "And I don't need distractions, Milo."

"I'm not a distraction," he whispered, his voice trembling just a little bit. "I'm a person. A person you pretended to care about last night, and now you're acting like a ghost."

"Last night was a mistake," I repeated the lie, hating the words the moment they left my mouth because they weren't true. It was the best night I'd had in years, and we both knew it.

Milo opened his mouth to say something else, but before the words could come out, my entire body went rigid.

A sudden flash of movement outside the window caught the corner of my eye.

Through the thin gap between the blinds, down on the quiet street across from the apartment building, a dark sedan had slowed down to a crawl.

A man sitting in the passenger seat was leaning forward, holding a pair of binoculars directly pointed at Milo’s second-floor window.

My protective instincts exploded into life.

"Get down!" I shouted.

Before Milo could even process what was happening, I lunged forward, grabbing him by the waist and tackling him hard to the floor. We crashed against the kitchen cabinets and tumbled onto the hardwood, my heavy frame covering his body completely to shield him from the glass.

"What are you—let go of me!" Milo gasped, struggling underneath me, his hands pushing against my chest.

"Shut up and stay down," I growled, pressing my lips close to his ear as I kept my eyes locked on the window across the street.

The dark sedan outside hit the gas, its tires screeching loudly against the asphalt as it sped away into the afternoon traffic, vanishing around the corner.

Slowly, I lifted my head, my heart hammering like a drum against my ribs. I looked down. Milo was frozen beneath me, his chest heaving, his wide brown eyes staring up into mine with a mix of shock, fear, and a sudden, burning rush of electricity. 

Our bodies were pressed tightly together from head to toe, every inch of us touching.

"Kade..." Milo whispered, his breath warm against my chin.

"They know where you are," I said, my voice dropping to a harsh, quiet whisper as the terrifying reality washed over me.