The Stranger Lingers

Lucy

The bike roared beneath me, a beast alive with fire and steel, and I clung to it like my life depended on it. Maybe it did. My arms tightened around Blake’s jacket, the leather rough against my cheek. The cold night air cut through me, but the heat of his body under that jacket was steady, grounding.

Fear coiled in my stomach, hot and sharp. Every part of me screamed I shouldn’t be here—that I didn’t know this man, didn’t belong pressed up against his back, didn’t belong in his world. And yet, when he’d looked at me with those dark, unreadable eyes and said, You coming? I had moved. My feet had betrayed me.

The wind whipped through my hair as we tore down the road, past streetlights and sleeping houses. Everything blurred—lights, shadows, my thoughts. The faster we went, the louder the doubts in my head became, but they couldn’t keep up with the rush. Somewhere inside the fear was a sliver of release, a whisper of freedom. It scared me as much as the ride itself.

We finally slowed, the engine’s growl easing as Blake pulled into a gravel lot. A squat building sat in the glow of a flickering neon beer sign. Music thudded faintly through its walls, low and heavy, carrying laughter that wasn’t soft but sharp.

I swallowed hard. “Where are we?”

“Clubhouse,” Blake said, killing the engine.

The word dropped like a stone in my chest. I’d heard the stories—about biker clubs, about outlaws who lived outside rules, about the kind of men you didn’t cross. My first instinct was to tell him to take me back. But I didn’t. My voice stayed stuck in my throat.

Blake swung a leg over the bike and stood, movements smooth, confident. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t second-guess. He walked like he belonged everywhere he went.

He looked back at me, eyes catching the light of the sign. “You coming?”

The same question as before, but heavier now.

I hesitated, fear clawing its way through me. Walking into that building felt like stepping into a den of wolves. But walking back into the night, alone, felt worse.

So I got off the bike.

The gravel crunched under my boots as I followed him. The closer we came, the louder the music and voices grew, pressing against my ears. Blake pushed the door open, and the smell hit first—beer, smoke, leather, sweat.

The room inside was alive, buzzing with energy that bordered on chaos. Men in leather vests leaned against the bar, tattoos crawling up their arms. Laughter spilled loud and raw. Women draped themselves over laps, swaying to music that rattled the floor.

Eyes turned when Blake stepped inside. Conversations faltered. A hush rippled through the room like a shift in the air. Then the voices picked up again, but I could feel the weight of their stares. My skin burned under them.

Blake didn’t falter. He walked straight through, cutting the crowd like a knife through water. People moved aside without being told, like they knew better than to stand in his way.

I stuck close behind him, every muscle tight, wishing I could disappear into the shadow he cast.

At the bar, Blake nodded once at the man pouring drinks. “Beer.” Then his gaze slid to me. “And for you?”

My throat was dry. “Just water.”

A couple of men nearby snickered, one muttering something I couldn’t catch. Their laughter slithered under my skin. I braced for what would follow—the mocking, the cornering, the way things always spiraled with men like that.

But Blake’s head turned, slow, deliberate. His eyes locked on them, cold and sharp. The laughter cut off like someone had sliced the sound away.

The bartender slid a bottle of beer to Blake, a glass of water to me. My hands trembled as I picked it up, holding on too tight.

Blake leaned against the bar, casual in posture but not in presence. He was alert, always scanning, always aware. Watching him made me wonder if this was who he really was—a man who belonged in chaos but stayed rooted inside it.

“Why bring me here?” I asked finally, my voice low.

His eyes flicked toward me, steady and unreadable. “Better than leaving you on the road.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Maybe not.” He took a slow drink from his bottle, his throat working.

Silence stretched between us. I hated how curious I was about him, how my mind filled with questions I had no right to ask. Everything about him warned me to keep my guard up. But for the first time in years, curiosity outweighed dread. He was dangerous, yes—but not in the way I’d known danger before. His danger wasn’t cruel.

A shadow fell across the bar. Another man approached, taller, broader, his beard thick and his smile sharp as a blade. His vest bore the same patch as Blake’s, though I didn’t dare look too close at what it meant.

“Well, well,” the man drawled, eyes sliding over me in a way that made my stomach clench. “Didn’t know you were bringing strays, Blake.”

The word stray hit like a slap. Heat rushed to my cheeks, shame pricking beneath my skin.

Blake set his beer down with deliberate care, his jaw tightening. “Back off, Riker.”

“Just saying,” Riker said, smirk widening. His gaze didn’t leave me.

In one motion, Blake straightened. He moved between us, his body a wall, his presence heavier than steel. “I said back off.”

The words weren’t loud. They didn’t have to be. The weight in them silenced the air around us. Conversations faltered again, heads turning our way.

Riker’s smirk slipped. He held up his hands in mocking surrender, but his eyes glinted mean as he stepped back. “Easy, brother.” He laughed, low and sharp, then turned and disappeared into the crowd.

I realized then my hands were shaking so badly I nearly spilled the water.

Blake turned back, his gaze fixed on me. “You all right?”

I forced a nod, though the lie must’ve been plain on my face.

His eyes softened—barely, but enough to notice. “You don’t gotta be scared. Not with me.”

The words twisted inside me, pulling at things I didn’t want pulled. Because I was scared. Of him. Of this place. Of myself. But underneath it all was something else. Something I hadn’t felt in years.

I lifted the glass to my lips, focusing on the cool water as if it could calm the storm inside me.

Blake stayed close, quiet, steady as the chaos of the clubhouse churned around us.

Maybe he was dangerous. Maybe I was stupid for being here.

But sitting beside him, for reasons I couldn’t explain, I felt something that terrified me even more than fear.

Safe.