Todos los capítulos de Her Biker Bodyguard: Capítulo 121 - Capítulo 130

VincentThe moment that Chevelle rumbles into the lot, my breath catches. Only one person would have the balls to drive James's prized possession, and there she is - his little girl, all grown up. The sunlight catches her dark hair as she steps out, and for a moment, I'm transported back twenty years to when she used to run around the clubhouse with pigtails and scraped knees.Except she's not that little girl anymore. The woman climbing out of that car moves with a quiet confidence that makes my mouth go dry. That black dress hugs curves that definitely weren't there last time I saw her, and the leather jacket... damn."Jesus Christ, James," I mutter under my breath, running a hand through my hair. "You'd have my head on a pike for even looking at her like this."I watch as those two idiot prospects start giving her grief, my jaw clenching. The disrespect makes my blood boil - not just because she's James's daughter, but because no woman should be treated that way at her father's fun

MilesThe smoke curls from my cigarette, dancing away in the Texas heat. My hands shake slightly as I take another drag, trying to steady the storm of emotions threatening to spill over. James would've given me shit for hiding out here, probably would've dragged my ass inside with that bear-like grip of his.The heavy metal door creaks behind me. I don't turn right away, not wanting anyone to see the redness in my eyes. But curiosity wins out, and I glance over my shoulder.She steps out into the sunlight clutching his urn, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. James's stories didn't do her justice. His daughter carries herself with a quiet grace that seems at odds with the rock chick exterior – all black leather and combat boots. But those eyes – damn, they're his eyes exactly. The same shade of hazel that could see right through your bullshit.I stub out my cigarette, watching as she hugs herself, looking lost in thought. The leather of her jacket catches the sun, and I notice the

ConnellThe wrench slips from my grease-covered fingers, clattering against the concrete. "Son of a-" I bite back the curse, wiping sweat from my forehead with my forearm. This carburetor's being a real pain in my ass today.The distant rumble of a V8 engine cuts through the usual chorus of Harleys. My heart skips - there's only one muscle car I know that comes around here these days. Sure enough, that midnight black Chevelle pulls into the lot, and I have to remind myself to breathe.Dolores steps out, and damn if she isn't a vision in that worn Ramones t-shirt and jeans that hug every curve. Her combat boots kick up dust as she walks over, black ray bans covering her eyes, twirling her keys around one finger."Having fun there?" She nods at the tools scattered around my feet."Oh yeah, time of my life." I wipe my hands on a rag. "How you holding up?""I'm okay, actually. Just finished up with the lawyer." She leans against my bike, careful to avoid the grease spots. "Got something t

DoloresI stand in front of the bathroom mirror, fussing with my hair for the third time. "What are you doing, Dolores?" My reflection offers no answers, just shows me fidgeting with my Metallica shirt, making sure it hits just right above my hips.The lasagna in the oven fills the house with garlic and herbs. Way too much food for one person, but I kept adding ingredients like some kind of cooking possessed person. My stomach flips when I think about Vincent coming over."It's just a business transaction," I mutter, but even I don't believe myself. The way he dismissed that woman earlier... I can't get it out of my head. The look on her face when she saw me, like I'd personally offended her by existing.I check my phone. Twenty minutes until he's supposed to show up. The house is spotless, which is ridiculous because he's here to pick up a motorcycle, not inspect my dusting skills."Dad would be rolling his eyes right now." I laugh, touching the framed photo of him on the hallway wal

VincentThe rumble of our bikes cuts through the evening air as we pull into the gravel lot of The Rusty Nail, one of the local bars on our payroll. Some of our eyes out on the streets informed us that a couple cronies from Dos Banditos, our rival gang, has been snooping around our bar, trying to start shit. My boots crunch on loose stones as I dismount, scanning the weathered building. Music and shouting spill from the open windows."Three bikes out back match the description," Miles says, adjusting his kutte. "Green and black paint jobs.""Well boys, shall we go introduce ourselves?" Connell cracks his knuckles, that wild grin spreading across his face.I take point as we enter, the smell of stale beer and cigarettes hitting me like a wall. Through the haze, I spot our targets immediately - three men in leather jackets embellished with green snakes, crowding around the pool table, getting handsy with Misty, one of the regular waitresses. Fucking Dos Bandito's. The scum of the damn e