Page 24 of What Burns Between

I gave Tyke my list like he asked, just after lunch, not that there was much on it. If I’d known I’d be on house arrest, I’m relatively sure I could have organized to bring all my shit in the one trip this morning. Then again, if they’d said I’d be stuck here on lockdown once I walked through the gates, I honestly don’t know if I would have come.

I moved here, to Red River, to take charge of my life. To be able to choose where I go and when. This feels like doing the exact opposite, and yet, what else could I have done?Fuck Connor.

I sigh and flip to the next page in the magazine. The pictures on the faded glossy spread tell of freedom and rebellion, taunting me with what I no longer have. They promise a life of new beginnings if the reader simply sets down five and a half thousand on the latest two-wheeled machine. Although, inflation being what it is, I imagine the bikes cost a lot more now than when this was printed. I chuckle under my breath at the teased, big hair on a model, her teeny-tiny denim cut-offs halfway up her ass as she perches over the seat of a bike.

“Learnin’ much?”

I slam the pages closed, so engrossed in the alternate world I didn’t hear him approach. “I guess.”

Digger stands in the open doorway, a black canvas duffle in his right hand. He doesn’t say anything more; he simply runs his eye over me, head to toe, and then steps into the room after finding himself seemingly satisfied with what he found.

What is it about me that appeals to him? What would drive such a desirable man to take me on as a charity case?

I’m not in his league. I’m not even in the same stratosphere.

Nobody will believe the lie.

“Is that my stuff?” I slip my legs out and scooch to the side of the bed, intent on taking the bag from him. “I didn’t realize Tyke would send someone to get it today.”

“May as well get it done.” He steps right past me and sets the bag down on the patchy armchair in the corner. The zipper catches, and he goes about removing the items for me.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Want the bag back.” He lays my clothes in a neat stack, big hands smoothing the fabric. A woman’s face stares at me from the back of his right palm, a crooked crown across her brow.

“Of course.” I tuck my redundant hands in the back pockets of my jeans and stand awkwardly, watching him as he lays out the meager offerings of my life. “Guess I should tell my landlord I won’t be there for a while.”

“Already done it.”

Oh.I mightn’t have the closest relationship with Brawny, but it feels rude not to be the one to tell him. “What did he say?”

“Not a lot.”

Much like the man before me, it seems. I cross over to the set of drawers and run my finger through the fine coating of dust on top. “Look, if you don’t want to do this, I understand.”

Digger stills, resuming his careful unpacking while I continue to stare, waiting for an answer.

I expel a heavy breath out my nose. Why is this so hard? I’ve been jammed up against this man’s body on the back of his bike—twice. And yet, now that Tyke voices the ruse that Digger and I are a ‘thing,’ merely being in the same room as the man makes it hard to breathe.

I chew my bottom lip and glance out toward the hall.No hope of rescue from Maddie.My attention snags on the broad lines of Digger’s back as he bends to plug my phone charger in beside the nightstand. The man’s ass is criminal.Physical attraction should be the last thing on my brain, given recent events, and yet, here I am—red-blooded and hopeless.

“Was he there? Connor?” I hug my arms to myself, fingers biting into my triceps.

“Not this time.” A smile creeps across Digger’s lips, just visible from my vantage point. “I’d say he’s nursing quite a headache.”

“Will what you did, you know, call for retaliation or anything?” I don’t know a lot about how clubs like this operate, but it was clear from the little glimpses I got from Connor that criminal organizations don’t take too kindly to being insulted in any way, shape, or form.

He rolls the canvas bag. “Maybe. But we’ll deal with it when the time arises.” Digger straightens, setting those wicked eyes on me. “Don’t worry yourself over it.”

I’m finally close enough in the right light to see what it is that makes his stare so damn intense. The palest green center to his iris, peppered with shades of forest undergrowth on the outer ring. It makes his eyes look alight, magical, as though they could see straight into your soul.

It’s disconcerting when you don’t know the guy all that well.

“You settlin’ in okay?” He pops his hip against the drawers, folding his strong arms.

“I guess.” I shrug, dropping my hands to shove them back into the pockets of my jeans. “I mean, I don’t want to seem rude…”

“You ain’t.”