Page 59

The sun winked out again.

Ryan ducked his head and closed his eyes. “Sorry, man,” he sighed. “Shit’s going down, and Coop’s been up my ass. Wanted me to do a drive-by.”

Saint nodded and let the tension out of his muscles one by one. “Should’ve led with that.”

Saint couldn’t sneeze without Scott fucking Cooper wondering if it meant he was up to something. Taking them on as clients had been a mistake. But saying no to that man came with consequences he hadn’t been willing to pay. He leaned against the door frame, blocking it completely.

Ryan shook out his shoulders like a dog after a fight. Low stress tolerance. He let out another sigh and refocused on Saint.

“Looks like you’ve had a long week too,” he muttered.

Saint hadn’t. He just hadn’t gotten used to Riley being in his bed. He never wanted to get used to it, never wanted to take it for granted. He didn’t sleep much anyway.

Saint backed into the shop and took a seat on the steps up to the loft. He glanced to the side, eyes touching the blackened grip for a millisecond.

“It’s fine. Just… family stuff.”

Ryan slouched against the wall and avoided the hanging tools. “I get it. We fished Blaze out of the harbour this week, and now the whole place is crawling with family hanging around for the funeral. Turns out he was someone’s cousin.”

“Sorry to hear it,” Saint said. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.

Ryan shrugged. “Part of the life, right? He was a moron anyway. Spent too much time trying to roll people he shouldn’t. Didn’t follow orders.”

An avoidable death. Saint didn’t give a shit about the kid, but it was still a waste.

Movement flashed, and Ryan’s gaze jerked up.

“That sorta family, eh?” he muttered. His face twisted with a cocky grin. “Hey, beautiful. You new around here?”

Saint went still. He felt the vibrations through the stairs as Riley descended.

“Hey.” Saint got up, and she drifted by him, trailing a hand down his arm with a whispered greeting. She had eyes only for the machine out front. She gave Ryan a polite smile as she passed but largely ignored them both.

Saint couldn’t blame her. It was a nice bike.

Ryan turned to watch Riley admire the bike in silence. She wore Saint’s hoodie again, knees poking through ripped jeans. Ryan looked a bit longer than he should have.

“Is this an ‘88 Softail?” She turned to ask, touching the handlebars lightly. Her hair shimmered in the sun, highlighting the red sheen under the usual dark honey.

“Damn, and she knows bikes? Nice work,” Ryan murmured, eyes half-lidded.

Saint ground his molars together and forced himself to breathe.

“Sure is, gorgeous. You want a ride?”

The air stopped moving in Saint’s lungs. He knew damn well what offering rides to women signified to bikers. And it wasn’t fucking friendly.

Riley had her lip clamped between her teeth as her eyes were bright with mischief. She pressed her shoulders down and sauntered back to the shop.

Saint could feel a headache growing at the base of his skull.

“Not from you,” she said with a grin, cheeky enough to take the sting out of the rejection. It didn’t matter anyway, because Ryan didn’t hear her. He watched her face with something like awe in his pale eyes.

Saint kept his hands loose at his sides.

“I’m Riley. Nice to meet you.” She somehow manoeuvered herself in front of Saint and stuck her hand out to shake with the biker.

“Ryan Cooper.” He shook her hand, holding it a bit too long. “The pleasure is all mine.”