I could barely believe this was happening. He wasn’t far from my hiding spot, and for once, I was glad I’d forgotten to turn my porch light on. With the bright moon, I could see him well enough. He was big and heavyset with a bushy black beard. His meaty fist pounded my door like he was here to arrest me.
Despite my fear, I was getting pissed.
Who is this idiot? He better not break my door. If I weren't hiding in the bushes in my underwear, I’d give this belligerent asshole a piece of my mind.
Out of nowhere, the roar of a third motorcycle filled the air. It came sweeping around the corner and halted right next to the guy on the waiting bike. Sweat gathered in my armpits as I watched the two men talking, though I couldn’t hear what they were saying over the engine noise and the incessant pounding.
The new guy turned his bike off. He removed his helmet, revealing a riot of long blond hair gathered in a low ponytail.
Meanwhile, Blackbeard had started ringing the doorbell as he pounded with his fist. Oddly, it sounded like music.
“Dean,” the guy with the ponytail called out as he strode over. He was tall with long legs. “You crazy motherfucker, what are you doing?” He had a long beard too—blond, just like his hair—that went down to about mid-chest.
What is this? A beauty pageant for bearded bikers? Is there a swimsuit competition next?
The pounding and doorbell ringing stopped. “Josh? It’s about damn time. I was starting to think I was lost.”
“We should consider every day lost on which we have not danced at least once.”
Dean snorted. “Well, I’ll be happy to dance. Dance my ass off, even. But where is everybody?”
Josh chuckled. It was a sensual sound. Goose bumps rose on my skin. Low and masculine, that chuckle was doing something funny to me. My nipples hardened, and a pleasurable tingle started between my thighs. My God. I swallowed in horror. For some crazy reason, I was getting turned on.
I must be dreaming. It’s the only explanation. And did that blond guy just quote Nietzsche?
I seriously considered the possibility that I was asleep. This was too surreal. I couldn’t really be out here hiding in my underwear in the middle of the night watching a couple of bikers discuss Nietzsche on my front porch.
My eyes focused on the blond one again, Josh. He had broad shoulders and wore dark jeans, along with a faded motorcycle jacket. His hair hung all the way down his back. But this time I noticed something I hadn’t before.
He was hot. Like super hot. But in a freaky outlaw sort of way.
“Dude, this isn’t my house,” Josh said, still chuckling.
“What?” Dean seemed startled. “No way. Are you kidding me?”
“I’m not kidding.”
“Who the hell lives here?”
“I have no idea.”
“Well, damn.” He stroked his dark beard in contemplation. “Whoever they are, I guess they’re not home.”
“No shit.” Josh laughed. “After all that pounding, you’re lucky you’re not staring down the barrel of a shotgun.”
Dean glanced back at the house. “Guess we better get out of here before they decide to come home.”
Both men turned to leave.
As it so happened, I did own a shotgun. Unfortunately, it was inside my hall closet where I couldn’t get to it right then.
They walked past my hiding spot headed toward their motorcycles, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief.
As soon as they were gone, I planned to go inside my house, double-check all the locks, and sleep with that shotgun right next to me.
I gasped as something bit my leg. The sharp sting of a bug or spider.
My body shifted involuntarily, and I smacked my thigh, moving out from the shadow of the tree.
Dean didn’t seem to notice anything, but Josh turned his head.
Oh shit.
He stopped walking.
I jumped back, but I could tell I wasn’t fast enough, and that I’d made too much noise.
His eyes found me in the dark. I saw them widen with surprise, saw the way they flashed down to my body, to how I stood there in nothing but my skimpy panties, camisole, and black boots.
I couldn’t believe I’d been discovered. Adrenaline poured into my veins like gasoline as I tried to figure out what to do.
Meanwhile, this hulking biker continued to stare at me.
The front door was locked, and the only way into the house was through the sliding glass door I’d left open in back.
Except there was a big problem.
In order to reach that door, I’d have to get past these two.
Chapter Two
~Leah~
Should I make a run for it?
I was panicking so hard my chest ached.
I mapped the shortest route to the back door in my mind. The two bikers were about fifteen feet away. The third one, still on his bike, appeared to be studying his phone. If I could somehow get past them, I might have a chance. If only I wasn’t wearing these tall rubber boots.
Dean didn’t seem to notice anything amiss and was talking to Josh about some party.
But Josh was still watching me.
His eyes were blue. Even at night, I could see their sharp color as we assessed each other.
I decided if he took one step closer, I’d take my boots off and throw them at him.
And then I’d run like hell.
Maybe they’d catch me. Maybe they wouldn’t. But I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I thought about my brother Lars, who was a deputy sheriff in town. He was the one who taught me how to use that shotgun. The one I wished I had in my hands right now. If anything happened to me, at least he’d make sure these assholes never saw the light of day again.
“Josh, what are you looking at?” the guy with the black beard asked. He began to turn in my direction.
I tensed, ready for a fight, lifting my right foot inside my boot so I could slip it off.
Josh laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder and steered him toward the motorcycles. “It’s nothing.”
And then he looked back at me with a grin and winked.
My mouth dropped open.
Light-headed and breathless, I watched as the two men strode toward their bikes. I remained rooted to the spot, unable to take my eyes off them.
Moments later, in a roar of smoke and dust, all three were gone. Vanished into the night.
Almost like they were never there at all.
“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming?” Lars asked me the next morning as he stood near his silver pickup truck parked in front of my house. I’d just told him what happened.
“Of course I’m sure. Don’t you think I know whether I’m awake or asleep?”
“Because it sounds like a dream to me.” He rested his arm on the truck’s rear gate. His short black hair shone under the hot sun as he reached down to shift some of the fencing supplies. “I mean, come on. A group of bikers came to your house in the middle of the night quoting Nietzsche?”
“Only one of them did that.”
“And what were you doing this whole time?”
“Hiding in the arborvitae.” I left out the part about being in my underwear.
“Why were you outside that late to begin with?”
“Checking on my girls, and then I was talking to the moon.”