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Excerpt

Getting manhandled was not on his to-do list. Despite Wilder being a big guy, his touch was exceptionally gentle. His hand was huge and warm, and he wished it didn’t feel so good against the back of his thighs. He’d given up on both cursing Wilder and trying to wiggle free. It was no use. All he could do was hang over Wilder’s shoulder like a rag doll.

At least the view wasn’t entirely awful. Wilder’s ass looked great, and he had to remind himself that he couldn’t grab it. He wanted to, though, which was a problem.

He heard a door open and then a burst of wind ruffled his hair. He lifted his head enough to see the door shutting behind them and frowned. That wasn’t the door he’d entered the gym through. They had to be in a part of the parking lot he hadn’t seen before.

Just as he spotted a bunch of motorcycles parked in a neat row, Wilder stopped moving, and then he was being put back on his feet.

He leveled Wilder with a glare, though with how red his face probably was, it didn’t have the intended impact. Not if the wry smile on Wilder’s lips was any indication.

“You gonna do as you’re told?”

Wilder’s voice was… it should be illegal. It set his every nerve ending on fire.

“No.” It was a knee-jerk reaction more than an actual answer. Not that it was wrong. He most likely wouldn’t be doing whatever Wilder told him to. He’d done what he was told so much that he’d nearly lost sight of who he was.

The soft sound of Wilder’s laughter did not affect him. At all. It definitely didn’t make his heart race.

“Get on,” Wilder said with a nod of his head toward a shiny, black motorcycle with tall handlebars and two massive exhaust pipes on the side. He wasn’t surprised to see Harley-Davidson written on the tank. It was a beautiful beast he had no intentions of getting near.

“I’m not getting on that thing.”

Wilder’s brows lowered. “You prefer to stay for the gun show?”

“The what now?”

“Shit’s about to go down, and let’s be fucking clear about something: I would much prefer staying here with my brothers and sisters, but here I am getting you to safety.”

Emmett’s mouth dropped open. He couldn’t be serious. Could he?

Wilder raised a brow at him, then walked to the bike next to his own and pulled a helmet out of the leather saddlebag strapped to it.

“We’re going,” Wilder said, and shoved that helmet over Emmett’s head before he could protest, and if there truly was about to be a shootout, did he really want to decline Wilder’s offer of safety? Fuck no.

Wilder’s fingers brushed the underside of his jaw as he tied the chinstrap, the touch sending a spark of electricity through him. He grumbled under his breath, and from the twist of Wilder’s lips, the man heard him.

Wilder’s lips moved, but with the helmet on and his damned blood thrumming in his ears, he couldn’t hear a word. Lip reading was out of the question, too. No matter how much he stared at that mouth, he wouldn’t be able to comprehend the man’s words.

Wilder frowned, something flashing through those insanely gorgeous eyes of his. They were brown with flecks of emerald green. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen eyes like that before, and he knew, if he let himself, he could get utterly lost in them.

Wilder grabbed the helmet hanging from his bike’s handlebars and put it on before he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, his gaze on Emmett.

“Better?”

Wilder’s voice made him jump. He hadn’t realized there was a headset of some sort inside the helmet he wore. Well, that made things easier… or harder, he supposed. There was no ignoring the man now.

“I hear you,” he mumbled, gaze moving over Wilder in rapid bursts until he settled on staring at the man’s hands, which turned out to be a bad idea because they were as big as the rest of him, and his imagination instantly ran with it.

He swallowed hard, trying to dispel the vision of those hands on him. It was in no way an easy task when he could feel Wilder watching him. His cheeks were blazing, and he was thankful for the helmet that hid it from Wilder.

“Good.” Wilder turned and mounted his bike, hands grabbing the handlebars and making them look tiny. “You haven’t been on a bike before, have you?”

Emmett pressed his lips together and shook his head. He had. Once. It terrified him. Granted, he’d been a kid, but… he wasn’t exactly looking forward to this ride. Even if Wilder looked damned good in his faded jeans and leather vest, the T-shirt he wore under it showing off his thick biceps. The man was big. He was a hulking mass with a pretty face, and all he wanted was to get the hell away from him. Wilder was exactly the kind of trouble he didn’t need.

Wilder held a hand toward him, and he stepped forward, taking it cautiously. Wilder helped him find the footpeg, and then he swung his leg over the bike to settle into the small seat behind Wilder. It brought him right up against Wilder’s body, his thighs pressed against the man’s sides.

A startled sound escaped him when Wilder grabbed his hands and jerked him forward until his chest was pressed against Wilder’s back and his arms were around him.

A huff of laughter reminded him of the headset, and he bit his tongue to keep from cursing.

“Just hold on tight and follow my movements,” Wilder said, the amusement in his voice making Emmett drop his helmet against the man’s shoulder.

This was the worst day of his life.

He felt the vibrations of the bike coming to life beneath them and tried not to hold his breath as a burst of fear shot through him. The bike moved forward, and his arms tightened around Wilder, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“Don’t worry, Darlin’. I’ll keep you safe,” Wilder’s voice rumbled through his helmet.

Perhaps it should’ve made him relax, but that deep, husky voice did absolutely nothing to calm him down.

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Other Titles Within the Series

MILES

Salvation Kings MC: New Freedom Chapter - Prequel Novella

KAZ

Salvation Kings MC: New Freedom Chapter - Book One

About the Author

Ana Night is a writer of suspenseful gay romance. She’s an avid reader who has loved the written word since she discovered it. When she was a kid, she never went anywhere without a notepad. She was always writing, be it in the backseat of the car, between classes in school, or by the pool on vacations.

When she’s not writing, you can find her with her nose buried in a book, singing and dancing, or watching her favorite TV shows.

Ana lives in Denmark where she spends most of her time running from her ninja kitty—that one goes for the ankles—and getting lost in the woods with her horse.

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