Claimed By The Ruthless Biker

CHAPTER TWO

Ava's POV

No, he did not step out, I thought as I looked at the stranger with an open mouth.

He appeared.

It was as if the shadows had been holding him and finally decided to let him go.

He was huge. Taller than every man in the room. Broad in a way that made the narrow space behind the bar look too small for him. His black shirt stretched across his chest and arms covered in tattoos that disappeared beneath the sleeves and climbed up the side of his neck. I saw sharp lines, numbers, shapes, symbols I could not understand.

A scar cut through his left eyebrow and down toward his cheek.

But it was his eyes that stopped me.

They were grey. Cold. And fixed on the man blocking the door.

The whole bar seemed to hold its breath around him.

The bartender stopped wiping a glass. The pool cue lowered. The drunk man's hand dropped from the door.

"Cain," Rafe said, trying for a laugh and missing. "I was just being friendly."

Cain said nothing. He only looked at him and Rafe took one step away from me. Then another.

I could breathe again but not well. Not fully. Because now Cain's eyes moved from Rafe to me.

And somehow, that was worse.

He did not look at me like the others had.

He did not look curious.

He did not look amused.

He looked like he had been expecting me.

My goodness, I thought. Why was he looking at me like that?

My fingers tightened around the strap of my bag even as Cain came closer.

The men made room for him without being asked.

He stopped a few feet away, close enough for me to see the faint bruising along his knuckles and the black ink curling around his wrists. One tattoo near his thumb looked almost like a set of numbers. Coordinates, maybe. Or dates.

His voice, when it came, was rough.

"You lost?"

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

The bartender gave me a sympathetic look. "Honey, answer him."

I forced air into my lungs. "My car broke down."

"Where?"

"Outside town."

"How far?"

"I don't know. Two miles, maybe."

His eyes moved over me quickly. Not like Rafe's had. Cain's gaze was sharp, assessing. My thin sweater. My shaking hands. My small bag. My face. Everything.

He saw too much and I hated that.

"Phone?" he asked.

"Dead."

"Car?"

"Also dead."

A faint sound came from the back of the room. Someone was laughing under his breath.

Cain did not turn around. "You find something funny, Knox?"

The laughter stopped immediately.

I should have been relieved.

Instead, my fear grew teeth.

Who was this man that could silence a room without raising his voice?

Cain looked at my bag again. "You got somewhere to stay?"

"Yes," I lied.

The bartender snorted softly.

Cain's eyes didn't move from my face. "Where?"

I lifted my chin. "That's not your business."

Someone at the bar muttered, "Damn."

Rafe, now standing several feet away, let out a low whistle. "She's got a mouth."

Cain's head turned slightly. Just slightly. And Rafe shut up.

My heart stumbled just then.

Cain looked back at me. "Everything that walks into my bar bleeding fear becomes my business."

"I'm not bleeding."

"Didn't say you were."

Heat climbed my neck. "I just need to use a phone."

The bartender reached beneath the counter and lifted a landline receiver. An actual landline. Beige. Ancient. Like something from a museum.

"Local call or long distance?" she asked.

I stared at it.

Who was I supposed to call?

Not Damian. Definitely not him.

Not anyone from home. Damian knew everyone from home.

Not the police. What would I even say? That my fiance scares me and that was why I was running away. He hasn't even technically broken the law in a way I can prove because he is smart enough to hurt me where nobody can see?

My silence lasted too long and Cain noticed.

"No call then," he said briskly.

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't have to."

I hated him a little in that moment. Not because he was wrong but because he was right too fast.

Rafe relaxed against the wall, watching me again. "Maybe she needs a ride, Cain. I can take her wherever she wants."

"No," I said immediately.

The room went quieter in response. Rafe's grin returned even as Cain's eyes narrowed.

I stepped back and hit the door again. "I mean, no, thank you. I'll figure it out."

"In the dark?" Cain asked.

"Yes."

"With a dead car?"

"Yes."

"In a town you don't know?"

I clenched my teeth. "I said I'll figure it out."

Cain took one step closer. Immediately, I took one step back even though there was nowhere to go.

His jaw tightened and his voice lowered as he spoke, "I'm not him."

The words struck something in me so hard I almost dropped my bag.

I'm not him.

My lips parted. "What?"

But Cain did not repeat himself.

The bartender's eyes flicked between us while Rafe's smile faded.

I suddenly became aware of the room again. The men. The leather. The smoke. The wolf symbols. The exit blocked by my own fear and Cain's body.

I straightened as I spoke, "You don't know anything about me."

"No," Cain said. "But I know what running looks like."

I laughed once but it sounded broken. "Congratulations."

His face did not change and somehow, that made me angrier.

I could deal with cruelty. I understood cruelty. Cruelty gave me something to push against.

But this calm, steady watching? This man looking at me as if he could hear every crack inside my chest?

No. Absolutely not. I couldn't take it.

"I shouldn't have come in here," I said.

Cain's gaze flicked briefly toward the window. "Probably not."

"Great. Then we agree."

"But you did."

I reached for the door handle.

Rafe moved again, just one careless step in my direction and Cain's hand shot out. He didn't touch Rafe. He didn't need to. His palm pressed flat against Rafe's chest, stopping him like a wall.

"Sit down," Cain said to him.

Rafe's face reddened. "I wasn't doing nothing."

Cain finally looked at him fully.

"I said sit down."

Rafe held his stare for one second. Then two.

Then he backed away and dropped into a chair.

I stared at them even as Cain turned back to me. "You walk out that door, you won't make it twenty minutes before someone follows."

The room did not deny it. My stomach turned cold immediately.

"You're trying to scare me," I said, hoping I wouldn't start shaking.

"No." His eyes were steady. "I'm telling you the truth."

I glared at him. "I don't need your protection."

"Didn't ask what you needed."

My fingers curled around the handle. "You don't get to decide for me."

For the first time, something moved across his face. It was not anger. Pain, maybe. But it was gone too quickly to be sure.

"No," he said quietly. "I don't."

Then he stepped back.

The path to the door opened.

I should have left.

I wanted to leave.

But beyond the dirty front window, Greystone waited dark and empty. My car was dead. My phone was dead. Damian was somewhere behind me, pulling on every invisible string he had wrapped around my life.

And inside this bar, every dangerous man was now watching Cain to see what he would do with me.

The bartender placed the receiver down slowly.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" she asked.

I hesitated even as Cain was watching me.

I should have lied.

I had planned to lie.

I had practiced three different names on the road. Emma. Claire. Jane.

But fear makes fools of careful women.

"Ava," I said.

Cain went still in a manner barely enough for anyone else to notice. But I noticed.

I noticed how his hand, the one at his side, curled once into a fist.

The bartender's expression changed too.

Rafe looked from me to Cain. "Well, hell."

My blood chilled.

"What?" I asked.

Nobody answered.

I looked at Cain. "Why did he say that?"

Cain's face had gone unreadable.

"Last name," he said.

"No."

"Ava."

The way he said my name made my breath catch. I backed away from him.

"No," I whispered. "No, you don't get to do that."

His eyes sharpened. "Do what?"

"Say my name like you know me."

The bartender murmured, "Cain..."

He ignored her.

"Last name," he repeated.

I shook my head. "I'm leaving."

Cain moved then towards the window. He pushed the curtain aside with two fingers and looked out.

Every man in the room seemed to tense at once.

"What is it?" Grim asked from the corner.

I hadn't even noticed him before. He was bald, heavy and had tattooed hands folded on the table. His eyes were on Cain, not me.

Cain let the curtain fall.

"Black SUV," he said.

My heart stopped immediately.

No.

No, no, no.

The phone in my bag suddenly buzzed.

Everyone heard it.

Cain's eyes dropped to my bag with one move.

Slowly, with shaking fingers, I pulled the phone out.

The screen glowed with one message and from an unknown number:

You should not have gone into that bar, Ava.

The room tilted just then. I couldn't breathe.

Cain was in front of me before I realized he had moved. His voice dropped so low only I could hear it.

"Who is hunting you?"

I looked up at him, my hand clenched around the phone, my whole body cold.

Outside, headlights swept across the bar window.

And Cain asked the question that made my heart stop.

"Who are you running from?"