~Editor's Pick~
Harper Quinn saves lives. Steel ends threats.
As a paramedic, Harper is used to blood, danger, and men making terrible choices. But when a Sons of Sin MC shootout puts her in the path of Marcus “Steel” Holt, she becomes more than a witness. She becomes a target.
Steel is the club’s brutal Sergeant-at-Arms, a scarred, tattooed wall of violence who should terrify her, and he does… But he also protects her, listens when she says no, and makes her want things she knows she shouldn’t.
When a rival MC marks Harper as leverage, Steel becomes her shadow. The closer danger gets, the hotter they burn.
She saves lives. He takes them. And anyone who touches Steel’s medic will bleed.
“You’re not coming in?” The question slips out before she can catch it.
I see the second she realizes what she asked. Her face changes. Not embarrassed exactly, more a wariness. Like her own mouth has betrayed her, and now she has to stand behind the words anyway.
My blood heats. This is dangerous, and the wrong time. Actually, it’s the worst possible fucking time.
“I shouldn’t,” I say.
Her fingers tighten on the doorknob. “That’s not what I asked.”
“No,” I admit.
She looks tired, still angry, still scared, and still the sharpest thing in the room.
And I want.
Not a simple want. Not the kind that can be handled in a dark corner with a willing woman and no names. This is worse. I want to step inside and close the door. I want to sit with her until her breathing evens out. I want to stand between her and nightmares. I want to put my hands on her and teach her body that mine doesn’t have to mean danger.
I want things I have no business wanting.
“I can’t be what you need tonight,” I say.
Her expression shifts. “What do you think I need?”
“Safe.”
“That’s a place, Steel. Not a person.”
I stare at her. She steps closer, still in the doorway. “And for the record, you’re terrible at safe.”
“I know.”
“You’re violent.” I nod, and she continues. “And bossy.”
“I am.”
“Emotionally constipated.”
I grunt. “Probably.”
“And you terrify me.”
That one I expected, but it doesn’t mean it doesn’t cut.
I nod once. “Good.”
“No.” Her voice sharpens. “Not good. Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Act like fear is the only thing you understand.”
But it is, or it was before her.
Harper exhales, rubbing both hands over her face. “I am too tired for this conversation.”
“Then get some sleep.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
The confession is small, quiet, and nothing like her usual bite. And it guts me.
I step back from the door. “I’ll be right here.”
Her eyes search mine. “You really mean that?”
“Yes.”
“All night?”
“Yes.”
“What if Savage calls?”
“He can walk here.”
