Chaos Bound (Sinner's Tribe Motorcycle Club #4)(33)

“Leave the f*cking cut. I’m done with the Sinners.” Holt holstered his gun and tugged on his shoes. “Whatever is missing, we’ll have to wing it.”

“The whole winging it thing is starting to get to me.” Naiya fastened her bra and slid the backpack over her shoulders. “Ever since meeting you I’ve been more impulsive than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Gimme the pack.” Holt held out his hand.

“You’re barely able to walk, much less run.” She tightened the shoulder straps. “You don’t need the added burden of the pack.”

Holt scowled. “Pack. Now. I’ll not have a woman carrying anything for me that I can carry myself.”

“Seriously?” Naiya clipped the chest strap above her breasts. “This isn’t the Stone Age. I go to the gym. I work out. What’s the point of lifting weights if I don’t use my muscles?”

“What muscles?” Holt stalked toward her, his hand outstretched. “You’re small. Soft.”

“Statistically speaking, men are generally stronger than women,” Naiya said. “However, right now, given your current condition, I suspect I have more stamina than you, and you’ll need all your energy just to keep up with me. As a result, it makes sense for me to keep the backpack and for you to get your ass in gear.”

“Christ. Gimme the damn pack!”

The cabin vibrated with the rumble of motorcycles, and Naiya’s heart drummed in her chest. She yanked open the back door and looked over her shoulder. “Come and get it.”

She took off down the path leading into the forest, Holt close on her heels, shouting directions as they pounded their way along the dirt trail. She heard the high-pitched rev of an engine and caught her breath.

“They’re coming down the trail on their bikes. We’ll never outrun them.”

Holt passed her at a run, reached back, and grabbed her hand. “I walked the trails when we got here. A couple of them are too narrow for their bikes. This way.”

Chest heaving, she ran behind him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. If this was Holt injured, she couldn’t imagine how fast he could go if he were well.

The rumble of bikes vibrated through the forest, silencing the birds. Holt veered off the main path to an overgrown trail, barely visible through the underbrush. After fifty feet, the trail angled down, and Naiya stumbled, dropped to her knees in the dirt.

“Up.” Holt yanked her arm, and pulled her up. Sweat soaked her back beneath her pack, dripping off her forehead as she stumbled behind him. Every breath burned in her lungs. Although she ran three or four mornings a week, she had never run like this—full on, flat out, every muscle in her body straining—it almost made a joke out of her morning jog. Part of her thrilled at being pushed to her limit, and yet this wasn’t recreation. She knew what was waiting for her back at the Black Jack clubhouse and she couldn’t go through it again.

She kept her head down and followed Holt’s feet, stepping where he stepped, jumping when he jumped. Despite his injuries, he kept up a good pace, although he was breathing as hard as she was.

Holt skidded to a stop when they reached the lake at the end of the trail. “Boat launch.” He pointed along the shore.

Naiya groaned, wavered on her feet. “I don’t think—”

Holt unclipped the strap across her chest and tugged the pack off her shoulders, heaving in his breaths. His hair was plastered to his face, his face red with exertion. “Go.”

“You can’t…”

He shoved her gently toward the dock. “Go, Naiya.”

“What about you?”

“I’ll hold them off.”

Damn stupid man. Clearly, he couldn’t go on, and he was planning to sacrifice himself after she’d gone to so much trouble to save him. She put an arm around his waist and braced herself to take his weight. “I’m not going without you.”

Holt looked down at her, and his lips quirked, amused. “What are you doing?”

“Helping you.”

“Even if it might cost you your freedom?”

Naiya shrugged. “The bikers I know would either have abandoned me or taken advantage of me in the same situation. But here you are.”

“Maybe I’m using you,” he said softly.

“I thought of that.” She took a step, urged him forward. “I make good bait if you want to lure Viper out of his den. But even if you are using me to get to him, I have a vested interest in the outcome, and so do you. But more than getting Viper off my back, I want you to have your revenge. That’s why I drugged you at the motel. You deserve justice, Holt, and even I can see that you won’t get that from the law.” She tugged on his shirt. “Now come on. We don’t have time for all this talking.”

He stared at her like she was some kind of exotic creature, wondrous and curious at the same time. Uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny, she jogged ahead, only to feel his hand clasp hers. He picked up the pace, tugging her forward, where only a few moments ago she thought she’d be supporting him.

“I’m not worth that kind of loyalty,” he said as they raced along the beach to the boat launch. “But you are safe with me.”

Warmth curled in her belly, spread out to her fingers. Maurice wasn’t the protective type. He explained away his reluctance to walk her home at night, or meet her at the bus stop in the dark, as a dislike for the antiquated conventions of chivalry. In fact, he claimed to be honoring her feminist beliefs by lying on the couch watching sports when she came to visit at night, overcoming his primitive urges to protect his woman and mark his territory. He was a modern man of modern times no longer ruled by biology. Of course it made logical sense, and yet a tiny, betraying part of her wished he would put an arm around her and beat back the shadows of the night.