Chapter 4
Ridge's hand wrapped around Aria's wrist like a steel cuff. "We're done here."
"Let go of me." She tried to pull away, but his grip was firm.
"Not happening."
He led her through the clubhouse toward a hallway lined with doors. His brothers watched with expressions ranging from amused to concerned. One of them—a skinny guy with face tattoos—wolf- whistled.
"Shut it, Spider," Ridge growled without looking back.
"Just saying, brother. Your taste's improved." Ridge stopped dead. The temperature in the room plummeted.
"You got something to say about my woman?"
The guy called Spider raised his hands. "Nah, man. Just admiring the view."
Ridge's free hand clenched into a fist. Aria could feel violence crackling in the air like electricity before a storm.
"Ridge." She put her other hand on his arm.
"Don't."
He looked down at her, conflict warring in those storm-blue eyes. Slowly, his fist unclenched.
"Next time you look at her like that," he told Spider, "you'll be eating through a straw."
Ridge's room was nothing like she'd expected. Clean. Organized. A king-sized bed dominated the space, but it was the bookshelf that surprised her. Actual books. Not just motorcycle magazines.
"You read?" The question slipped out before she could stop it.
"Shocking, right? Biker who can read." He released her wrist and moved to lock the door. "Sorry to disappoint you, princess."
"That's not what I meant."
"Isn't it?" He turned to face her, and she saw hurt flash across his features before the walls slammed back up. "Rich girl slumming it with the bad boy. Got more than you bargained for?"
"I'm not rich. I'm in debt up to my eyeballs from student loans."
"But you're better than us. Better than me."
The bitterness in his voice caught her off guard. She studied his face—the sharp cheekbones, the scar through his eyebrow, the walls he'd built so high she wondered if anyone had ever tried to climb them.
"I never said that."
"You didn't have to. You left."
Three words that held a world of pain. Aria felt something crack inside her chest.
"I was scared."
"Of what? Me?"
"Of how you made me feel."
Silence stretched between them. Ridge moved to the window, his back rigid.
"How's that working out for you?"
"Terrible, actually."
He turned, surprise flickering across his face.
"That night," she continued, "it was the first time in my life I felt... free. Wild. Like I could be someone other than perfect little Aria who never steps out of line."
"And then you ran back to your safe little world."
"Because this isn't my world, Ridge. Look around. I don't belong here."
"You're carrying my baby. That makes you belong wherever I am."
The possessiveness in his voice should have angered her. Instead, it sent heat pooling low in her belly. What was wrong with her?
"I'm not a possession."
"No." He moved closer, backing her toward the bed. "You're something much more dangerous than that."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
His hand cupped her face, thumb tracing her cheekbone. "It means you're the first thing in my life I can't afford to lose."
Before she could respond, his mouth claimed hers. The kiss was desperate, hungry, full of three months of separation and need. She melted into him, her hands fisting in his t-shirt.
When they broke apart, both breathing hard, Ridge rested his forehead against hers.
"I looked for you," he whispered. "Every dive bar, every hospital. I thought I'd imagined you."
"Ridge..."
"You don't get to disappear again. Not with my child."
The possessiveness was back, stronger now. It should have scared her. Instead, it made her feel protected in a way she'd never experienced.
"The Blood Reapers," she said. "Are they really a threat?"
His jaw tightened. "Yeah. They are."
"Because of the baby?"
"Because of you." His hand moved to her stomach.
"Because they know you matter to me."
"How could they know that? We just met again twenty minutes ago."
Ridge's expression turned dark. "Someone's been watching you. For weeks, maybe months."
Ice ran down her spine. "Watching me how?"
"Following you. Taking pictures. Learning your routine."
Marcus. The thought hit her like a slap. His sudden appearances everywhere she went. His insistence that they belonged together.
"It might not be the Reapers," she said slowly.
"What do you mean?"
She told him about Marcus. About the controlling behavior, the stalking, the way he refused to accept their breakup.
Ridge's face turned murderous. "Where is he now?"
"I don't know. Ridge, you can't just—"
"The hell I can't." He moved toward the door.
"Stop." She grabbed his arm. "Violence isn't the answer to everything."
"In my world, it's the only answer that matters."
"This is what I'm talking about. This is why I don't belong here."
He turned to face her fully. "Then where do you belong, Aria? With some suit who treats you like a trophy? Someone who'll control every breath you take?"
"That's not—"
"It is exactly that. You think your world is so much better than mine? At least I'm honest about what I am."
He had a point, and she hated him for it.
"I need to go home. I have class tomorrow."
"No."
The single word hit her like a wall.
"Excuse me?"
"You're not leaving. Not until I figure out who's been watching you and why."
"You can't keep me here against my will." Ridge's smile was sharp as a blade. "Watch me, princess."
The endearment that had sounded sweet in passion now carried an edge of possession that made her blood race for all the wrong reasons. Or maybe all the right ones.
Ridge left her there and pulled the door shut. She heard the lock turn. Then his boots in the hallway. Then his voice, low and clipped, talking to somebody on the phone.
She pressed her ear to the wood.
"—don't care what he's paying you. I want everything on Marcus Hale. Bank, phone, the whole thing." A pause. "No. Same file as before. Just update it."
Aria stepped back from the door.
She had given him a first name. That was all she had given him.
She had never once said Hale.