***

If you see a girl being chased down a street late at night, you stop to help her, right? It's what any decent guy would do. But see, I'm not a decent guy. I love to fight; the feel of someone's nose breaking under your fist, the crunch of their jaw, the sight of blood leaking from their body, it gives me thrills that most people would pay money for. Hearing them groan, or even better, hearing them beg and scream. That's what gets me off. I hurt people, I kill people, and I love it. It's who I am, who I've always been.

So the urge to stop and help this girl confuses me. Is it because she's hot? Because she is, she's fucking smoking! Her body is begging to be touched - to be grabbed, squeezed and stroked. It's perfection. Or is it because I recognize the men chasing her, and know their reputation for being sadistic fucks, who get off on hurting and scaring women?

Either way, I find myself turning around and pulling up beside her. She looks torn, her gaze flicking between my bike and the men behind her. It doesn't take her long to mount my bike though, and when she flips the two scumbags off as we pass them, I know I want this girl in my bed. And I always get what I want.

I've never been much of a talker. I don't make small talk because I don't see the point in talking unless you actually have something to say. Sometimes I sit and listen to the banter between the guys, and part of me wants to join in, but I'm so used to staying quiet, I don't even know how to start. It's never really bothered me. The guys know me; they don't care if I'm quiet. But when I get a close up look at this girl, my brain immediately starts desperately searching for something, anything, to say. I thought she was hot before, but now I can see her in the light from Shelby's café, this girl is something else. She's sexy as hell without even trying. She doesn't dress like a whore, not like the other girls we come across. Her jeans fit her curves perfectly, and her jacket hugs her chest tightly enough to give me a good idea of what's under there. She starts backing away and my hand instantly grabs her wrist as I point towards the café. She stutters a moment, and her British accent almost gets me hard, before I see her give in and she agrees to come inside. I wasn't giving her a choice, but I didn't fancy dragging her in there. Fuck, why can't I think of a single thing to say? My brain is betraying me right now, and it only gets worse when she brushes by me and I get a lungful of her perfume. It's subtle and sweet, and it smells as edible as she looks.

I try to keep my attention on the street outside as I wait for the others to show up, but I can't seem to keep my eyes away from her for long. She rests her head on the counter, looking almost vulnerable for the first time. But that doesn't stop my brain imagining all the different ways I'm going to fuck her. Shit, if Robbie wasn't in the kitchen, and the guys weren't on their way, I'd almost certainly be bending her over the counter already. I scold myself as I feel my body reacting to her and refocus on the street outside. I feel the tension seep out of me as I hear the bikes approaching, and I could almost laugh at the relief that hits me. This girl has me fucked up, and I've only been around her for a few minutes.

I open the door and nod at the guys as they enter. I raise an eyebrow when Skids slaps Jay on the back.

"That was fucking beautiful, boys!" His voice booms in the empty café and I'm about to ask what the fuck they've done now, when I notice the girl's tense posture as she sits up straight, her eyes focussed on Skids. No one even notices her until she speaks.

"Of all the gin joints," she mutters, and the guys finally take a look at her, falling silent.

"Do I know you, love?" Skids asks her, and I see her face break out into a grin. My lips twitch with the urge to copy her, but that urge dies quickly with her next words.

"You should do, Skids. You've seen me naked often enough!"

Oh, fuck no. There's no way this girl went for Skids. He's old enough to be her dad. I'm torn between wanting to high five him and wanting to rip his head off for getting there first.

"Lenni?" He asks, and I rack my brain trying to remember if he's ever mentioned her.

"The one and only!" She spreads her arms out, and the sly wink she gives him sends a shock straight to my groin.

The next thing I know, I'm stepping back to avoid being kneecapped by her heels as he swings her around. My gaze goes back to the street until I hear Skids say she was sixteen the last time he saw her. Okay, so they didn't fuck. Now I have to ask.

"You've seen her naked?" I see her eyes shoot to me as she gasps, and seems to suddenly realize I'm still here. I'd be offended if I wasn't so curious.

"He talks!" She blurts out, and I can tell it was unintended from the blush that creeps into her cheeks. It's gone almost instantly as she seems to realize how the guys are looking at her. They're a bunch of creeps. Even Jay is looking like he wants to eat her alive, and he usually has more dignity than that.

"I used to change her nappies, ya dirty bastards! Girl's like a daughter to me!" Skids obviously notices the looks too, because none of us are dumb enough to miss the pointed look he gives us as he says the word 'daughter'. Fuck, she's off limits. Family is family; we don't go there. Although, my mind is already wondering if 'like a daughter' still applies to the family thing. Maybe I can use that as a loophole and still end up with this girl in my bed.

She's introduced to the guys, and when Skids introduces me as 'Smiler', I almost grin at her shocked laugh. Instead, I just raise an eyebrow and nod, wondering how the hell she has me so twisted up inside. I'm kicking myself for not speaking to her before. Now she's surrounded by the guys, and my stupid ass is still by the door watching the street. I don't even need to watch it, but I don't know how to talk to her like the others do. Not when all I can think of is getting her naked.

I'm distracted from my inner torment when I see her stand and move her hand to the inside of her jacket. Fuck, how did I miss that when she was pressed up against me on the bike? I was too busy focussing on the feel of her thighs wrapped around me to notice the gun. Rookie mistake! My hand is already on my own gun, moving on instinct when she raises an eyebrow at me.

"Easy tiger," she says, as she hands the pistol to Jay. When she pulls a blade out of her boot and hands it to Jay, questions instantly run through my mind. What the fuck is this girl into? "I grew up in a town with two rival bike clubs. I learned a thing or two."

Finally, my tongue decides to work again as I relax and look at her. "If you're packing, why were you running?"

She shrugs and starts spouting off an excuse about it being a last resort, but my attention is drawn to Skids, whose body language has just changed dramatically. Lenni notices it too as she turns to look at him with wide eyes and an innocent smile. Fuck, I totally dropped her in it. For a second, I almost feel bad. Until I realize that Skids is about to get overprotective and demand she stays with us. I'm so fucking good with that.

"I think you need to do some explaining. Starting with why you're not in England, and finishing with tonight. The weapons should be somewhere in the middle." Yes, Skids, don't let her go now. Fuck, I sound like a hormonal teenager.

"England is cold and wet, these are for protection and tonight was a misunderstanding."

She picks her weapons up and moves towards the door, but my hand slams it closed before she can even open it an inch. No way am I letting her go now, and one glance at the others says they feel the same. I can almost hear the argument she has with herself, about whether to stay or to fight her way out. She doesn't stand a chance, but I love that fire inside her that makes her consider it. She looks up at me with a glare, but to be honest, all I can picture is those eyes looking up at me as she's on her knees. I fight the urge to grin at her and hold her gaze with a blank expression instead. My mind's made up. If Skids doesn't make her stay with us, I will. 'Like a daughter' or not, I want this girl. And I'll get her. But for the first time in my life, I don't know if once will be enough, not with her.

***

She has demons. I guess we all do, but hers run deep. I recognize that haunted look in her eyes as she tells Skids some half-assed excuse about why she's here. It's the same look that Jay and Ash get when anyone mentions the military. The cocky, sarcastic girl is gone, and in her place is someone broken. She hides it well, and if I weren't looking hard, I probably wouldn't notice it. But I've been there with Jay, picking him up off the floor when he's drunk himself unconscious to block it out. I've pinned him down when the flashbacks were so vivid he thought he was still in that desert, and he tried to kill everyone around him. I held him like a child when he couldn't stop the tears, and I woke him up when he screamed in the night. And when his eyes flick to mine, I know that he recognizes it too.

I can't help but chuckle when she admits to punching one of the scumbags from tonight, and when Skids encourages her, the broken girl is gone, and Lenni's back. She stands and stretches, and my eyes are instantly drawn to the skin that's exposed at her waist. My stomach drops when I get a glimpse of the ink there. Shit, this girl is killing me. She notices my gaze and quickly covers it up. Now I want to see it even more.

When she gives Jay her address so we can take her home, I can't help but feel smug. She's making this too easy; I don't even have to try. There's no way Skids will let her stay in that shithole, no matter how much she argues. Which I know she will. I can't seem to control my mind today because when she brushes her fingers through her hair, before putting her helmet on, all I can think about is wrapping it around my fist and tugging on it. And from the slight smirk on her face, as she catches me staring, I'm pretty sure she knows where my head was at just now.

The predicted argument doesn't last as long as I thought it would. There's one thing that's always pissed me off about Skids - he always has an answer for everything. But tonight I'm so fucking grateful for it. Before I even realise it, he's persuaded her to come and stay at the clubhouse from tomorrow. She's going to be across the hall from me, so it's only a few steps to get her into my bed. Or me into hers, I don't give a shit either way, as long as she's naked.

When she mentions the bar nearby that she works at, I have to grind my teeth to stop myself saying anything. Maybe she just works behind the bar, but I know that place. I know about the dancers and the type of guys that go there. If she's a dancer there, she won't be for long. I'll be putting a stop to it before she can even think about arguing. The thought of having other men's eyes on her has my fist clenching and my jaw twitching. I force myself to relax when Jay looks at me, obviously wondering what's up with me. He drops it until we're back outside next to the bikes, and I'm lighting a smoke.

"What's up with you?" He asks, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at my face.

I take a deep breath and nod towards the building. "She's hiding," I say, trying not to give away my thoughts.

He looks thoughtful for a minute and I'm reminded of why he's our president. He thinks everything through logically; never letting his emotions rule anything. That's why it was so hard to see him fucked up from Afghanistan. He analyses details and gets his thoughts in order before doing anything. His eyes have stayed on the building while he thinks, but he eventually looks back at me and runs his hand through his hair.

"Yeah," he sighs. "Question is: from what?"

"Or who?" I say, my entire body tensing as I realise that if I hadn't spent the entire evening planning how many ways I was going to fuck her, I would've paid more attention and tried to figure out what the fuck was happening with her. I feel Jay's gaze on me and look back at him. "What?"

He narrows his eyes at me for a minute, before throwing his head back and laughing. I'm about to swing my foot and knock his legs out from under him when he finally looks back at me, his eyes wide.

"Fuck me! You're whipped by a pussy you haven't even had yet!" He starts laughing again, and this time I do sweep his legs out. He stops laughing as his back hits the floor, and he glares at me. I hold a hand out and pull him up, but he squeezes it hard when I try to let go and leans closer to speak quietly to me. "She's his daughter."

"Like a daughter," I correct automatically. I shake my head when I catch his eyes again. "Fuck."

"Yeah. 'Fuck' is right." He says, looking back at her building. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"So do I," I mutter before switching my bike on and pulling back onto the road, letting the growling of the engine drown out every thought of the dark haired girl trying to invade my mind.