Silver Saints MC Volume 1 - Fiona Davenport Page 0,3

sliding glass doors leading to the balcony, I realized he was actually in my room. For real. Dressed all in black; leather jacket under his cut, shirt, jeans, boots, and gloves.

Jerking upright, I gasped, “What in the world?”

“Fuck,” he gritted out. Those pale green eyes of his narrowed, raking up and down my body. Then his nostrils flared, and his lips firmed into a line. All of his focus was on me, just like I’d always wanted. Only I couldn’t wrap my brain around it.

“You shouldn’t be here,” I hissed when he made it to the side of my bed. My gaze darted from him to the door and back again. My dad wasn’t around, but I knew that he’d left guys to watch over the place because I was home. “Someone’s going to catch you and then—”

He reached down to wrap his hand around my arm, and I lost track of what I’d been trying to say. “Quiet,” he ordered.

“But—”

“If you can’t keep quiet, you’ll be right—someone will figure out I’m here. But you’ll also be wrong because they’re not gonna catch me. They try to get in my way, what they’re gonna get is hurt. Doesn’t matter how many men I have to go through; you’re coming with me.”

“Coming with you?” I echoed. I shook my head in confusion, and his fingers tightened on my arm.

He bent down low, his face only inches from mine. “You heard me. We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Choice is yours.” His gaze dropped down to my chest, where my pebbled nipples were poking against my tank. “If you’re looking for an incentive to go the easy route, cooperation means I don’t have to carry your ass outta here dressed like you are right now.” His expression darkened, the idea really seeming to piss him off.

Considering I only ever wore this little clothing in the privacy of my bedroom—and that the man doing the talking was Mac—the decision was simple. “I have a sweater and jeans I can toss over my pajamas.”

He lifted a hand, and one long finger traced the strap of my tank on my shoulder. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks, a mixture of shyness and desire evoked by being so close to my fantasy man with barely any clothes on. “Get ‘em on. Now.”

When he stepped back and jerked his head towards my closet, I scurried off my mattress. It only took me a minute to grab what I needed and toss it on. Then I shoved a pair of socks onto my feet and slid on a pair of gym shoes. As soon as I was done, Mac led me out the sliding glass door and onto my balcony.

“Shit!” he grunted.

“What’s wrong?” I whispered. I squinted my eyes and tried to peer around, worried that he’d spotted one of the guys and something awful was about to happen.

“Just trying to figure out how the hell I’m gonna get you down safely.”

I glanced over the railing at the ground, surprised that I didn’t see a ladder. “How’d you get up here?”

“Jumped and pulled myself up,” he muttered distractedly. Like it was no big deal, and it didn’t make him sexier than he already was. “If I drop down first, I can catch you but you’ll have to be careful going over the railing. Or,”—his eyes raked up and down my body again—“I can lower you down far enough that you’ll be able to fall the rest of the way without getting hurt. You’re light enough that it’ll work.”

I jerked my finger to the left. “Or we could just use the fire escape ladder my dad got me for that window. He kind of goes overboard when it comes to my safety.”

“Not nearly fucking enough,” he grumbled as he followed me back into my room and over to the window. When I bent over to pick up the ladder, he nudged me out of the way. I had to bite my lip to stifle a nervous giggle at the ridiculousness of him being pissed at my dad for me not being more protected when he was in the middle of kidnapping me. I’d barely managed to contain myself by the time he had the ladder set up and glowered at me. “You’re gonna go down first. And don’t forget to be quiet, or else my man out there is going to have to take out anyone who comes to investigate what’s going