Striker's Yield (Devil's Riot MC Book 13) by E.C. Land

Author:E.C. Land [Land, E.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dark & Damaged Romance Publishing
Published: 2024-08-18T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 11

Autumn

I should’ve seen it coming. I mean, I knew it was, and yet I allowed myself to be sucked in. I’m a fool for thinking . . .

You know what? Nope. I’m not gonna go down that rabbit hole. I’m going to put it due to me being a momentary idiot and thinking I could live in a pretend world, or well, a moment in time where I wasn’t me, and he wasn’t him.

Maybe it was the fact that I’d been able to slip back into a dreamless sleep next to him after the nightmare I’d woken up to. Or that he held me, helped me, was just there for me when I needed someone, and no one has ever done that before.

But seeing that woman wrap herself around Striker was the slap in the face I needed to wake me up. She’d been everything in looks that I’m not. Beautiful hair, flawless skin, nothing out of proportion. She even had a great rack—nothing over the top.

Me, I’m not like that. Sure, I’m not ugly to look at. I know this, but when I look in the mirror, I see my flaws. I know my breasts are too big. My ass isn’t that big, but it’s big enough to make it hard to find jeans to fit just right. Finding leggings that don’t show a camel toe, yeah, that’s not going to happen. I’m average at best. When I see myself in the mirror, I judge my appearance. I always have.

Then again, these days, I avoid looking at myself. Earlier, though, I chanced a look in the mirror after my shower, trying to see what he sees in me, but I couldn’t.

Thankfully, Lila let me ride with her out of there when she’d been leaving to do something for Kenny. She saw what happened and didn’t fuss about it. I was grateful she hadn’t gone in her brother’s defense either. She just left me be. I sat silent, just listening to the music, and didn’t even pay attention to her talking on the phone.

I probably should’ve because, after her quick trip into the store, she was going to take me home. Unfortunately, she didn’t take me to my home, but rather hers. To make matters worse, Striker was standing there like he’d been waiting.

Great. Just freaking great.

He opens my door before I can say a word, reaches in, unbuckles my seatbelt, grabs my arm, and pulls me out of the car.

“Get back to the clubhouse, Lila,” he orders, slamming the car door closed.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I demand, yanking away from him. Well, trying to, that is.

Striker doesn’t answer me with words. Instead, he pivots and spins me in his arms until I’m plastered to his side as he walks up to the porch and into the house. He must have been here long enough to unlock the house.

Once we clear the door, he uses his foot to kick the door shut. Only then does he let me go.

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