Chapter Eight
Dawn woke up feelinglighter than she had in weeks. Sunlight filtered through the sheer curtains, casting warm golden streaks across her bedroom.
She stretched lazily, muscles pleasantly sore, a slow smile tugging at her lips as she turned her head toward the empty space beside her. Gunner had left early, saying he had an errand to take care of in town.
The sheets were still warm from where Gunner had slept, his scent—leather, smoke, and something purely him—lingering in the air.
Last night had been ... everything. She’d let her walls crack, let herself fall into his arms, let him touch her in ways that made her feel wanted, cherished—even safe. That last part still felt foreign to her, but she didn’t hate it. Not with him.
With a soft sigh, she rolled out of bed and got dressed, still wrapped in the afterglow of their night together. Her mind drifted to Gunner’s promise:“You don’t have to face Jesse alone.”For the first time in forever, she actually believed it.
By the time she grabbed her keys and headed outside, the morning was crisp and bright, the kind of day that made her want to take the long way to work just to enjoy the ride. She hummed to herself, unlocking her car, but the second she opened the driver’s side door, the illusion of peace shattered.
A folded piece of paper sat on the seat.
Dawn froze. Her breath hitched, fingers gripping the car door as a sick feeling curled low in her stomach. Slowly, she reached down, snatching up the note with trembling hands. Her heart pounded as she unfolded it:You think he can protect you? Think again. This isn’t over, Dawn.
No signature. No need for one. She knew exactly who had left it. Jesse.
Why was he so obsessed with her? Why couldn’t he just leave her the hell alone? Dawn had spent countless nights asking herself the same damn question, but no matter how much she tried to make sense of it, there was no logic to be found. There was nothing particularly special about her, at least not in a way that should warrant this level of fixation.
Guys like Jesse had egos the size of mountains and skin as thin as paper. They couldn’t handle rejection. They couldn’t take no for an answer.
The air rushed from her lungs, her pulse hammering in her ears. She whipped her head around, scanning the parking lot, the street, anywhere he could be watching from. But there was nothing. No shadowy figure lurking in the distance. No engine revving in warning. Just silence.
Dawn clenched the note so tight the paper crumpled in her fist. She should’ve known last night was too good to last. Jesse wasn’t done. Not even close.
Her first instinct was to shove the note in her pocket, pretend it never happened. She could handle this. She always had. But then she thought about Gunner. About his words, his promise. Dawn swallowed hard. Maybe, for the first time, she should take him up on that promise. Dawn texted Gunner.
Twenty-minutes later, she heard the familiar roar of a motorcycle echo down her street. She turned her head just in time to see Gunner pull up, the powerful rumble of his bike sending a shiver down her spine. He barely waited for the engine to cut off before he swung off the seat, moving toward her with a storm brewing in his dark eyes.
She knew that look. Knew that barely contained fury, that possessive, protective edge in the way he carried himself. It made her pulse quicken—not from fear, but from something else entirely.
His gaze flicked down to the crumpled note still clutched in her fingers, and his jaw tightened. “That the note from Jesse?”
Dawn exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to crumple it further. “Yeah.”
Gunner didn’t say anything at first, just took the note from her hands, smoothed it out, and read the words. His fingers curled around the paper, knuckles going white. Then, without hesitation, he ripped it in half.
“Pack a bag,” he ordered.
