Her Possessive Bikers

25. Jacoby

25

JACOBY

I knock on Indy's door, running a hand over my shaved head. The morning sun streams through the clubhouse windows, catching on the chrome of the bikes outside. When she opens up, my breath catches - even in simple jeans and a worn Metallica shirt, she's gorgeous.

"Morning, sunshine. Ready to learn how to handle something with real power between your legs?"

She chokes on her coffee, seemingly caught off guard by the comment. She pulls herself together and rolls her eyes but grins. "I'm sorry, just curious if that line has actually ever worked on anyone?"

"You'd be surprised." I lean against her doorframe. "Seriously though, thought today might be good for your first lesson. Weather's perfect, roads are quiet."

"Give me five to grab my jacket." She disappears back into her room.

"Bring those boots too," I call after her. "The ones with the good ankle support."

"Yes, teacher," she sings out sarcastically.

I chuckle, watching her gather her things. She emerges with a leather jacket that must have been Brick's - it's way too big but somehow looks perfect on her.

"That his?" I ask softly.

She nods, fingers trailing over the worn leather. "Found it in the closet. Figured he'd want me wearing it for this."

"He'd be proud as hell, seeing you on a bike." I push off the wall. "Come on, Cooper. Let's go get the chieftan and see what you're made of."

Her hazel eyes spark with challenge. "Just try to keep up, Wilson."

God help me, but this woman's going to be trouble. And I can't wait for every second of it.

The wind whips past as Indy's arms wrap tight around my waist. Her chin rests on my shoulder, and I catch a whiff of her shampoo - something sweet and floral that makes my head swim. Focus, Wilson. I guide my bike down the familiar streets to Brick's house, trying to ignore how perfectly she fits against my back.

"You good back there?" I call over the engine's rumble.

"Never better!" She squeezes tighter as we take a corner. "Though I'm starting to see the appeal of riding."

We pull into Brick's driveway, and I kill the engine. Indy hops off first, practically bouncing with excitement as she heads for the garage. I follow, watching her punch in the code and raise the door.

There it sits - Brick's pride and joy, a perfectly maintained Indian Cheiftan. Indy runs her hand along the chrome, her expression soft.

"Ready?" I swing my leg over Brick's bike, patting the seat behind me. "Gotta get a feel for riding passenger on your own bike before you take the controls."

She settles behind me, and I kick the bike to life. The familiar rumble fills the garage as I ease us out onto the street.

"First lesson - lean with the bike in the turns," I instruct as we cruise toward Miller Park. "Don't fight it."

"Like this?" She follows my movements perfectly as we wind through traffic.

"Natural talent, Cooper. Must run in the family."

The park's nearly empty when we arrive, just a few early morning joggers circling the paths. Perfect for teaching. I cut the engine in the empty lot and help Indy dismount.

"Alright, hotshot." I pat the front seat. "Your turn. Show me what you got."

Her eyes light up as she takes her place in the driver's seat. I slide in behind her, placing my hands lightly on her hips.

"Clutch is your left hand, brake's your right. Gas is-"

"Right foot, brake's left." She grins over her shoulder. "I've been watching you, remember?"

"Observant. I like that in a woman." I guide her hands to the proper positions. "Now, easy on the throttle..."

My hands rest lightly on Indy's hips as she gets a feel for the clutch. The morning sun beats down on us, and I'm hyper-aware of every small movement between us.

"That's it, nice and easy," I murmur as she smoothly releases the clutch. "You're a natural at this."

She laughs, the sound carrying on the breeze. "Maybe it's genetic. Or maybe I've just been studying how you handle yours."

"Been watching me that closely, huh?" I tease, steadying her as she navigates a turn.

"Don't flatter yourself, Wilson." But I catch her grin in the mirror.

After another twenty minutes of practice, she's handling the bike like she's been riding for years. The way she leans into the curves, how she anticipates the shifts - it's impressive as hell.

"Think you're ready to take her home?" I ask, giving her shoulder a squeeze. "I'll follow right behind you on mine."

"Really?" Her eyes light up. "You think I'm ready?"

"It's your bike now, Cooper. And yeah, you're ready, you were born ready."

We switch to our respective rides, and I watch her pull out first, moving with a confidence that makes my chest tight. Following behind her, I can't help but admire how natural she looks on that machine.

The wail of sirens cuts through the air. Two fire trucks tear past us, headed in the direction we're going. My stomach drops when I realize they're heading toward Brick's neighborhood.

Indy notices too - I see her posture change, tension rippling through her shoulders. As we round the corner onto Maple Street, black smoke billows into the clear morning sky.

"No," I hear her whisper, the word carried back to me on the wind. "No, no, no..."

Flames lick up the sides of Brick's house, black smoke billowing into the morning sky. My heart drops as Indy nearly dumps the Chieftan in her rush to dismount. She takes off running toward the inferno, her father's leather jacket flapping behind her.

"Indy, stop!" I catch her around the waist, pulling her back against my chest as she struggles. The heat from the fire scorches my face even from this distance. "You can't go in there!"

"Let me go!" She thrashes in my grip, her voice cracking. "The Chevelle - Jacoby, I need to get the Chevelle! It's all I have left of him!"

I hold her tighter as firefighters rush past us with their hoses. "You'll get yourself killed. Is that what your old man would want?"

"Please," she begs, her body trembling against mine. "The garage might still be okay. I have the keys right here." She fumbles in her pocket, producing a keyring with shaking hands.

I glance at the detached garage - it's not on fire yet, but it won't stay that way long. Cursing under my breath, I grab the keys from her palm.

"Stay here," I order, gripping her shoulders. "I mean it, Indy. Don't fucking move."

Her frightened eyes lock onto mine, tears cutting tracks through the soot already settling on her cheeks. "Be careful."

I sprint toward the garage, shouldering past a firefighter who tries to stop me. "That's a family heirloom in there, asshole!" The heat from the main house is intense, making sweat pour down my face.

The garage door groans as I force it up, smoke immediately rushing out. Through the haze, I spot the Chevelle's chrome gleaming. My hands shake as I jam the key into the door.

"Sir, you need to evacuate immediately!" A firefighter grabs my shoulder.

I shake him off. "Back the fuck off! I'm getting this car out!"

The engine roars to life on the first try. Thank God Brick kept her in pristine condition. Above me, the garage roof creaks ominously. Flames are starting to lick through the connecting wall from the house.

I throw it in reverse just as the first support beam crashes down where the hood was seconds ago. The Chevelle's tires screech against concrete as I gun it backward, narrowly missing a fire truck.

Indy's standing exactly where I left her, hands pressed to her mouth. I kill the engine and jump out, catching her as she launches herself at me.

"You stupid, beautiful idiot," she whispers against my neck.

I pull back, wiping soot from her cheek. "Couldn't let you down." My phone's already in my hand, dialing Tres. He picks up on the first ring.

"We got trouble. Someone torched Brick's place." I keep an arm around Indy as she trembles. "Got the Chevelle out, but the house is gone."

"God damnit, where is Indy? She wasn't in there was she?" Tres, once a pillar of collectedness seems disheveled on the phone.

"She's fine. We were out, I was teaching her to ride, we stumbled upon it when we came back."

Tres's voice is deadly calm. "Get back here. Now."

"Copy that." I end the call, turning to Indy. "You good to drive?"

She nods, taking the keys with steady hands. "Following you?"

"Yeah. Stay close." I swing onto Brick's bike, the familiar rumble doing little to calm my racing heart. In my mirrors, I watch Indy slide behind the Chevelle's wheel, her face set in determination as we pull away from the inferno that was once her childhood home.