My Sugar Biker Daddies

Chapter Six

Chapter 6: A Close Call

Elsie’s POV

The small metal screw felt hot and heavy against my palm. Every day, I waited for the specific hour in the afternoon when the clubhouse fell into a temporary lull. Dean usually went downstairs to meet with Stone, Jeremy took off to the garage to work on his bike, and Collin stayed in the main room, watching the security feeds or reading. It was my only window of time to move my plan forward without six pairs of eyes tracking my every breath.

I sat flat on the floor in the narrow space between the bed and the wall, completely hidden from the door’s peephole. My shoulder muscles burned as I worked. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape.

I kept the rhythm slow and rhythmic, minimizing the sound. The wood around the bottom right anchor of the iron window bars was old. The desert heat had dried it out over the years, and with enough patience, it was flaking away into fine, white dust. I had already cleared a small gap around the heavy bolt. If I could dig deep enough to loosen the anchor entirely, I could use the frame of the bed as a lever to pry the bar outward just enough to squeeze through.

It was a desperate plan, but it was the only one I had.

Suddenly, the heavy floorboards in the living room creaked. The sound was heavy, deliberate, and moving directly toward my room.

Panic flared like a hot iron in my chest. My heart stopped. I didn't have time to sweep up the dust. I shoved the sharp screw deep into the pocket of my sweatpants, scrambled onto the bed, and pulled a heavy photography book onto my lap just as the door handle turned.

The door swung open. Collin stood in the frame.

He didn't knock. He never did. He carried a stack of fresh, folded gray towels in his arms, his dark eyes instantly sweeping the room. They lingered on the window, then moved slowly down to where I sat on the edge of the mattress.

I forced my face to freeze. I swallowed the terror rising in my throat and let the cold, robotic mask slip back over my features. I stared at the open page of the book, not looking at him, not reacting to his sudden intrusion.

Collin walked into the room, his heavy boots coming to a stop just a few feet from where I sat. He set the towels down on the small wooden dresser. He didn't leave immediately. Instead, he stood there, his large arms crossed over his chest, his shadow completely covering me.

"You've been in this room for five hours straight," Collin said. His voice was a low, suspicious rumble that sent a chill down my spine. "You haven't come out for water. You haven't used the laptop. What are you doing in here, Elsie?"

I didn't lift my head. I kept my eyes fixed on a black-and-white photo of a mountain range in the book. "Reading," I said. My voice was completely flat, empty of any emotion.

Collin took a step closer. The toe of his heavy leather boot brushed against the edge of the bed frame. "Look at me when I'm talking to you."

The demand was sharp, meant to provoke me. A week ago, I would have snapped back or shrunk away in fear. Now, I slowly raised my head. I looked directly into his intense, dark eyes, keeping my own expression entirely blank, like a pane of glass. I gave him no anger, no fear, no submission. Nothing.

Collin's brow furrowed. He studied my face, his eyes searching every line of my features for a crack in the armor. He hated this silence even more than Dean did. He reached out, his thick, tattooed fingers gripping my chin firmly, forcing my head up. His skin was warm and rough, smelling of engine oil and tobacco.

"You think you're pretty smart with this quiet act, don't you?" he muttered, his grip tightening just enough to cause a dull ache. "You think if you play the ghost, we'll forget you're here. We won't. I know exactly what you are, little girl. You're a liability waiting to blow up in our faces."

I didn't flinch. I didn't pull away from his touch. I kept my breathing shallow and even, looking right through him as if he weren't even there.

"Let go of me, please," I said, my voice maintaining that same dull, mechanical tone.

Collin stared at me for three agonizing seconds. The tension in the room was suffocating. Finally, he let out a harsh, irritated breath and dropped his hand, pushing my chin away carelessly.

"Get out of bed and come to the kitchen," he ordered coldly, turning his back to me. "Dean brought up dinner. If you don't show up, he'll come in here and drag you out himself. Move."

He walked out of the room, leaving the door wide open behind him.

The moment his back was turned, the mask shattered. My hands shook so violently the book slipped from my lap, thudding softly onto the mattress. I looked down at the floor near the window. A tiny pile of white wood dust was visible against the dark floorboards. If he had looked down, just three inches to the left, he would have seen it.

I gasped for air, my chest heaving as the delayed adrenaline hit my bloodstream. That was too close. Way too close.

They were growing suspicious of my silence, and my time was running out. Every hour I spent in this suite increased the chances of them finding my secret work. I couldn't afford to be patient anymore. I had to speed up.

I carefully kicked a stray blanket over the pile of dust to hide it, shoved my hands into the pockets of my oversized sweatpants, and forced my face back into stone. I walked out into the bright light of the kitchen, ready to face the three predators again, knowing that tonight, I had to dig deeper.