“No time. Sorry.” He forced himself to quickly wash up and step out of the shower, leaving her to tend to her own hair. He dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. As he brushed his teeth, wiping the steam from the mirror, Madigan began singing.

“Whooooaaa.”

God, her voice…It got to him every damn time she sang.

He was so fucked.

She sang about counting down the hours until they saw each other again and his touch being like a drug. Her sultry voice drove that knife deeper. He leaned his palms on the counter, blowing out a breath, his head falling between his shoulders as she sang about him being like a cigarette, a shot of liquor, and how she craved him, followed by a long, melodic, “Yeah.” When she sang about when they kissed, he lifted his gaze to the mirror, the steam swallowed his image, and her sweet voice threatened to steal his resolve.

He strode out of the bathroom, refusing to get any more caught up in the angel who effortlessly drew him from his darkness. He put on boxer briefs and jeans and headed into the kitchen for coffee. There was a knock on the door. He raked a hand through his wet hair and went to answer it, thinking some dumb bastard had the wrong apartment.

He pulled the door open, and his chest iced over at the sight of Blaine standing on his doorstep, with Zander and five other large men standing behind him, arms crossed over their black leather vests, seven motorcycles lined up in the lot, blocking his bike in. Tobias squared his shoulders, hands flexing as he shifted on his feet, readying for a fight.

“I told you to stay the hell away from Madigan,” Blaine said threateningly.

“As far as I can tell, she’s a grown woman capable of making her own decisions.”

Madigan’s singing rang out behind him. “It feels good to—”

Tobias’s gut fisted as she came to his side, her happiness shut off like a switch as she stalked past him wearing her leather miniskirt, one of his T-shirts tied at her waist, and a furious scowl.

“What the hell are you all doing here?” she asked with annoyance.

“Saving your ass,” Blaine said sharply.

She scoffed. “I don’t need saving, Blaine. What is wrong with all of you? Go home.”

Blaine stepped toward her, and Tobias stepped onto the porch, inserting himself between them.

Blaine glowered and turned angrily to Madigan. “Then you know this son of a bitch, Tobias Fucking Riggs, killed a man and just got out of prison three months ago?”

Fuuck.

The color drained from Madigan’s face, and she turned to Tobias, chin trembling, looking young and vulnerable with her wet hair, face void of makeup. “Is that true?”