Page 6 of My Christmas Biker
Inside, I had nearly a dozen wrapped presents for my uncle, mother, and cousin. He snatched the only bag out of the two that mattered.
“Hey!” I shouted, picking up my smaller suitcase and running after the thief. “Stop!” I screamed. Airport security shouted after us as I pointed to the guy ahead of me. “He stole my bag!”
The thief was already approaching the sliding glass doors of the airport’s front entrance, gaining ground as I huffed behind him. I’d never reach him in time. Neither would security. I ran faster than either of the guards who’d given chase.
As the doors slid open, two big men dressed in black leather vests and dark jeans stepped through, providing an impenetrable barrier I never would have expected. The young man who’d stolen my case collided with the taller of the two, bouncing off his solid chest before he slipped on the polished floor. The thief landed on his ass as my case landed a few feet away, intact.
Thank goodness for that. I didn’t need my underwear on display or the presents I bought damaged.
The bulkier of the two bikers, who happened to be the shorter of the two men, reached down and grabbed the guy by the collar. “You stealin’, kid?”
“That’s my case!” I shouted, skidding to a halt as my boots scraped the floor. I stared up at the tall biker, taking in his impossibly broad shoulders, tapered torso, and the tight black shirt he wore underneath his leather vest. He had a no-nonsense vibe coming off him but also concern.
“That yours?” he rumbled as I snatched the handle, dropped my other case, and held onto both as I tried to catch my breath.
I wasn’t out of shape, but I did just run half the length of the airport to catch the thief. “Yes.”Breathe, Ginny.“He almost got out the door with it.”
“Where the hell is security?”
Good question.
We all watched as the guards finally reached us. They breathed hard, too out of breath to speak for a full minute. I held my tongue, not wanting to be a bitch about their slow progress.
The stockier, shorter biker, who had to be at least six feet tall, held onto the young man who struggled against him, swinging his fist. “I wouldn’t do that, boy. You might want to pay attention to who’s holding your dumb ass.”
Kid? I realized the young man appeared to be a teenager. Where were his parents?
One of the security guards finally spoke up. “Thanks for the assist.”
The other ticked his chin at the bikers. “He would have gotten away with the lady’s luggage if you hadn’t been here.”
Yeah, that was obvious.
A blast of cold air and a gust of swirling snowflakes blew in as the automatic doors swished open behind the bikers. I shivered and stepped back, finally tugging on my coat that I had carried along with my smaller suitcase.
The tall biker noticed, and he moved further into the airport. His friend joined him, shoving the thief at security.
The guards nodded their thanks, gripping the young man’s jacket, before offering their apologies to me.
“I’m just happy he didn’t get away with the Christmas presents for my family.”
“We’ll make sure this is handled.”
I nodded and watched the security guards and their prisoner leave with a sigh. “I really appreciate the help.”
“Not a problem,” the shorter one answered.
The taller biker, who had to be closer to six and a half feet tall, answered in his gruff voice. “Glad we caught him.”
I glanced outdoors, catching the nearly white-out conditions outside. “Did you see any cabs outside?”
Both men shook their heads.
The stocky biker frowned. “No. We just heard on the radio it’s a level three snow emergency. No one is supposed to be out unless it’s necessary to drive.”
“Most of the city seems to be shut down,” Mr. Tall, Chiseled, and Handsome added.
Yeah, that was my new nickname for the taller biker. A tattooed, bearded hunk of a man with striking blue eyes who assessed me without apology or hesitation. His beard was peppered with a bit of gray, and the term silver fox popped intomy head. Something about him felt protective but also wild, untamed, and virile.