She looks around. “Am I staying in here, Heart?”
After all that I’ve said, probably too much, I can see she’s worrying. I need to reassure her I’m not going to force her into my bed, and I’d like Amy to have the option to stay with me for a start. “You can make yourself comfortable in here. I’ll be over the way.” Nodding my head toward the suite opposite, I sigh. “Until I know I can trust you, we’ll keep the doors open, and I’ll lock the outer door and keep the key.”
“I’m more prisoner than your old lady.”
“You’re a cop. And much as it pains me to say, I don’t really know you.” I pull myself to my feet and get the crutches beneath me. “You know why we make the new members prospect for a year or more before they’re patched in?” She doesn’t, I can read it on her face. “It’s a chance for all members to get to know them. And know they can trust them to do whatever’s necessary.” I pause. “Hyde may need to wait a little longer after pulling that stunt today, when he lost you.”
She widens her eyes. “That’s not fair. It wasn’t his fault.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t matter. He failed to do the job he was assigned.”
Her head tilts. “So it’s pretty hard to gain that trust and become a member.” She nibbles her lip, drawing my attention to her mouth. “Am I a sort of prospect then?”
Now that does make me laugh, the thought of her doing all the shit jobs we give the men trying to get patched in. Particularly the thought of her burying a body. “No, darlin’. But like them, you’ve got to earn mine and my brothers’ trust. Just using them as an example that we don’t trust easily. Ain’t gonna just take your word for it.”
She’s right. It is different talking to her in person. On the phone I could hear the little nuances in her tone, but now she’s in front of me, her changes of expression and her mannerisms are bringing her to life. The way she’s biting her lip shows she’s nervous about what she might be getting into, but the strangeness of the situation hasn’t put out her spark. Her hands fluttering by her side show she doesn’t seem to know what to do. It occurs to me as she glances my way, then around the room, that this is a woman who doesn’t like time hanging on her hands.
My thoughts are confirmed as she opens her suitcase and starts taking out her clothes. While she’s occupied putting them away, it gives me a moment to study her. She’s tall for a woman, though shorter than me. She’s still dressed as she’d probably been this morning for her meetings, dress trousers tailored to her long shapely legs, a white blouse tucked in giving a hint of curves underneath. She’s not hugely endowed, but as she leans over, a hint of cleavage comes into view. Strangely, as she’s keeping hidden what the sweet butts have on display every day, there’s another twitch in that organ that’s been dormant for some time.
Fuck me. Now’s not the time to get my first full erection since the day I was knocked off my bike. But part of me is pleased she seems like she could be an acceptable alternative to Viagra.
I sit down again, watching the woman who inadvertently caused the reaction. Her long blond hair sways as she moves, her skin is fair, suggesting her hair colouring is natural, and that she hasn’t been out much in the sun. I can see a smattering of freckles, and when she glances at me, cornflower-blue eyes peep out from under long eyelashes. Her face is oval and her neck slender. The way the whole package is put together suddenly makes me pleased Drummer suggested I treat her as my old lady. Otherwise, I’d be fighting my brothers off with a stick. If they can get past her occupation, I’m sure they’ll see what I’m seeing. She’s a very attractive woman.
At least being called her old man gives me a reason to protect her—not just from our enemies outside, but from horny fuckers within. It’s something I hadn’t previously factored in.
Her clothes put away, she’s fiddling with the last item to put on a hanger. All those phone conversations, and now we’re face-to-face, it’s difficult to find something to say.
As I’m wondering how to break the silence, she fills it herself. “Who do you think is after me, Heart?”
Right now, I can be honest. “I don’t know, darlin’, but someone is for sure.”
“What does the club think?”
Once again, I get to my feet and move over to her. Balancing one crutch under my arm, I reach out my hand and again turn her to face me. “Club business, darlin’, and none of yours.”
She rears back. “Isn’t it mine when it’s my life on the line? That’s not how I work, Heart.”
I close my eyes briefly and take a deep breath. This is going to be every bit as hard as I expected. “It is now, darlin’. We might not find out information by the same methods that you would. We might take actions that you won’t want to know about. If there’s anything you need to know to keep you safe, then we’ll tell you. I promise you that.”
She pulls back those shoulders again, completely oblivious her peaked nipples are poking at the flimsy material. “I can’t be kept in the dark.”
I harden my voice, the biker coming to the fore, which she hasn’t heard before. “You’ll know what you need to, but nothing more.”
“There’s that plausible deniability again.”
If she understands what she’s saying, then the penny has dropped. “Exactly,” I confirm.
She puts the last shirt on the hanger away, but the stiffness of her posture shows while she’s accepted my meaning, she doesn’t like it. I don’t want to leave it like that.
“Hey.” I pull her attention back to me and spell it out. “When all this is over—and it will be over—you’ll be able to go back to your life. You won’t have to think of what you can and can’t say, and as long as you stay out of our business, you won’t have a clue how we work. That’s for your benefit, as well as ours.”
She bites her lip, and fuck me if my cock doesn’t start to swell again, particularly when she looks at me with the full force of those beautiful blue eyes. They’re so big, a man could drown in them. “I’m being an ungrateful bitch, aren’t I? You needn’t be helping me at all.”
I smile at the name she’s coined, but have to admit she’s kinda right. “You’re inquisitive by nature, darlin’, and you have to be for your job. You don’t get to be a detective if you don’t try to seek out every detail.”
She takes a sharp breath, shakes her head, then laughs at herself. “And that’s what got me here in the first place, never knowing when to leave well enough alone.”
“You always want to go after the bad guys yourself. But now, for once, trust us to go hunting.”
Chapter Twenty
Marc…
Trust them? I glare at Heart. He’s asking me to do something he won’t reciprocate. He’s just taken the time to explain that it takes a year or more to become trusted by the club, and now he’s glibly asking for mine straight away.
Well there’s one thing we have in common. I don’t trust easily. Since my family died, I haven’t put my faith in anyone. Not even the person I was partnered with, even though it was expected I should. It’s only ever been me. When I’d lost everyone, I never wanted to lean on anyone again or expect them to be there for me. Now he’s expecting me to depend on others to do what I’ve always done for myself.
And look where it got me? Holed up in a biker compound. Living with the very Devils themselves. If the situation weren’t so serious, it would be funny. And I’m apparently an old lady.
If I hadn’t been shot at this morning, only saved by the overprotective measures Heart had installed to keep his family safe, I’d be reacting much differently. My head is spinning, unable to keep up with everything that’s happened today. I turn away from Heart and stare at a blank wall instead. The Satan’s Devils are criminals. I should be soaking up everything I can, finding evidence to put them behind bars.
The Satan’s Devils saved my life and are doing all they can to keep me in the land of the living.
Someone knows I’ve been investigating things which they don’t want me to. Only my
colleagues at the precinct would know, and either they or someone they’ve passed the information to are trying to kill me.
Who’s in the right, and who’s in the wrong? I can’t even identify the criminals who I should be after anymore.
My hand goes to the head. This is all wrong. As the pain starts pounding, I put my fist to my mouth, biting down on my hand. I’m a cop. The only people who should be a threat to me are perpetrators of a crime. But while I should feel at risk here, I don’t.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay, Marc.”
Ashamed of my weakness, I stifle a sob. I’m lost and overwhelmed.
“Don’t worry about things you can’t control, okay?”
Easy for him to say, much harder to switch my whirling mind off. I need to try, otherwise the warning signs are there that my headache’s going to turn into a full-blown migraine.
His hand starts massaging my neck, only one, as he needs the other to balance on his crutch. I roll back my head, relaxing into the soothing touch. Nobody’s touched me like this, not since I lost my family. “That feels nice,” I tell him, honestly.
“You’re too tense. But all this has been a lot for you to handle, and so much thrown at you all at once. Hey, it’s getting late. You must be hungry.”
I frown, not having considered it, but the last meal I’d eaten was breakfast, and that was a long time back. “I am.” Another truthful admission.
He applies gentle pressure and I turn around. “Come on then, let’s see what’s on offer in the clubhouse.”
Leave this calm oasis? Mingle with people who will view me with distrust? I’d rather stay here. But I can’t hide out forever, and I might as well start facing the music now. Raising my hand, I pretend to take off an invisible hat. “There. Cop uniform discarded. I’m just one of your club women.”
He gives me a very strange look and then says, seriously, “You’re certainly not that.”
I feel my cheeks flushing red, remembering what I’ve read about women as club property. Shit. I have to be careful until I learn all the terminology here. What makes a woman give herself to all these men? Heart’s wide grin, which he is unsuccessful in hiding, makes me turn away. It reveals he knows exactly where my mind’s going.
“Come on.”
Waiting for Heart to get his crutches beneath him, I walk slowly beside him as he works himself over the slightly uneven ground, taking the opportunity afforded by the slow pace to look at my surroundings. Goodness, this place is a beautiful spot, views of the desert stretching for miles over to the Tucson mountains. Saguaro and other cacti dotted all around. I’m not surprised the club bought up this land. It’s far enough from Tucson for them not to be bothered, but close enough to get into town and their businesses there.
The air smells sweet and carries the sound of cicadas, and while the summer sun beats mercilessly down, it’s not such a harsh heat as in the midst of the city.
The clubhouse is much cooler, and Heart leads me straight to the bar. “Jekyll,” he yells. As his head pops up, he already has a beer in his hand.
“What d’ya want?” the prospect asks me, but not in a friendly voice. I suspect I’ve been the topic of some conversation since I’ve been ensconced in my room.
“Er…” Mentally I run through my options, eyeing the shelf and wondering what they stock here. “White wine?” I ask, a little optimistically.
He goes to a fridge and pours a large glass, sliding it to me over the counter. I give him my thanks, which are all but ignored.
“Bring it with you, darlin’.” Heart touches my arm and points to a room off to one side. Following him in, I find it’s a kitchen. There’s a woman sitting at the table eating a meal. Heart tells me to sit down and then goes to open the door of a large fridge. “Fried chicken okay?”
As I nod, he starts pulling stuff out and taking it to the microwave to heat it up.
I stand, seeing how awkward it is for him to manoeuvre his crutches. “I can do that.”
“Nah, I can manage.”
I sit down again, unashamedly watching his muscles flex as he goes about his task. Christ, that man has a great ass.
“You shouldn’t be here. You’re a cop.”
My attention turns to my companion at the table, recognising immediately this must be one of their whores. I don’t even need to be a detective to figure that out. She’s not one of the old ladies who’d come up to the suite and is dressed much differently. Her top is little more than a tiny bikini, her breasts barely confined and pushing out of the top, affording me the hint of a nipple. Despite her sneering tone, I decide to be friendly. “I’m Marcia.”
“Don’t give a fuck about your name, Cop. You stay out of my fuckin’ way and keep your hands off the brothers. You’ve no business here—”
“Shut the fuck up, Jill. And show some respect to my ol’ lady.” Heart’s rounded on her, his face stern, his voice angry. “Now get lost and allow us to eat in peace.”
I’ve heard the saying about eyes bulging out of someone’s head, but haven’t actually seen it before. With her mouth gaping open and without saying another word, she stands, allowing me to see her skimpy skirt and almost everything it barely conceals, takes her plate to the sink, then looks at Heart and then me. With a disbelieving shake of her head, she leaves the room.
Heart comes over and puts a plate in front of me, then gets one of his own. Sitting down, he nods to the door of the kitchen. “Sweet butts get possessive over the brothers.” He smirks. “It seems even one’s they’re not fuckin’.”
“Am I going to have a cat fight on my hands?” I’m not worried, with my martial arts training they wouldn’t have a chance.
Heart’s mouth twists as if he’s trying not to laugh. “Much as I’d pay good money to see that, sweetheart, the answer is no. Not as my ol’ lady. They give you grief? You tell them where to go. Sweet butts are at the bottom of the pole, if you get what I mean.”
I do.
We eat, I clear the plates—including the one left by Jill—rinse, then stack them in the dishwasher.
“How’s your head?”
Again I automatically touch the place where there was a crack in my skull. “Better after something to eat.”
He considers me for a moment, then pulls his crutches toward him and stands. “Come on then, now’s as good a time as any.”
Not quite sure what he means, I let him lead me back to the main room and over to a table.
As we approach, all conversation stops. Heart doesn’t seem to notice, or ignores it, and points to the only empty chair. One of the men gets up and brings another over for him. I recognise some of the men I’ve met already, or got to know briefly in Los Angeles—Wraith, the VP, and alongside him, Peg, the sergeant-at-arms, then Blade, the enforcer, Rock, and Slick. Dollar and Tongue are introduced to me, the latter opening his mouth seemingly to give me a good view of his stud. When he waggles his tongue suggestively, Heart throws him a sharp look. The prospect runs over and brings us new drinks. I take a sip of my nicely chilled wine and realise I’ve got to be on my best behaviour.
Blade takes out a knife, puts it on the table top, and starts spinning it around. I hope that it’s habit and not a threat or promise. From his other pocket, he takes out a pack of cigarettes and extracts one.
Wraith’s mouth curves in amusement. “Reduced to buying your own now?”
The whole table laughs as Blade uses a Zippo to get it alight. I snap my mouth shut and refrain from mentioning you shouldn’t smoke in public places, treating the situation as I would in someone’s home. I suppose this is a private members club, and I’m just a visitor.
I also hide my distaste as smoke blows my way.
The situation is awkward, as if no one knows what to say. They’re not going to continue their previous conversation, and I’m not confident to start a new one. I’m well aware I’m taking too many sips of my wine to give my hands something to do. Just before the silence becomes unbearable, Rock p
oints to me.
“Impressed with your riding. Your bike sure can move.”
“Yeah, but it ain’t a real ride, Rock. It’s a ride for the ladies. She probably couldn’t handle a Harley.” Wraith softens his words with a wink.
A subject on which I can hold my own, and at least it’s safe ground. “Harleys have their place.” I let that sink in, then add, “For riders who can’t handle the speed.”
A round of jeers greets me, a glance at Heart shows he’s grinning. Suddenly a new voice greets me, and another man pulls up a chair. The others shift to give him some space.
“They can’t handle the track either. I’m Roadrunner, Road.” He holds out his hand and I take it. “I’ve got a competition bike which they like to yank my chain about.”
So at least there’s one other person who can have my back on this.
“Ever ride a real bike, sweetheart?”
I nod at Blade. “Sure have, but I prefer Jap bikes, sorry to say. Though I wouldn’t mind a Ducati.”
“Fuck that Italian shit. American built are the best.”
I keep my mouth shut, knowing I’m never going to be able to convince them. I look around the room to give my eyes something to do and suddenly there’s a roar from our table.
“Leave that the fuck alone!” Peg’s got to his feet and is glaring full force at the man leaning over the bar. His brother—Joker, or something—steps clear holding his hands up in surrender. “I’ll play it a fuckin’ second time if anyone else interferes.”
There’s a mass shaking of heads. Heart leans forward and says in a stage whisper, “Musical choice is usually Peg’s.”
I tilt my head and listen more carefully. It’s certainly not music I’d expect bikers to play, but isn’t bad. I pick up my wine again and ask after I’ve taken a sip, “What is it?”
Peg’s sharp eyes meet mine. “The Eagles. Long Road Out of Eden.” He scowls at Blade. “Both albums.”
“I like it,” I tell him honestly.
“Trying to get into my good books, darlin’?”
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