Joy Ride: A Virgin Romance (Let it Ride Book 3)

by Cynthia Rayne

Rose didn’t remember much of Duke’s exam. She wasn’t sure if she’d be able to look him in the eyes if she could recall all the details. Rose had been under the influence of the Rohypnol, and ecstasy Kent had administered at regular intervals. At first, she’d fought the drugs he’d given her, but then she’d welcomed the stupor they induced.

  Rose had done some internet research and discovered the drug mixture made her more obedient and created a craving to be touched. Other than some scarring, both physical and psychological, there weren’t any long-term consequences from her captivity like a baby or an STD.

  She focused on his question. “Okay. Sure.”

  “Do you want to do the examination in your room? Or mine? Which would make you more comfortable?” She saw genuine warmth in his brown eyes for once.

  “Mine, please.”

  She wanted to be in her own surroundings. Rose led him to the room, settling herself at the Formica table by the window—the bed would be far too intimate. Pushing up one of her sleeves, she placed an arm on the tabletop.

  He set the bag down, and she noted the gold hardware on the handle and latch had been engraved. Doctor Duke.

  Duke followed the direction of her gaze. “It’s an honorary title. Eddie got it for me when I joined the club.”

  “So you aren’t a doctor?”

  “Not technically. But I went to medical school, and I served as a medic in the Special Forces—among other duties.”

  Rose didn’t understand how someone who’d been on track to become a doctor ended up serving in the military.

  “Why would you leave in the middle of med school?”

  “Long story. Right now, let’s focus on your injuries.” Duke stretched a latex glove over his hand and encircled her wrist. Then he studied the dozen or so slashes on her forearm before he placed a palm on them. “I was right last night. These are warm, which is a sign of infection.”

  He grabbed some rubbing alcohol and cotton balls from the bag and cleansed each of the wounds before applying antibacterial cream with a cotton swab. He kept his touch light and professional, and she relaxed. It was almost like he slipped on the role of doctor effortlessly, leaving the grouchy biker persona behind.

  Duke focused on his task, thoroughly probing each of her cuts. Afterward, he wrapped her arm in gauze and secured the bandages with white medical tape.

  “I’m gonna leave you a supply of antibiotic cream and some rubbing alcohol, along with a few bandages. I want you to change them daily.” His expression was stern. “You’d better do it. I’ll be checking up on you.”

  “I will.” Rose glanced at the floor, feeling a flood of familiar shame. Cutting herself seemed so self-destructive, but it helped in some twisted way.

  Duke grasped the other arm and repeated the process. “There’s nothing to be fucking embarrassed about.”

  Rose met his eyes. “I didn’t say I was.”

  “You didn’t have to.”

  She looked away, astonished. He was way too perceptive.

  “You aren’t the first person to deal with shit by cutting yourself, and believe me, you won’t be the last.”

  “Oh, yeah? I bet you’d never resort to hacking yourself up.”

  He hesitated a moment. “You’d be wrong.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “I never used a knife on myself, but as a scrawny kid, I used to pick fights with guys much bigger than me. Know why?”

  “Why?”

  “I wanted them to wail on me.” He laughed without humor. “I didn’t slice myself, but the result was the same. I wanted to be hurt because I couldn’t deal with some bad shit I was going through.”

  Rose bit her lip, not expecting a confession from the big, bad biker. She’d seen him in action for weeks. He was surly, cold, and didn’t take crap from anyone as evidenced by his bruises and the skinned knuckles he sported. It was strangely encouraging to know someone so dangerous had once used pain to handle his trauma.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For sharing. I’m sorry it happened to you, but I’m glad I’m not the only one.” Maybe Duke wasn’t so bad after all.

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, don’t repeat it to anyone or you’ll be on the top of my hit list.”

  “I won’t.” Who’d believe her anyway?

  He finished dressing the other arm and then glanced down at her thighs, which were shrouded in a pair of jeans two sizes too big.

  “Have you been cutting anywhere else?”

  “Nope.” Rose had slashed her thighs too, but she wouldn’t be dropping trou for any man—not even for a checkup. Her body was her own business.

  “And are you lyin’ to me?”

  “I’m telling the truth.” She gave him the expression she’d used on Daisy as a child when she tried to get out of trouble—wide, guileless eyes.

  A long, uncomfortable moment passed, and then he dipped his head. “I’ll take your word for it, then.” He packed his supplies away and checked the clock on the wall. “I don’t have plans for a while. Let’s get you the fake ID we talked about last night.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks.” Rose didn’t have any place to be.

  “Don’t thank me. You’ve been through hell, so you got the right to settle your nerves with alcohol now and then—but it ain’t a solution to your problem.”

  “I know.”

  But a few beers helped her sleep at night, allowed her to push away the memories when it got too bad. He’d been considerate, so she felt a duty to warn him.

  “My sister will kill you if she finds out.”

  “Like I give a damn. I ain’t afraid of her.”

  Daisy had been her protector as long as she could remember. People who crossed her usually ended up on the receiving end of a hardcore beat-down.

  “You should be.”

  Duke laughed. “I’ll take my chances.” He headed for the door. “You want me to take a club cage? Or you okay riding on the back of my bike?”

  Cage was a biker term for car or truck. The Horsemen kept a couple of pickup trucks around for hauling stuff.

  Rose knew why he asked the question, and she was once again astounded by his understanding. To ride on his motorcycle, she’d have to wrap her arms and legs around him to hold on. She hadn’t been physically close to anyone since Kent, Duke’s medical exam notwithstanding.

  She thought about it a moment. The idea of riding around town in the sunshine with the wind in her hair had an undeniable appeal. His offer hadn’t contained any sexual overtones she’d picked up on. He’d been platonic and professional with her for weeks. Her faith in men was at an all-time low, but Duke seemed trustworthy.

  Besides, he was screwing the sexy hellion. Rose, with her barely-there chest, tomboyish wardrobe, and nut-case issues probably did nothing for him. Rose bet she didn’t even register as female, let alone as a potential sex partner.

  She had nothing to worry about.

  “We can take your bike if you want.”

  His mouth fell open for a moment. “Good to see you still have a fire in your belly.” Smirking, he looked her up and down, taking her measure. “My brothers ask girls for panties as payment for a ride. It’s a club tradition.”

  Instinctively, she knew he’d issued a challenge. Duke was testing her nerve, seeing what she was made of.

  Rose had two options—freak out or sass him.

  Growing up, she’d been feisty, able to throw verbal barbs right back at her sister even if she didn’t have Daisy’s gumption. For a moment, she wanted to be her old self once more.

  “I don’t think they’d fit you, but if you really want a pair, fish one out of my top drawer.”

  Duke roared with laughter.

  “I’ll pass.” He winked and headed out the door.

  She followed him, an honest to God smile on her face.

  Chapter Three

  Ten minutes later, Rose clung to Duke’s back as they sped through Hell on his red and black Texas Chopp
er. The fresh air and the sunshine revitalized her. Rose closed her eyes and let the wind rush through her hair. She loved the way the bike thundered across the asphalt. Rose had a total Titanic ‘king of the world’ moment.

  The change of scenery and the fast pace improved her mood. As Daisy put it, she’d been a mole for weeks. Since she’d been here, she’d only left the hotel half a dozen times. Maybe she should start leaving more often. No, she should start living.

  She hadn’t felt this free, this happy, in months.

  Sure, the physical proximity to Duke was disconcerting, but it was worth it. He’d asked her to put her arms around his waist, but she placed them on his shoulders instead. While her thighs were on either side of his, she’d scooched far enough back so her crotch didn’t come into contact with his backside.

  They pulled into the parking lot at Inferno Firearms. She was disappointed the drive was so short. Rose would’ve been happy to stay on the bike all day. The store sign had blazing handguns enclosed by a circle of fire. Not very subtle.

  “We’re getting a fake ID at a gun place?”

  He parked the bike and hit the kickstand. They both dismounted and placed their helmets on the handlebars.

  “Yep, this is a full-service kind of store. You’ll see.”

  He led her inside. At the counter, she found yet another biker. This one was big, hazel-eyed, and had spiked dark hair. Rose didn’t remember seeing him before, but there were a ton of Horsemen, and she had a tendency to keep her head down these days.

  “Hey, Steele.” He jerked a thumb in her direction. “This is Rose, Daisy’s kid sister. We’re here to see Coyote.”

  “Why does she need Coyote’s, er, services?” Steele gave her a brief glance.

  “None of your fucking business.”

  “Would it kill you to be civil?”

  “Probably.”

  Steele rolled his eyes. “Watch your ass. Daisy’s next door at the shooting range, and if she sees you with her baby sister, you’re on your own—just for being a dick.”

  “Like I give a fuck if she’s pissed.”

  Duke stepped behind the counter and led Rose down a long hallway. They eventually stopped at a nondescript door.

  “You in there, Yo?” He knocked.

  Nothing.

  Duke slammed his fist against the wood.

  Still nothing.

  Duke planted a foot on the wooden door, right beneath the knob, and kicked it open, commando-style. Then he marched in the office as if he owned the place.

  She hesitantly followed him. Her mouth fell open when she took in the scenery. It was nerd paradise. Framed Avengers posters were hung on the walls. The whole gang was there: Iron Man, Thor, The Hulk, Captain America, and one she hadn’t heard of – Two Gun Kid. Three bookcases were stuffed full of comic books in plastic sleeves, as well as some collectibles, like two huge, green Hulk hands.

  At the desk, a young guy with enormous headphones watched his screen with rapt attention.

  With a wicked grin that made Rose’s heart beat a bit faster, Duke tapped the other man’s shoulder, causing him to jump out of his chair and throw off the headset like it was a rattlesnake.

  Wide-eyed and panting, he stared open-mouthed at Duke.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

  “Just checkin’ your reflexes. Very sloppy. Better guard your flank, Coyote, or it’ll come back to bite you on the ass one day. Mark my words.”

  “Not all of us are paranoid like you and Steele.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “Holy shit. You took three years off my life, dude.”

  Rose placed Coyote in his early twenties. He had long, straight black hair and copper skin a shade or two darker than Duke’s. Rose bet his heritage was Native American. He wore a Doctor Who shirt under his Horsemen vest, a pair of red high-top sneakers, and worn-in jeans with blowouts in both knees. Coyote was better suited to hanging out at a comic book convention than being a biker.

  “Paranoia keeps us alive, my brother. Speaking of, if you ever call me dude again, you won’t be.”

  “I won’t be what?”

  “Alive.” Duke had an evil gleam in his eyes.

  Coyote made a whatever face and then glanced her way. His expression brightened.

  “Hey there. And who might you be?” Coyote offered her a hand.

  “I’m Rose. Nice to meet you.” She shook it to be polite.

  Duke frowned at their clasped hands. “Now that we’ve all practiced our manners, make her a fake ID.”

  “What for?”

  “Don’t ask questions.”

  Coyote pushed a stray lock of dark hair behind his ear. “In case you’ve forgotten, I ain’t a prospect anymore. I survived Revelation last year, and I ain’t takin’ orders.”

  Rose had overheard one of the prospects use the term Revelation before in a hushed, reverent tone. It was the club’s super-secret initiation ritual, and they all freaked out about the damned thing. Probably with good reason. She bet the ceremony didn’t involve kittens or puppies. More like guns and blood and screaming.

  “That so?”

  “Damn straight.”

  Rose watched the interplay with interest. Coyote might not be manly in the conventional sense, but he had some alpha characteristics. She doubted just any computer nerd could join a biker gang. This could get ugly, quick. So she interceded to save her rattled nerves.

  “I need it to buy alcohol. Nothing terrible, I promise.”

  “Would you tell me if you were up to something terrible?” His grin was lopsided.

  “Probably not.”

  Coyote snickered.

  Duke watched the interplay with his hands fisted at his sides, and a vein on his forehead was a tad more prominent.

  “She’s here for an ID and nothing else.” Duke turned his attention to her. “I’m gonna buy some ammo in the shop. Gimme a shout if you need anything.”

  “Sure.”

  He strolled out of the room.

  “Have a seat, and I’ll get you fixed up.” Coyote gestured to the chair opposite his desk.

  “Thank you.” Rose sat as he began to type away. She surveyed the room once more. “So, you like Marvel?”

  “No, I freakin’ love it. I’ve seen ‘em all in the theaters, own the DVDs and the comics, and I watch the television shows, too.”

  “Who’s your favorite character?” Rose had seen the films but wasn’t as attached to them as he seemed to be.

  “Easy. Coulson—because he’s human…well, human-ish, but works with powerful superheroes.”

  “I saw him in the first Avengers movie. But didn’t he die?” Rose wondered if Coyote literally felt outgunned among so many macho, ex-military types.

  “I cried some manly tears when he got himself killed. But he showed up good as new on Agents of Shield.”

  Rose laughed. “So how’d you become a biker?”

  “My hackin’ abilities got me into a bit of trouble.”

  “Oh, so you’re a hacker?”

  Now she understood why the club would want him. He’d have access to all kinds of databases they might find useful. Especially if they considered themselves vigilantes. Daisy had filled her in on some of the basics of the club. She’d been nervous when she found out another gang had rescued her, but Daisy said they were decent guys who lived a bit outside the law.

  “I prefer the term hacktivist, and yes, I can hack with the best of them. I came to the attention of the CIA and NSA at age thirteen.”

  “Wow.” She loved her laptop, but she’d never learned any heavy duty computer skills like hacking or programming. “Did they try to arrest you?”

  “More like tried to recruit my fine ass.” He squinted at something on the screen. “Hmm, I think that’ll do. I need a picture now. Coyote flicked on a webcam attached to the computer and aimed it at her. “Can you flip down the blue material behind you?”

  She turned to see a couple of swatches on the wall like the DMV used. She found the right back
ground and then posed trying to look as mature as possible.

  “You could crack a smile—look a bit less like you’re standin’ in a lineup or something.”

  “Nah. No one looks happy at the DMV.”

  “Fair point. Ready?”

  “Yep, I’m ready for my close-up.”

  She liked Coyote, and under different circumstances, she’d consider him friend material. Rose didn’t know if she could even manage a friendship with someone new. Right now, she had trouble with basic functioning like eating and sleeping through the night.

  “Three, two, one.” Coyote hit a button and scrutinized the image for a moment. “Perfect. I’ll add the pic and print you off a brand new ID.” He glanced at her over the monitor. “Need anything else?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  After a couple of moments, a plastic card spit out of a large beige machine. Sure enough, the ID had her face on it along with a fake name, birth date, address, and other vital stats. Evidently, he’d captured another person’s license and substituted her image. According to the new card, she was twenty-two years old, which shouldn’t be overly suspicious.

  Excellent.

  This meant she wouldn’t have to swipe any more alcohol from the club. She could use the money Daisy kept stuffing into her hands to buy beer and store it in her room. The alcohol made it easier to sleep—took the edge off her anxiety and allowed her mind to stop racing.

  “Hey, if you want to grab a beer or a burger or…uh, let me know.” Coyote focused on his own desk instead of her.

  Rose didn’t know what to say. Did he mean as friends? Was he asking her out?

  “Uh, thanks, but I have a lot going on right now.”

  “Oh, hey, no worries. I know how it goes. See ya around.”

  She waved goodbye, snatched up her new license, and went in search of her ride. By the time she caught up with Duke, he’d purchased several rounds of ammo and was busy tucking them in his saddlebags.

  “How’d it go?”

  “Fine.” She pulled the ID from her pocket and handed it over.

  “Nice.” Duke thrust it back into her limp hand. “Did Coyote stick to business?”

  Somehow, she got the impression her answer mattered to him.

  “Of course.” She didn’t want any more drama.