“I will,” she said softly, and he huffed a laugh in her ear.
There was noise in the background where he was, a rising roar of voices shouting greetings. Laughter of his friends nearer to the phone and she heard someone call his name. “Gotta go, Cassie. You ride safe, yeah?”
With a giggle, she said, “Will do, boss.”
She saluted herself in the mirror, already moving to disconnect the call when she heard him say with a smile in his voice, “Shiny side up.” Her reflection’s answering smile surprised her, and she studied her face for a moment before turning away.
Her route, approved by him, was to head through downtown and south for about thirty miles on one of the main state highways. Her assignment, provided via text this morning, was to gas up at an unfamiliar place, and then stop for food on her way home. It should be about an hour total, maybe a little more depending on how slowly she rode.
I can do this. That had become her mantra, and with Tug’s encouragement, she believed she could.
Sitting in the center lane at a red light near the downtown courthouse, she was looking up at the signal when she first heard the noise. A low rumble, it sounded like a train approaching, and she expected the pavement to begin shaking underneath her feet. Whipping her head to the right, she saw a long double-line of motorcycles pulling to a smooth stop, their light having gone red and impeding their progress.
Eyes flicking between the light—the left turn lane had a green, she would be next—and the mass of motorcycles, she had a moment to register that every rider she could see was looking at her before the light in front of her went green. Feigning nonchalance, she nodded her head at the lead riders as she smoothly released her clutch. She was filled with equal amounts of fear and excitement when they nodded back at her.
Holy cow, that was a lot of bikes, she thought, working her way up through the gears and looking ahead to the next set of lights, keeping track of the cars on either side of her at the same time. Like…a bunch of bikes. Lined up two-by-two as they had been, there were probably forty rows, which meant at least eighty bikes. Holy cow. The right lane ended just ahead, and she slowed slightly to allow a car to slide in ahead of her.
Catching movement in one of her mirrors, she was stunned to see that the mass of bikes was now riding up the road behind her. In her lane. Cars were moving out of their way, and she looked frantically left and right, but there was no room and no place to pull over to allow them to pass. Crap. Hugging the right-third of the lane like Tug had taught her, she cruised along, heart in her throat, waiting for them to go around her. She was making room, after all. Pass me, pass me. Please, pass me.
A bike pulled up beside her and her hand slipped on the throttle, unevenly holding her speed. She relaxed her grip, smoothing out the application of gas and dared a glance over. The man was staring at her and when he saw he had her attention, flipped her a two-fingered wave. He grinned, his mouth curving up in a pleased smile and he tipped his beanie-covered head, steering one-handed as casually as if he had been riding a motorcycle all his life. Which he probably has, she thought, and then stared ahead again, brain working overtime. He looks familiar.
***
Hoss
Hoss’ heart stuttered in his chest. Cassie. On a fucking motorcycle. Riding as if she had been doing it all her life. It seemed so out of character for the woman he’d met and studied. If asked to put money down on the idea, he would have confidently wagered against it. The instant he recognized her, with a raised hand, he had rerouted the direction of the club’s run, pulling them south from the downtown red light, cutting off traffic to slide out as close behind her as he could. Weaving around the couple of cars between them, he watched as she rocked her bike to the outside of the lane, leaving room for him to pull up next to her, as if she had done this a hundred times before. What the fuck?
He changed position in the lane, moving up beside her bike in order to watch her. The oversize goggles on her face couldn’t hide how pretty she was, and he wondered at the full leathers since they were still in mild fall weather. He had shown up to Sammy’s last three home games with binoculars, noting the different face in her seat for one of them as the usher had warned him. The other two he had spent more time watching her than the game, enjoying how excited she got for the boys, frowning when he couldn’t catch some interaction through the glass. He hadn’t tried to see her again in person, but Hoss felt obsessed, still driven to draw and sketch her from memory every night when he stepped into the studio.
“Prez.” He heard the shout from behind him and glanced back to see Tug riding up on his left, putting them three bikes wide across two lanes. “Don’t fuck with her, man. She’s scared.”
Twisting to look at Cassie again, he recognized the truth of what Tug said. The tightly clenched jaw, goggle-distorted wide eyes staring straight ahead from a too-pale face, Cassie’s hands were fused to the handlebars with a death grip. Turning back to Tug, he shouted, “Got it.”
Tug hung there beside him, intruding on his space in a way that wouldn’t be healthy for anyone else. He yelled, “Hoss, man. Let me next to her. She’s used to me.” Turning slightly on his seat, Hoss gave Tug his full attention. What the fuck? “Hoss, let me in. She’s going to freak.”
He held Tug’s gaze for a moment and then fell back, trusting the men behind him to give way, and they did, changing positions smoothly. A good effect of riding together for so long. Tug swooped into the lane beside her, crowding her a little to get her attention and damned if when she looked over and recognized him if she didn’t give that old man the brightest smile. Hoss’ chest clenched and he tried to ignore a heavy wave of jealousy that she’d handed the expression to Tugboat instead of him.
Tug shouted something at her, and she nodded in response, gifting him with a second smile. Hoss could see some of the tension falling away from her, intently watched the transformation as an easy confidence slipped into its place.
Tug rocked his throttle a little, and she fucking laughed, responding in kind, surging ahead of him by a foot. Then, when glancing back at him, she caught sight of the rest of the bikes. The moment she did the front wheel of her bike wobbled and Hoss could see her start to lock up again, the smile she was giving Tug fading as fast as a gray winter sunset. Fuck. Hoss dropped a hand beside his leg and patted the air, easing the rest of the column back, giving Tug and Cassie space.
The old man got her attention again and yelled, anger clear in his tone. All Hoss caught was “head out of your ass,” but it was enough to make Cassie sit up taller on her bike, which made him grin. Yeah, she was somehow acquainted with Tugboat, and that was a story he would be hearing sooner rather than later. Chin down now, no longer fooling around, she stared ahead, holding her throttle even, keeping her place just behind Tug.
They rolled out of town that way, in two staggered lines, nearly a hundred motorcycles growling their way down the highway. Each rider used their skills to remain in place, so as to not have the hated inchworm effect come into play where the lines stretched out and then contracted again. And Hoss rolled directly behind Tug, where he could keep an eye on Cassie, as she rode between them in her section of the lane.
A dozen miles along, Hoss knew the road would soon narrow to two lanes so he motioned with one hand, calling half the ranks up to pass Tug and Cassie, and let them fall into place ahead. Deke lead the charge, his Road Captain title meaning he should have been at the head the whole time, and Hoss knew he would hear about that from the man. This, along with the fact that he had derailed their original run plans, which had been to hit up two clubhouses in Ohio. Deke would now be mentally recalculating mileage and gas, and not knowing the skill level of the addition to their line, and a woman at that, he would likely be planning pit stops, too.
Hoss pulled out and passed Tug, then slipped back into line ahead of him, rolling off his throttle gradually. Creating an expanding space ahead of them, he motioned the rest of the ranks up, grinning as PBJ pulled up beside him, cal
ling loudly, “Play, Prez?”
“Y’all roll. Me and Tug are good,” he shouted with a hand signal to move on ahead, effectively releasing the group from staying with them. He could see his idea didn’t sit well with PBJ and wasn’t surprised by the head shake when it came. “We’re good,” Hoss called again, waving the man forward.
“Ain’t how this shit works,” was all he got and then PBJ had pulled back out, decelerating and falling in behind him and Tug and Cassie.
Staying just ahead of her, he watched her in his mirrors and still couldn’t keep from turning occasionally, just to watch her ride. From the grin on her face most of the time, she was hooked on the wind, and that was a glorious thing to see. She held her line like a champ, even on the few sweeping curves on the road, staying in the section of the lane she had camped out in, making it her own. After about an hour and a half, he caught sight of her rolling her shoulders and knew she was probably running out of oomph. In the next long passing zone, Hoss opened his throttle and clawed his way up the line until he got Deke’s attention in his mirrors. Motioning gas and food, he waited for an acknowledgment before he uncurled that acceleration and dropped back in beside her.
Twenty minutes later, he saw the signals begin and looked over to make sure she was paying attention. Sitting straight up on her seat, it was clear she was, but he could see the ease and comfort falling away again, watched as fear and nerves settled back into place on her face. Fuck. Gliding close to her in the lane, he got her attention and pointed to his gas tank. She flicked her eyes to her gauges, then back to him with a nod. He put his fingers to his mouth, pretending to eat something and his breath caught in his chest when she grinned at him, nodding big. He made an okay sign with his fingers as he slipped back to his side of the lane, listening to the changes in the bike exhausts in front of him.
Thinking she might prefer Tug beside her, he slacked off the throttle, but then saw she had matched him, more concern etched on her face. Fuck, she’s afraid of screwing up. Making an ease-down gesture with the flat of his hand, he saw her nod and fall back. Smart and brave, just like he had known she must be.
Rolling slowly into a gas station Deke had found for them, he got in line behind two bikes, watching as she pulled to the front of the store, backing into a parking space before killing her ride and getting off. Then he had the privilege to watch as Cassie hit the lot at a run, arrowing directly at Tug. The old man had barely gotten off his bike before she got to him, knocking him back on a foot and wrapping her arms around him in a hold so tight it made Hoss’ throat close up. Fuck. She trusted the old man in a way that she wasn’t afraid to share with him.
Hand to the back of the woman’s helmet, Tug held her head to his shoulder, pride shining from his face. He pulled back and asked her something, and from her head motions, the response was a resounding yes. Tug tipped his head back and let loose, laughing open-mouthed for a long time. She stepped back and punched him in the shoulder, then crowded in close when he pretended it hurt, and then punched him again once she realized he was joking. After another brief exchange and hug, she turned and walked towards her bike, reaching up to remove her helmet.
“Cassie,” Hoss called and frowned as she froze up, the stutter in her step causing a stumble. She recovered, turning in a slow circle to see who had called her. He lifted a hand and waved, captured her attention and kept his hand up determinedly until he received a wave in return. Gaze locked to hers, he watched her closely for signs of the same panic he had seen at her house, but she just gave him a small smile and turned away.
Deke stalked close, and Hoss eyeballed him, trying to gauge what level of angry he’d be facing, which surprisingly didn’t seem bad. “Diner about two minutes up the road, friendly.” Deke pointed and Hoss nodded. They would be eating lunch there, especially as it was a biker-friendly place nearby. The club found it prudent to patronize those places, give them good money to keep them friendly, make sure brothers from all over had a welcoming place to plant their asses when they rode in tired and hungry from a long run.
He gassed up, keeping an eye towards Cassie, watching as Tug walked her through the protocol of using pumps when a bunch of bikes needed the same resource. Deke stopped and spoke to the old man, ignoring the woman as he would any who rode with them but weren’t claimed. Tug nodded and spoke to Cassie, who glanced up at Deke. With her hands occupied filling her tank, she nodded and smiled, but Hoss didn’t miss the tension that strained the muscles in her arms. Also didn’t miss the fact that even looking up, she didn’t take that gaze to Deke’s face. Quirks, he remembered and nodded to himself.
Moving off the pump, he staged near the back of the column, waiting for Tug to roll up beside him. With one look the old man knew he had questions because Tug shook his head. “Not now, Prez. Let’s get my girl fed, and make this good for her. We can have a talk later, and you can explain to me how you know her.”
The term “my girl” gave Hoss an unwelcome sway that rattled all through his chest, and he wondered for one ugly minute at his response to Tug’s possessiveness. Then the rest of what Tug said made his head jerk back. Tug wants to grill me about my association with Cassie? “The fuck you say, Tugboat? How the hell do you know her?”
“Long story,” was all he got, and then she had ridden up on the other side of Tug. Leaving the gas station carefully in groups of twos and fours, the columns got on the road again, only to pull into the diner’s lot almost immediately. Cassie followed Tug and Hoss followed Cassie, sandwiching her between them as they parked.
Putting down his kickstand, he swung a leg over and stood, stretching. Hoss yanked off his beanie and shoved his sunglasses to the top of his head. Silently, he looked down at Cassie as she prepared to go inside, fussing with her jacket and gloves, eyes down as she stored things for easy access. Busy work, so she didn’t have to look up and wouldn’t have to meet anyone’s gaze.
Tug leaned in and removed her keys from the ignition. He turned to look up at Hoss, then with a grin, tossed the ring to Hoss who caught them in midair and slipped them into his front pocket. Deep. Cassie’s muffled shout of surprise died in her throat when she looked up at him, and he finally saw in her eyes the recognition he didn’t even know he had been wanting. Fuck. She’d ridden with them, only thinking she knew Tugboat out of more than eighty-five men. Jesus. Rough men, one-percenters all. Brave.
“Mr. Rogers,” she said softly, and then she gave something else he didn’t even know he wanted. A smile so sweet and soft that it nearly took his legs from underneath him. A man would do a lot to be worthy of those, he thought, and he nodded at her, unable for a moment to speak.
“Cassie,” he finally gritted out and if anything that smile became more. Brighter, sunnier. More.
“You remember me,” she cried with soft joy, and that took his legs, too, right before it carried his cock to half-mast. Fuck, he wanted to hear her call out for other reasons now, dark and carnal, taking what he gave her and giving back to him.
“Of course I do, gorgeous.” His voice was lower than he intended, coming out as more of a growl than anything and her eyes widened in surprise. “Told you, gal, my friends call me Hoss.” He felt a presence at his back and knew it was Tug. Hoss was finally able to ask the question that had been battering at him for thirty miles. “How do you know this old reprobate?” He threw an elbow back and caught Tug just under the diaphragm with a hard blow, pulling a loud oof out of him.
“Tug taught me to ride,” she responded, like that answer made any sense at all.
“But how did you meet him?” Hoss pushed, seriously wondering what was going on.
“Well, I bought a bike,” she started, then ducked her chin, a blush creeping up her cheeks. “But I didn’t know how to ride.”
“I did the same thing.” An amused shout came from behind them, and Hoss twisted to see Captain standing there. “I dropped twenty large on a bike and didn’t know the first thing about them. Just knew I wanted to ride.”
�
��Yeah,” she said, “same thing here. Except the price. That much money? That’s crazy.” She laughed softly. “Tug was the one who delivered it, and he made an offer that if I needed anything, I could call. It was a couple weeks later, but I did. And he made good on his promise.” She grinned up at Tug. “Patient is a word I’ve never seen demonstrated before, but I learned the meaning well while watching him deal with me over these past weeks.”
“Weeks?” Captain scoffed. “That’s weak, sister. I learned in three days.” He held up a hand, pointing three fingers at Cassie. “Three days, that’s all it took me.” He gave a fist pump. “Bam. Toasted you. And, I’ve had a ton of concussions.” He pointed those same three fingers at his temple. “Can’t learn anything anymore.” He turned to Hoss, a quizzical look on his face, “Who’re you again?” He grinned. “Plus it was the way to my woman’s heart. Biker chick through and through. Couldn’t woo the woo without the ride, ya know?”
Everyone laughed, as was Captain’s intent. With the attention pulled off her, Cassie stood up and off the bike, stepping closer to Tug, which coincidently put her near Hoss, too. As the men began drifting towards the diner, she leaned over and asked, voice quiet with uncertainty, “Can I sit with you?”
“Sure thing, pretty lady,” Tug said, reaching out and taking her hand in his as Hoss held his breath. He remembered that touch was a trigger for her, but apparently not around Tug, because she folded her fingers around his, holding on tightly as she let him pull her towards the diner.
Just inside the door, Deke stopped Hoss, hand to his chest and they watched Tug walk away, taking Cassie to a booth where he slid in first, letting her take the outside seat. Hoss cut his eyes to Deke, ready for what he thought was coming. He was surprised when instead he got, “PBJ said you might want to split off. I can still take folks to the CHs like we planned. This wasn’t a far detour, Prez.”
Rebel Wayfarers MC Boxset 4 Page 70
