Her eyes were still wary, but she dipped her head. “Deal.”
“Good. Let’s go for a ride,” he suggested. “I’m stir crazy. We’ve both been cooped up, might do us some good to get out of this place for a while. We could take in the view. Maybe get a bite.”
She hesitated.
“We could stop at a gun store,” he bribed. “I know how you love those. He felt the need for alone time with Daisy. Away from the strip club, away from Hell, and most definitely away from Voodoo.
“Okay.” Not exactly eager, but he’d gotten his way, so he’d call it a win.
He gave Voo a shit eating grin over his shoulder. “We’re going out. Don’t wait up, brother.”
His brother shrugged.
“Okay. I got a few road rules for you,” Cowboy informed her. “Wear your helmet at all times. Hold on to me tight, keep your mouth closed or a bug will fly in.” He grinned at the horror on her face. “Oh, and the club has a tradition. Girls pay a toll to ride on the bike.”’
“What sort of toll?”
“Your panties.”
She gaped at him. “You must be joking.”
“Nope. Chicks don’t ride for free. We take your panties and they get added to a clothesline at Perdition.”
“When Duke took me home, he didn’t ask for my panties,” she protested.
“That’s because he knows I would have decked him,” Cowboy said smugly. “So, come on, show me what you got.”
Women usually hemmed and hawed, put up a protest. But not his girl.
“You want my panties? Fine.” She smirked at him and undid her jeans, letting them drop to the ground in front of God and country.
Voodoo watched with curious eyes and Cowboy jumped in front of her, so his brother didn’t get a free show.
“Holy shit. I didn’t mean here. She could be fucking fearless at times.
“Told you, no shyness left.” She hooked her thumbs in the black underwear and slid them down her legs, then quickly hitched her britches up once more.
With a wicked grin, she tossed the panties at him, hitting him square in the face. He noted the white skulls printed on the cotton fabric, absolutely fuckin’ adorable. No way, was he handing these over to his brothers. They’d be coming home with him.
He smacked her little ass, and deposited her on the bike.
***
Ten minutes into the bike ride, Daisy decided she needed to buy a motorcycle. This was so much better than the ride with Duke! She’d never felt so free in her life, the wind rippling over her skin, the way the bike hugged the road. She leaned into the curves, as he drove, her body moving along with the machine, almost like a dance.
She found it hard to keep her hands from wandering over Cowboy, exploring his body as he drove. She didn’t even care where they were going exactly and it felt good to be free for a bit, to let her cares fall by the wayside for just an hour or two, if only to keep her own sanity. She’d been wound up for months, maybe years, and stress seemed to leech out at the worst possible moment.
She leaned back, and let out a whoop, making him laugh. They rode for a couple of more hours, stopping to see the sites along the way, a park, a gun store where they both looked, but didn’t buy anything, and even stopped at a Harley shop where he ogled all of the bikes.
Finally, they stopped at a roadside area with a Mexican cantina to grab a bite and stretch their legs a bit. He ordered a beef burrito and she got some guacamole with chips, and an apple empanada for dessert.
They found a picnic table in the shade and she’d barely started in on her chips, when he asked her a question.
“So why haven’t you ever slept beside someone?” he asked, and then casually took a sip of his iced tea, acting like he hadn’t just sucker punched her with a personal question.
She didn’t really want to delve into her relationship baggage at the moment. She had more than enough to worry about without slogging through emotional crap she couldn’t deal with.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “My teenage years were a mess, with the foster home situation. Then, I went into the military, and off to a war zone. Not like it lent itself to dating.”
“Oh?”
Oh, Jesus. She sighed. “I was stationed overseas in Afghanistan, going through some really stressful shit on a daily basis. We were all lonely, far from home and sometimes we comforted each other.”
He slouched down in his seat, didn’t meet her eyes. “Oh, I bet they lined up to offer you comfort alright.” She thought she heard him mutter dickheads under his breath.
There hadn’t been that many. For God sake, she had a war to fight, it’s not like she spent all her time on her back. Her memory of Afghanistan seemed disjointed anyway, surreal in a way. Even the sex she’d had. She hadn’t had any feelings for the guys. Not that she’d ever been particularly attached to the boys in high school either.
She’d tossed away her virginity like a discarding an empty candy bar wrapper. Her date, Mark, had been in her English lit class and they’d gotten along pretty well. They’d gone for a burger once or twice after school, but it hadn’t been any big romance. As a rule, she didn’t get close to people, other than Rose and their mother before she died. She’d even held Nancy at a distance.
There was probably some big psychological syndrome for it, but after her mom’s death, she’d simply just didn’t want to go through the pain again. If you need people, let them in, you eventually end up alone and lost. You’re much better off, to keep people at a distance. Sunny had stupidly fallen in love with her pimp, and it ended up killing her in the end. She’d never let a man make her so weak.
“I might be the only person on the planet who thinks this way, but love is a curse, not a blessing,” she said finally. “When you lose it, you’re hurt and vulnerable. And when you do have it, it leads you to make terrible decisions. I’m better off without it. Love makes you weak, foolish.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” he said softly.
She didn’t believe a word of it, but she didn’t argue with him. She cleared her throat. “My point is, I’ve had sex with men, but I don’t date. It helped me cope in Afghanistan. It allowed me to escape the madness.” She shuddered.
“I’m not really explaining it well. I’m pretty sure only another Marine can really understand me. We’ve had the same experiences, been through the same crap together.”
“You think I don’t understand you?” he asked.
She looked past him, studied families sitting at picnic tables with chubby-cheeked children, munching away on food. It all seemed so blissfully normal. She’d made it back, but sometimes, she felt like a small part of her had stayed behind in the desert. Sometimes, if she lingered on memories from those days, she went right back there again, standing on the burning sand, the smell of smoke in the air. Daisy usually tried not to think about it.
“I don’t even know why we are talking about this.” No sense in poking at old wounds.
“But you wouldn’t even consider dating me, right? If we were in a different situation and you actually had the urge to go out with someone? I’m not a Marine and for some reason, you think they are better than other men.”
“I wouldn’t say better, just different,” she hedged. Truthfully, she couldn’t make a value judgment, but she did see a difference between military and civilians. She served with amazing men and women, selfless people who sacrificed their lives for their country.
“Tell it to me straight, Wildcat. No bullshit.”
“There are civilians and then there are Marines. We are a breed apart.” She made a face. Impossible, but she felt claustrophobic at a picnic table in the middle of a wide open field.
“Are you tryin’ to tell me we’re apples and oranges?” he mocked.
She shook her head. “Not even close. More like apples and avocados,” she said, staring at her food. “Not alike at all, in any way, shape or form.”
“I see and you just love avocados,” he said, point
ed to her guacamole.
She raised a brow. Wasn’t this supposed to be a fun outing? “Actually, you are the avocado.”
He frowned, eyebrows drawing. “No, I’m the apple. Marines wear a lot of green, like avocados.”
“Marines are apples.” She raised her empanada. “Think about the metaphor,” she explained. “They are all American, boy next door types. Mom and apple pie and all that patriotic stuff. You are the one who is a bit different. Bikers are rebels, like avocados.”
“No, I’m an apple,” he insisted. “In fact, I think you and I are both fuckin’ apples. What’s more American than a biker?”
They were apparently having some sort of twisted form of relationship argument using produce as a metaphor. Bizarre. She couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Clearly, a Marine. Um, hello, it doesn’t get more authentic than fighting for your country.”
“I’m not some slimy avocado,” he bitched.
She looked him up and down. “Hey, don’t knock it. I like avocados, especially in guacamole, sometimes a girl wants something spicy.”
A reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “That so?”
She bit her lower lip. “In fact, there are times I want a whole bowlful of guacamole.” Then, she brought an overloaded chip to her mouth and bit down.
Cowboy just grinned
Chapter Sixteen
Later, they pulled up to Perdition, the Four Horsemen’s clubhouse. Dozens of motorcycles crowded into the parking lot. After they pulled into a spot, she saw Pretty Boy scrubbing down bikes. He’d stripped down to the waist and had two big buckets of soapy water, sponges, and a hose.
The prospect strolled over and she couldn’t help but flash back to his sexy dance the other night. If the whole prospecting thing didn’t work out, he could always work for Chippendales.
“Hi, Daisy,” he said, offering a smile. Then, he glanced down at the pendant Cowboy had given her and his eyes widened.
“Sounds like you need a refresher on your club commandments,” Cowboy said quietly.
She blinked. “Club commandments?” She had the feeling some seriously fucked up shit was afoot.
“The club’s bylaws,” Cowboy explained.
Pretty Boy’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. “Sorry about that.”
“Hey, Pretty Boy,” she said, holding out a hand to him. “It’s good to see you.”
But instead of shaking it, he glanced at Cowboy. She waved a hand in front of the prospect’s face. “Why are you looking at him? I’m the one who offered you my hand.”
Cowboy answered for the younger man. “He knows better than to touch somethin’ that belongs to another man.”
What the hell? She whirled to face him.
Evidently, he read the question in her eyes. “You are wearing my pendant, and it means something in my world.”
She opened her mouth to argue with him, but his look silenced her, temporarily at least. She got the impression he didn’t want to hash this out in front of the prospect. Like it was an honor thin? She understood. Commanding officers didn’t argue with a colleague in front of recruits. But they would be having it out later and it wouldn’t be pretty.
“Enough small talk,” he barked. “Get back to work.” Pretty Boy rushed off, obediently picking up a sponge, not even questioning Cowboy’s authority.
Damn. He’d have made a good drill sergeant.
He strutted to the door and she followed, but couldn’t resist a glance over her shoulder, taken in by the sight of Pretty Boy bent over and scouring. She always appreciated male beauty, in all its forms.
Cowboy put his arm around her shoulder and whispered to her, “Put your eyes back in your head, woman. He’s just a boy.”
“He’s in his twenties,” she contradicted, just to piss him off.
“Like I said, a boy.” He tugged her along.
Once inside, he turned to face her. “I know you are pissed, but you don’t know the rules around here.” He took her by the shoulders, stared down into her eyes, pinning them. “You need to follow my lead today.”
“You’ve met me, right?”
His face had settled into fierce lines. “Remember when I said bikers are all about respect?”
She nodded.
“I brought you to the club’s attention so I’m responsible for you and while you are carrying out club business you are also under my authority. We established that the first day in your hotel room.”
She dipped her head. She vaguely remembered something about him vouching for her to Shepherd and Captain.
“Or do you want to be a hellion, just another piece of ass?” he asked, eyes flashing.
Point taken. She’d had enough of that crap at the Pussycat. She certainly didn’t need it at Perdition “Anyone ever tell you bikers are a bunch of misogynistic assholes?” she grouched.
He laughed. “All the fucking time, Wildcat, still doesn’t change the lay of the land. What you do here today reflects on me. So do what you’re told and we’ll get along fine.”
She’d never seen him this demanding, and oddly enough she found it attractive. “Thought we were just havin’ fun.”
“We are having fun, structured fun, which means I ain’t sharin’ you with any of my brothers, let alone a fuckin’ prospect. There is no halfway bullshit with bikers when it comes to women. You can be a hellion, available to the masses, or available to only one man. Got it?”
His statement was wrong on so many levels, yet it made her breath catch. She quickly shook it off. “Yeah, yeah, I got it. You’re a big bad biker man and you own women the way you would a laptop or a motorcycle.”
“Hardly. I wouldn’t die to protect some electronics or my ride.”
“What?”
He lifted her chin so she met his eyes. “When a woman becomes your old lady, her life becomes more important than your own. You would anything to keep her safe.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat.
Her world had shifted the tiniest bit. Being willing to die for someone was about as Marine-ish as it got, and she wondered, just for a minute, what it might be like to be his old lady.
They stared at one another, so many things between them. Lust, to be certain. He often stared at her like he wanted to drag her into a darkened corner and fuck the living daylights out of her. But something more as well. Something, tender that she couldn’t quite define.
He broke the tension by lifting a teasing brow. “Who’s guacamole now?”
She laughed.
He offered her a hand. “Now come on, I want to show you around.”
Perdition looked like a biker's paradise, testosterone being the major theme. He gave her the grand tour, taking her down the hallway behind the bar, passed the boardroom the club held meetings in, and dozens of rooms which lined the hallways, one of them had been left ajar and she could see a queen-sized bed inside. Evidently, the guys sometimes bunked here. At the end of the hall, were two double doors and inside, the mother of all man caves.
Cowboy called it the pinball room, and it had several big screen televisions, all tuned to various channels men might like: NASCAR, rodeo tournaments, and ESPN. There were also a couple of pinball machines along the wall, gaming systems like XBOX and Playstation. Lots of booze too, but it all seemed to all be hard liquor: Jack, Johnny, and Jim.
In the main bar area, a couple of motorcycles hung from the ceilings by sturdy chains. Think on Your Sins had been painted in blood red on the wall. She assumed it was some sort of club motto, along the lines of the Marine’s Semper Fi.
There were biker babe posters too and she also noticed the long line of lacy panties running along the walls. Evidently, Cowboy hadn’t been kidding.
She got to see some hellions firsthand, as well. But unlike the Pussycat, they weren’t dressed in some slutty uniform, and none of them appeared to be drugged. Apparently, they dressed in whatever attire they pleased and she didn’t see a stripper pole in sight.
She didn’t kn
ow exactly what she’d been expecting from the Horsemen clubhouse, but it had a warm, comforting vibe to it, a lot like the Hades Motel. After spending so much time in the pornified Raptors clubhouse, Perdition was a welcome change of pace. The Horsemen seemed like basically good people, even if they lived a bit outside the lines of the law.
“So what do you think?” he asked proudly.
She nodded as she gave the place another once over. “I like it, very homey, even though it’s a bit frat boy for my taste.”
He snorted. “Frat boys wish they were this cool.”
At the bar, several brothers drank, idly watching Texas A&M play football on the a big screen they’d hooked up out front. She recognized Voodoo and Shepherd, as well as Captain and Steele. Ryker parked himself at the opposite end of the bar, and Goat sat down beside Cowboy, but she hadn’t seen the others before. All of them, hot, though. Made her think the Raptors all got thwacked by ugly sticks as children.
“Who’s the chick?” Goat asked Cowboy. “Saw her at Eddie’s the other day too.”
“Chick has a name,” she said in a chilly tone. “I’m Daisy. And you must be Goat?”
“Yeah,” he said with a grunt.
“She’s with me,” Cowboy said.
Cowboy and Goat nodded at each other, having a silent conversation of sorts. She could almost hear it in her head: Does that filly belong to you? Yep, she’s my little lady.
She shook her head.
“Can I get you somethin’?” Fetch asked, from behind the bar. Thank God, she could use a drink.
Cowboy answered for her. “Pull us two beers.”
Shepherd pulled up a stool. “How’s it going at the strip joint?” he asked.
“Nothing new,” she answered. “We still haven’t gotten the brothel’s location.”
“Keep at it.”
Cowboy shot a glance at Eddie and Elizabeth, who were seated at the other side of the bar. “Why don’t you go say hi to the old ladies?” he suggested. “We have some other club business to discuss.”
Hot as Hades (Four Horsemen MC Book 2) Page 16
