Take the Honey and Run: Sweet & Dirty BBW MC Romance, Book #6 (Sweet&Dirty BBW MC Romance)

by Cathryn Cade

  "We got plenty of women who show up here to party, who wanna fuck a biker, walk on the wild side. That really what you wanna be—club pussy? 'Cause we might fuck 'em, or accept a blow job from 'em... but we don't necessarily respect 'em."

  She flinched at this blow, and then she stiffened, giving him a hot glare. "So if we're not 'going steady', I get no respect from you or any of your brothers, is that it? Well gee, thanks for the lovely offer, but I'll pass. I've had it up to here with men disrespecting me." She drew her hand across in front of her throat.

  He scowled right back. "Think I made it pretty clear I want more than that, woman. Want you to belong to me." Or he had, till she threw this shit at him.

  Manda threw up her hands. "And I'm saying we should slow things down, be a little careful. We can have good times, and—and get to know each other better without being zip-tied together."

  T couldn't believe how fast everything was going to hell. He shook his head slowly, the hollow feeling inside him growing until it took all his energy to remain upright.

  "I've had me plenty of no-ties fun," he said. "I want more'n that. You don't even wanna try, that's your choice. Guess I'll see you around."

  CHAPTER FORTY

  * * *

  T-Bear stared at Manda, his beautiful eyes flat and shadowed in his hard face. Like she was a stranger, and one he was done with.

  Ooooh, he was so stubborn. Like a big old bear refusing to let go of honey, even though he was being strung by the bees it belonged to.

  Words beat at the back of Manda's throat, and she rocked onto her toes, full of the urge to run to him, grab his arm and beg him not to go, to give them a chance. A chance to go slow, and see if they could make it work, but at a cautious pace.

  He’d called her his honey girl. But now, it seemed that if he couldn’t have the whole honeycomb, he didn’t want any.

  But as she fumbled for the right words, the ones that would show him she was right, that they should go on as they had been, he shook his head like he was done, and turned away.

  "Door's behind you," he muttered. "Reckon you can find your way back to your own bed."

  As she reeled from these words, so cold and callous she wouldn't have believed them possible from his mouth, he stalked into his tiny bathroom. The door slammed behind him, leaving her alone, her resolve and her heart crumbling in her chest.

  Then she picked up her clothing and her shoes and ran back to the room next door and locked the door behind her. Diving into her borrowed bed, she buried her face and wept silently until the pillow was wet with her tears, and her heart was dry as a discarded bone.

  Why did he have to be so darn stubborn—why couldn't there be some middle ground where they could be together but be their own selves too? She guessed bad-ass daddy bikers didn't 'date'. They either participated in all-out fucking or said 'So long'.

  Fine then. He wasn't the only one who could walk away. And she'd go a lot farther than the room next door.

  She intended to be a strong, independent woman, and live life on her terms. No time like the present to get started on that. And whether T-Bear Turner knew it or not, he'd just handed her an engraved invitation to do that.

  When she was strong and steady, when she had some money in the bank and her self-respect firmly in hand… then maybe she'd let a man into her life, not before.

  Only, if she was doing the right thing, why did it hurt so badly?

  * * *

  His mood blacker than his motorcycle boots, T-Bear waited only till the door of his room shut behind Manda.

  Then he came out of the bathroom, yanked on a pair of jeans and a dirty shirt, and stomped into the club room, where he grabbed a bottle of whiskey from behind the bar. Not bothering with the niceties of a shot glass, he yanked the top off and tipped the bottle to his lips. The liquor burned like fire going down, and settled like coals in his stomach.

  He tipped the bottle down with a grimace, to find Bouncer sitting at the bar, a shot glass halfway to his mouth, watching him. The only others there were Rocker and Billie, playing a game of pool on the far side of the room while Snake and Darlene watched and shared a joint.

  Although now they were all watching T. He ignored them, and took another swig of whiskey.

  Bouncer shook his head, downed his shot, and belched. "You ain't drinkin' that like it's love potion number nine, so I'm guessin' all ain't well in the honey pot."

  T tipped the bottle up again, and downed two more big swallows. "You could say that."

  Bouncer snorted, and poured himself another shot. "Bitches—ain't worth the trouble. Can't trust 'em, they just want your money and your dick, but soon as someone else comes along they're off on the hunt. Can't be faithful for no longer'n it takes another sucker to show up."

  Never mind Bouncer had never been faithful to a woman in his life as far as T knew, but that wasn't none of his business.

  And he didn't give a shit, anyways. He just wanted to down enough Jack to heat up the icy cavern in his chest, and then maybe keep on drinking until he couldn't remember the look on her face when he'd offered to get a place for them to be together. Fuck, she'd shied away faster'n if he'd tossed a grenade her way.

  "Don't need her anyways," he muttered, sinking onto a barstool, the bottle in his hand, his head swimming. "Don't need nobody but me and my brothers."

  "That's right," Bouncer approved, slamming his fist on the bar and making the glassware rattle. "Fuck 'em and get shut of 'em." He heaved himself from his barstool and headed off for the john.

  Rocker appeared at T's elbow, and eased the bottle from his hand, taking a drink and then leaning his elbows on the bar, peering into T's face.

  "You and Manda have words?" he asked.

  "Fuck, yeah," T agreed, reaching for the bottle. "She used her words, aw' right. Told me she wantsa be 'friends'. What the fuck?" He took another drink and waved the bottle, splashing whiskey on his arm and the bar. "Bounce's right. Bitches 'r more trouble 'n they're worth."

  Rocker snagged the bottle. "Bro, you sure you wanna take advice on women from Bounce, here? He ain't exactly Dr Phil. Maybe talk to me and Billie instead?"

  Billie eased onto the bar stool on T's other side, her hand on his shoulder. "Yeah, big guy. What's going on? Maybe we can help?"

  T shook his head. "Nope. I'm done. She dun't wanna be with me, she don't gotta."

  Billie gasped. "What? She dumped you?" she demanded, her voice rising.

  "Whoa, babe," Rocker advised quietly. "Let's get the facts."

  "No, it's true," T mourned. "She did it the worst way, too. Tol' me she wantsa be friends. What the fuck? We gonna do each other's nails an' shit?"

  Billie opened her mouth, but this time Rocker cut in, his voice hard. "She gave you that line? Fuck me."

  "Well, maybe she meant—" Billie began.

  T and Rocker shook their heads in unison. "Only one thing a bitch means when she says that," Rocker said. "An' it ain't good for the guy."

  "I guess," Billie said, and patted T's back. "I'm sorry, T. I thought... well. Never mind that now."

  Rocker took a drink from the bottle and handed it back to T. "Gives me no pleasure to say I was right about her all along." He gave T's shoulder a hard squeeze. "Here if you need me, brother. Anytime."

  "Thanks." T mumbled.

  The pair left quietly. Suddenly unable to bear the quiet club house anymore, T slid off his bar stool and headed for the back doors. He found his way outside into the quiet, cool night, and took the bottle with him.

  He sat outside, finished the bottle, and had all the peace and quiet a pissed-off, broken-hearted biker could desire.

  Didn't help.

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  * * *

  Monday morning, it took all of Manda's courage to emerge from her borrowed room. When she walked into the kitchen, thank baby Jesus, T-Bear and Moke weren't there.

  But Sara and Billie were.

  Both looked as if they'd just walked out of a fashion shoot for bi
ker chic. Billie wore a purple sweater with a deep cowl and flutter sleeves over olive skinny jeans and boots the burnished dark ash-blonde of her hair, which was in long curls. Sara was cool perfection in a pale gray tunic with peekaboo shoulders and matching leggings over red flats that matched her nails and lips.

  Sara watched Manda walk into the kitchen, her gaze as chilly as the frost on the grass outside. Billie looked troubled, but said nothing.

  Manda nearly turned and ran. Her empty stomach twisted and her headache, caused by crying half the night, jacked up ferociously, as if a vice had been tightened around her temples.

  She looked from the Flyers’ first old lady to the coffee pot and back. "Do you mind if I have cup of coffee?"

  Sara tipped her head, her pale blonde waves of hair stirring elegantly. "Help yourself."

  Billie said nothing until Manda filled a mug and turned to face them. Then she shook her head.

  "I don't get it," she said. "T-Bear is a great guy, and you two seemed to really hit it off. Why would you... push him away like that?"

  Manda opened her mouth to explain, and then closed it, clutching her mug with both hands. She wasn’t sure if she could talk without crying.

  Except, she had to. Billie had been nothing but kind to her, as had her sister Lesa. Manda was not going to walk out of here with them thinking she was some kind of heartless bitch. If this was her one chance to explain, she had to take it.

  She owed it to herself. To the new, stronger Manda.

  She walked to the table, and sat across from them. Sara’s gaze was like Stick’s, too chilly to meet, so Manda focused on Billie.

  “It’s kind of a mess,” Manda said, clutching her coffee mug, warm in her cold hands. “It happened so fast…”

  Billie leaned forward, her gaze softening. “It’s okay, hon. Just tell us.”

  So Manda told them. She told them about meeting T that first night, and how she’d fallen into bed with him, thinking it was a date.

  How he’d rescued her from Rezan’s betrayal, then persuaded her to come here from the hospital, promising to keep her safe.

  How he’d taken her to JJ’s, where she’d found a way to help him at least a little.

  And how their sexual relationship had grown to a level of heat and intimacy Manda had never experienced, or even hoped to experience.

  “And then last night,” she said, her coffee cup blurring as she gazed at it. “He said… we should move in together. And I… it’s just too fast. I just can’t.”

  “Not after what happened with your ex, hmm?” Billie asked.

  Manda nodded. “Right. And despite all that’s happened, T and I have only known each other ten days. But I… I hurt him and now I feel terrible. Like a total bitch, because who turns down the chance to be with him? The sweetest, sexiest, bravest guy ever.”

  When the two women were silent, she looked up to find them gazing at her, different versions of the same rueful, amused smile.

  Sara sighed. “Okay. Glad we got that cleared up. Here’s what I think you should do. Move out, because… well, awkward, right? The Heights Motel rents rooms by the week. It’s central, clean, safe and cheap. If you need a ride, we'll make that happen."

  Manda looked up at this. "Okay, thank you. I’ll do that.”

  Billie smiled at her. “And, I know things seem black right now, but give it time. T may be impulsive, but he’s not one to hold a grudge, especially when he’s into you the way we’ve seen.”

  "I hope so," Manda managed, her voice thick with tears. "I… I don’t want to lose him from my life. But right now, I need to get a job, and some money. I'll pay you back for the clothes and stuff."

  Then a horrible thought hit her. “Oh, my God. And the hospital bill. I owe for that too.”

  Sara’s eyes widened. “You do? Who paid that?”

  Manda’s eyes filled with tears again. “T-Bear. But he can’t afford that, not if he and Moke are going to buy JJ’s Auto. So I have to pay him back as quickly as I can.”

  Billie winced. “Okay, but don’t, ah, do anything crazy to make the money, right?”

  Manda shook her head and wiped her wet cheeks. “Shyeah, no. Don’t worry, I’m not gonna go whore myself or something. Been there, done that, don’t want the tee-shirt.”

  Billie snickered. “Sorry, but T’s right. You are funny.”

  Manda drained her coffee cup, and set it down. “Awesome—maybe I can be the comedienne barista, and make lots of tips.”

  Sara chuckled. “You just might.”

  Billie tapped her hands on the table. “So, Manda, you want breakfast?”

  Manda shook her head. “No, I don’t think I could eat.”

  “Okay, then here’s what we’re going to do…”

  Back in the room that had been hers, Manda showered and dressed while Billie stripped the bed. They both cleaned the room, got the clean sheets and towels from the dryer, and remade the bed.

  When the bathroom was scrubbed clean, the floor mopped and every other surface dusted and wiped down, Billie helped Manda carry her things outside.

  Outside, it was a lovely, warm day. The compound was quiet, all the Flyers seemingly gone.

  Fine, then.

  Manda might long for one last glimpse of T-Bear, but it was better that he was not there. She couldn’t have born another dark, cold look from him.

  From the clubhouse parking lot, Manda could see the main road through Airway Heights. “I can walk to the motel.”

  Billie gave her a look. “I don’t think so. You may be moving out of the clubhouse, but you’re not leaving the Flyer family. We women have to look out for each other, even when our men are being bull-headed biker men.”

  So, Manda climbed into Billie’s SUV, and was ferried to her new ‘home’ in style.

  And before Billie drove away, she made sure Manda had in her contacts Billie, Lesa, Sara and Velvet. “Because she really likes you, and if you need something and don’t call her, she’ll be pissed.”

  The Heights Motel was a small, one-story motel on the south side of the main drag through town. The office was on the end, with the rooms laid out in a straight line from there. As covered walkway in front had been enclosed, creating an indoor hallway.

  A small, thin woman with silver hair poked her head out of a sitting room behind the office. She looked Manda over with interest. "Be right with you, hon." She said something to someone behind the door and then came to stand behind the high counter. "Now, how can I help you?"

  "I need a room," Manda said. "For a week?"

  The woman nodded. "Okay. Cash up front, I'm afraid. Had some rent-and-runs lately."

  "How much?" Manda asked, tensing.

  "Well... how 'bout ten a night?"

  Manda blinked. That seemed really, really cheap to her. But then again, she wasn't about to argue—unless the rooms were dumps, or something.

  "Rooms are clean and in good repair, bedding and towels are furnished, you can cook in the microwave, and there's a dorm-size fridge," the woman told her. "I'll just need to see your driver's license, and a vehicle license number if you have one."

  Manda tensed even more. "I don't have a driver's license. It was stolen, along with my purse and, uh, all my luggage."

  "Oh, hon," the woman said. "That's terrible. You get anything back?"

  Manda flushed. "No. But... I have money." She held out one of the hundred dollar bills T-Bear had given her. "And I can pay ahead every week." If she got a job. If she didn't, she was in deep trouble, any way you looked at it.

  "Okay. So, what's your name?"

  "Manda, I mean Amanda Kowitsky."

  The woman chuckled. "Amanda, huh? I'm Wanda."

  Her smile was infectious, and Manda found herself smiling back. "All the awesome names end with -anda, right?"

  "Right." Wanda handed Manda a brief registration form, took her phone number, and handed over a room key. "Okay, hon, welcome to the Heights Motel. Grocery store's a block that way, and you've already seen the lit
tle cafe's and fast food places around us. Got any questions, give me a holler, I'm generally here or my granddaughter is."

  "Thank you."

  "And you need any help getting that new license and your other id, you let me know, okay?" Wanda offered. "I know people at city hall, the police station and the sheriff's office. One way or another, we'll get you sorted."

  Manda's eyes stung at this warm offer. "Thanks again." She smiled at the small woman, and followed her directions through a covered walkway along the front of the building to Room 2.

  To her relief, although the carpet and furnishings were a bit worn, they were immaculate, and the bathroom smelled faintly of chlorine, nothing more. Manda set her bags down, and then, without giving herself time to think or worry, she combed her hair, checked her makeup, and set off for the Flying Bean coffee stand to apply for a position as a barista.

  An hour later, she had a job.

  She celebrated her good fortune by walking to the grocery store where only days before, she'd purchased the ingredients to make cookies for T and the guys.

  This time, she bought a salad, ready-made turkey sandwich and carton of deli soup. She added a small box of bargain chardonnay, a banana and muffin for breakfast, and carried her purchases back to the motel.

  She poured herself some wine in the plastic bathroom glass provided with her room, sat cross-legged on the bed, and called her best friend, so she wouldn't have to celebrate her independence alone.

  "Hi," she chirped when Chloe answered her phone. "Great news. I have a job, and a new place to stay."

  There was a short silence. "Really?" Chloe asked, her voice hesitant. "That's... that's good, right?"

  "You bet," Manda agreed. She took a drink of wine, and made a face. It tasted exactly like bargain wine.

  "Okay," Chloe said. "But... are you sure you're okay?"

  "Why do you keep asking me that?" Manda laughed. "I did what you suggested, and it's all good. I start work tomorrow morning—training, that is. Have to learn how to run the coffee machines, and all that."

  "Right," her friend agreed. "You just sound... weird. And I think maybe I was too pushy. That you were in a good place and I—"