by Lilly Atlas
She laughed. “Yes, there’s that. I suppose that’s always a factor when someone chooses to go into medicine. But I also just like the work. I enjoy the physical act of doctoring along with the puzzle of figuring out what is wrong with someone. Does that make any sense?”
“Absolutely.” He stopped nuzzling her neck, and interlaced the fingers of one hand with hers.
Lila enjoyed his touch more than she should. If she looked too deeply into the meaning, he might stop, so she continued to talk in the hope of prolonging the moment. “Throughout medical school I continued to date the men my parents chose for me. At the time, I had decided that I’d pick one who was tolerable, marry him out of duty, and derive enjoyment from the professional part of my life if not the personal. I didn’t have enough backbone to stand up to my parents. Plus, I felt I owed them for not ruining my plans to go to medical school. Problem was, I just couldn’t imagine myself spending my life with any of the men they chose, even in a platonic sense.”
“No backbone?” Striker interrupted. “I’m having a hard time imagining that, darlin’. You faced down a one percenter president without blinking an eye today.”
His comment brought a smile to her face. “I’ve grown a sturdy one since then, though I was a nervous wreck talking to Shiv. Glad I hid it well.”
“So, what was the tipping point?”
The sunset was amazing, the giant orange orb inched closer and closer to the shimmering water as each minute passed. “I fell for one of the guys they set me up with.”
Striker tensed behind her, his voice a harsh rasp. “Is there some asshole back in DC that thinks he can claim you as his?”
He sounded jealous. Could he be jealous? The thought was thrilling, and Lila squeezed the hand laced with hers. “No. Not just no, but hell no! Aaron and I seemed perfect for each other, complimented each other in every way. He got me, understood my feelings about the world we grew up in, and said all the right things all the time. Looking back on it now I should have suspected something was off by the way it all seemed so effortless.” She paused. The rest of the story was embarrassing. She’d been naïve, and beyond mortified when it all fell apart.
“So what happened?” Striker’s words were spoken softly. He must have realized this part of the tale was difficult for her.
After a fortifying breath, she plowed on. “One day I overheard my father on the phone. Turns out, my boyfriend was the son of Bank of the States’ CEO. He’d been trying to acquire my father’s bank for years. My father expressed interest in running for Governor of Maryland. He decided it was time to sell so he could put all his efforts into the gubernatorial race. This deal will make him tens of billions. He agreed to sell if the CEO agreed to have his son, Aaron, marry me. Can’t run for governor with an unmarried daughter near thirty. How would that look?” She laughed, a mirthless sound. “I was heartbroken and humiliated. Everything about our relationship was a lie, a business deal.”
“Are you fucking serious?” Striker spat out behind her. “What a bunch of fucking motherfuckers.”
Striker’s outrage on her behalf made her laugh, especially the deterioration in his language, which was vulgar on a good day. “I’m very serious. I couldn’t bear to stay, so I tucked my tail between my legs, looked for a job in an off the grid town, and left without a backward glance. They controlled the first part of my life, no way were they taking the rest.”
“I’m surprised your parents haven’t tried to drag your gorgeous ass back to DC.”
Lila flushed at the compliment. “I may have threatened to go to the media if they didn’t let me leave, and promise to stay away.”
“Devious, babe. Think you might need to give me this shithead’s address though.”
She snorted out a laugh. “No way. I can’t afford to have you arrested for murdering him. I do not want to get stuck staying with Jester or Gumby.”
“I have one question you’re not going to like,” he said.
She turned her head up to look at him. The sun had dipped close to the horizon, and the warmth of the day was quickly giving way to the chill of the night. Striker’s strong jaw ticked, hinting at his anger on her behalf. “I already thought about it,” she said, knowing what he was going to ask before he voiced the words. “My parents aren’t above using underhanded tricks to get me back in their web, especially now that the bank merger is basically a done deal. My father will want his picture perfect family intact when he throws his name in the governors’ race. It’s possible they didn’t believe I’d really go to the media, but I was serious, and will do it to protect my independence. Tomorrow I’ll call my father to feel out the situation.”
“I’m ninety-nine percent sure it’s the Grimms, but it wouldn’t hurt to cover all the bases.”
It was becoming difficult to remain unaffected while she sat snuggled between Striker’s muscular thighs. The hand that wasn’t holding hers had slipped down to caress the skin of her belly between the end of the shirt and top of her low-rise jeans. Her nipples pebbled against her bra, and a heavy, achy feeling settled low in her stomach. She hoped Striker’s eyes were closed, and he couldn’t see the affect he was having on her.
Chapter Eleven
Striker felt the moment Lila changed from relaxed and liquid to tense and rigid. He couldn’t prevent his body’s reaction to her. She attracted him on so many levels. The first few times he’d encountered her it was strictly physical, but the more he learned about the independent, compassionate, and intelligent woman who rested between his legs, the stronger the attraction grew.
“Um, Striker—”
“Yeah, I know, hon, just ignore him.”
“Not easy to ignore a baseball bat poking at you,” she muttered under her breath.
He chuckled. “You might as well get used to it, he’s never far away when you’re around.”
Lila tilted her chin, and he looked down at her beautiful face. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she moved back to her own chair, but for some reason she stayed. “Guess we’ll have to get your mind on something else then,” she said. “Your turn to spill all your secrets.”
“What do you want to know?” Striker asked. He stopped moving his hand, and rested it on her stomach, palm down. The silky smooth skin felt warm and soothing under his rough, callused hand.
“Well, to be honest, I’m very curious about how you got involved in the MC. You have to know all the rumors about you guys, and the reputations of clubs like yours are sketchy at best. I guess I just wonder what the draw is for you.”
“You go right for the tough questions, don’t you?” Like her, there were things in his past he preferred not to think about.
“I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer if it’s too personal.”
He lifted the hand that had been holding hers, and tugged at her ponytail. The action brought her face back into a position where he could make eye contact. “No, I promised you I’d open up if you did.” He let out a deep sigh and held her gaze. “I think the story is similar for many of us, at least the abbreviated version. Shitty childhood, not big on following the rules, rebellious, and of course an obsession with motorcycles.”
Lila placed her hand over the one of his that still rested, palm down, against her stomach. She intertwined their fingers and gave a small squeeze. “How shitty?”
“My childhood?” He turned his palm up and linked their fingers once again. It was sweet of her to return the reassuring gesture while he talked. “Less shitty than some, more than most. Grew up in a trailer park, here in town. My old man went to prison when I was ten. He plowed his car through the kitchen of a house somewhere near Vegas after about ten drinks. Killed three of the four people in the family. A few years back I got word he died in prison.”
Lila remained quiet, but tightened her hand in his.
“My mom was a junkie. After the old man went inside, she started disappearing for days, sometimes weeks at a time.” Long buried feelings of abandonment and fear sneaked to the surface.
“Went on that way until I was eighteen, then one time she never came back.”
“God, Striker. I’m so sorry. Here I am complaining about my petty problems.” She shook her head. “How did you survive?”
“Lila, just because our issues are different, doesn’t make yours any less important than mine were.” It didn’t surprise him one bit that she’d try to downplay her own feelings to validate his.
“I had this neighbor, a crotchety old bastard who worked on bikes right there at his trailer.” He laughed as he recalled the redneck garage set up the man had. “He’d give me tasks, let me eat with him when I was done, and threw me a few bucks at the end of each project.”
Lila huffed. “I have a feeling you’re leaving a lot out.”
Striker smiled at her insight. She didn’t need to know how bad things got at times. How desperate he’d been for food or how he’d steal drugs from his mom’s stash and sell them to have money for the next time she split. Pity was the last thing he needed from her.
“So obviously you developed a love of motorcycles. Then what? How’d you get involved with the No Prisoners?”
“Well, there was no way to grow up around here and not be aware of the MC.” Striker paused. He wasn’t used to laying himself bare before anyone, especially a woman. It made him feel vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect, and wasn’t quite sure how to handle.
Accustomed to comforting people, Lila must have sensed his unease. “You can trust me with your story, Striker. I’d never betray your trust by judging what you share with me. And I’d never dream of telling anyone.”
He knew that, but hearing the sincerity of her softly spoken words made him more than willing to share with her. It made him want to share. “The draw was the brotherhood, the family. I think it’s that way for most of us. A lot of the guys are misfits in society, men without roots or kin who are looking for a connection to similar people.”
He quieted and let Lila mull over his words. “I can understand that,” she stated. “I left my family because I didn’t fit, and I wasn’t understood. But after being here for six months, alone, I feel a gap in my life. Until you spoke of your connection to the MC, I hadn’t realized what was lacking for me. But that’s what it is, connection to people, a family. Not that I ever had a strong one, but it was still something. I can see the draw for you. The desire to form bonds with similar people who have similar experiences and values is a strong one. You’re lucky you have people who play that role in your life.”
Striker rested his head back on the lounge chair, and closed his eyes as her words brought him peace. He shouldn’t have been surprised that she understood him. “They are my life. The bond with my brothers is unbreakable. It’s the driving force for all of us.”
He felt her head move against his skin as she nodded, her hair tickled under his chin. “Close your eyes and relax, Lila. Today’s been a crazy day, and I want to take a nap with you here like this while the sun sets.”
Something had shifted between them this evening. Lila was as attracted to him as he was to her. It wasn’t something she hid well. The best thing he could do for both of them would be to stand up and retire to his room, but in this moment he’d rather ride his Harley through a field of broken whisky bottles than walk away from her. Striker felt Lila’s body soften as she dozed off. He opened his eyes in time to see the sun dip below the horizon before he allowed them to drift closed again. Sleep was not far behind.
The next morning, after a night of tossing and turning, wondering what Striker was doing in the room across the hall, Lila sat on the bed and stared at her phone. She’d plotted out multiple iterations of what she planned to say to her father, and finally felt prepared to make the call.
She and Striker had dozed on the deck, wrapped up in each other, for about an hour before waking up chilled and hungry. Striker grilled some steaks, and Lila had fixed a salad and potatoes. Since the evening had cooled considerably, they ate inside. The meal was eaten in companionable silence, but once it was finished Lila grew nervous and uncertain of what to do next. It was the coward’s way out, but she had fled to her room, pleading fatigue.
Now she sat and stared at the phone as though it was rattlesnake poised to attack. Striker was at the garage working on a custom build. He’d offered to take her along, but she declined, needing to take care of this call. Striker promised he would only be away a few hours, and a prospect watching TV in the living room was assigned the boring task of babysitting.
Okay, enough stalling. Lila rolled her eyes at her own spinelessness, picked up the phone and located her father’s cell number in her contacts.
He answered on the third ring.
“Lila. Have you come to your senses yet?”
Well hello to you too, Dad. Lila held the phone away from her ear, and stuck her tongue out at it. The childish gesture made her feel marginally better. “Hi, Dad. How are you? How’s mom?” There wasn’t any point in engaging in a battle right from the start. The decision to move away from home had been difficult for Lila’s mother to accept, and while she was just as guilty as the wannabe governor in Lila’s eyes, she had a bit of a softer spot for her mother.
“We are fine, Lila. I assume there is a purpose for this unexpected phone call beyond your inquiry into our wellbeing. I know you have a busy schedule, what with all the riding on backs of motorcycles you’ve been doing lately, so let’s skip the small talk.”
He knew. Lila’s stomach sank. Could he be responsible for the text messages and the incident yesterday? Would he stoop so low as to hire a thug to frighten his daughter into running back to the fold? “You’re having me watched?” She worked to keep her voice level, and free from anger.
“Of course I’m keeping track of you, Lila. You made a lot of angry threats during your tantrum before you left, and I have too much at stake right now to leave loose ends.”
She ignored his digs. Telling her she threw a tantrum and calling her a loose end was his method of goading an outraged response from her. There was no way she would give him the satisfaction of an emotional outburst. “Is that all you’re doing?”
“What do you mean?” he sighed, the sound full of frustration and impatience.
Here’s where it got tricky. She couldn’t admit to the texts and car incident or he would flip out and probably send in the National Guard. Not in a concerned parent way, but because he couldn’t have any unfinished business so close to the merger, as he said. She chose her words with care. “You admitted you have someone keeping tabs on me, are they assigned to pressure me into returning to Washington as well? Should I expect some subtle maneuvering in that direction? Because I believe I made myself perfectly clear before I left. I have no qualms about going to the media with the Aaron incident, and can add to my list of grievances if necessary.”
Her father chuckled, and Lila clenched her teeth to hold the nasty words inside her mouth. “No, Lila, contrary to what you might think, I quite believed you when you made your threat. You are very much like me in that respect; you’ll do whatever is necessary to get your way. I have someone keeping me updated as to your goings on every so often and that’s all. I need to be certain you haven’t engaged in anything that will sabotage this deal and my campaign for governor. But really, Lila, bikers? Is this some kind of post adolescent rebellion?”
“Call off your dog,” she spat out. “If I wanted you to know details of my life I’d give them to you myself. Since this is the first call in six months, you should be catching on that I don’t want you to know those specifics. I’ll stay away from your campaign if you stay out of my life. That’s been the arrangement all along.”
“Be careful, Lila,” he warned, his voice so cold she was surprised her phone still felt warm in her hand. “A few well-placed calls to the FBI, and I can have your new friend’s whole world turned upside down.”
She gripped the phone until her knuckles turned white as resentment surged. In that instant, she was certain her father wasn’t responsible for
the threat against her. It wasn’t his style. He was much more likely to make a call to the FBI, and have the No Prisoners investigated from now until kingdom come, something Lila refused to allow. “You be careful as well,” she said, her voice equally icy. “I can destroy your chance to be governor with just one well-timed interview.”
There was silence on the other end. Good. Let him chew on that for a while.
“I trust by your silence you are aware that I’m serious, and this isn’t an idle threat. I believe we have an understanding. Call off your man, immediately.”
“You don’t give me orders, child. You’ll come crawling back on your own once your new biker friend fucks you over, until then I need to be sure your foolishness won’t harm the family.”
With that parting shot he ended the call, and left Lila fuming on the bed. Damn him, having to get the last word. Her hands trembled as she dropped the phone to the bed. Well, she’d set out to discover if he was the one behind the texts, and was confident he wasn’t, which was a relief. Although, that meant it was most certainly the Grimm Brothers, and that was not a comforting thought.
Chapter Twelve
“Fucking piece of shit. How the hell am I supposed to get this garbage looking like new when the owner obviously didn’t take care of it, and it’s in worse goddam shape than they told me?” Striker slammed the wrench he’d been working with into a toolbox, as he complained to no one in particular.
“Hey, Striker, how’s that custom rebuild coming along?” Jester asked him, his tone overly cheerful.
“Eat shit, asshole.”
They guys in the garage cracked up. Striker was in a piss poor mood. Lila had been living under his roof for three days, and his dick had been rock hard since she stepped foot in his house. He was going out of his mind, and something had to give soon. His hand wasn’t cutting it anymore. Last night, he’d gone so far as to agree to go with his brothers to Black’s for an afterhours party, complete with strippers. One of the girls there would have taken care of him, but he’d begged off at the last minute. It seemed his dick wasn’t going to be happy until it found its way inside Lila.
