by Amber Morgan
She slid up beside him, giving him an anxious smile, and mumbled a thanks to Mia.
"Stop saying thank you," Mia said, handing her a cup of coffee. "Now, I think you need something a little more filling than a slice of pie. Go take a seat and I'll rustle up some burgers for you guys."
Tanner grinned at Mia, grateful for her take-charge kindness. There was more than one reason some of his brothers panted after her. A hot body was one thing, but a woman who would feed you too? She was a keeper.
"Come on," he said to Bethany, resisting the urge to put his arm round her waist and guide her to a booth. "Some men would fucking kill for one of Mia's burgers."
Seated at the booth, she stared into her coffee in silence. Tanner hated silence. "So you wanna tell me who you're running from?"
She looked at him with fear flashing in her eyes. "I shouldn't say anything. I don't want to get anyone in trouble."
She'd been crying, he noticed with a pulse of anger. "Lady ... Bethany, excuse me if I'm being rude, but I know an abused woman when I see one. And if someone's hurting you, believe me, I can make the motherfucker regret it." He balled his hands into fists, pushing the image of his sister, bloody, bruised, and crying, out of his head.
She gaped at him. "I can't—"
The diner door crashed open. Bethany all but jumped out of her seat and Tanner twisted round in his to see a lean, mean-faced guy walk in. He was dressed all in black, making Tanner think of crows and undertakers. He zeroed right in on Bethany and a thunderous look turned his face from mean to cruel. He strode over, yelling as he approached.
"What are we taught, Bethany?" he bellowed. "'Let a woman learn quietly with all submissiveness.' Have you shown submissiveness? Have you shown quietness? How dare you!"
Bethany cowered back in her seat and Tanner leapt up, stepping between her and the man. "What the fuck is this?" he asked. The other guy was shorter than him and Tanner used his size to his advantage, cutting the guy off from Bethany. "You wanna come in here yelling at someone, how about someone who wants a fight?"
The man somehow managed to look down his nose at Tanner. "Step aside. This is nothing to do with you." He tried to skirt round Tanner, but Tanner grabbed his arm.
"It is if I fucking decide it is."
"Tanner!" Mia yelled a warning from behind the counter, but he ignored her. If this fucker tried anything, Tanner was laying him out.
"Bethany, are you going to hide behind this barbarian?" the man asked. "Are you a coward on top of everything else, girl?"
Oh man. Tanner itched to smack him. The contempt in his voice just made Tanner's skin crawl.
He heard Bethany sidle out of the booth. "Nathaniel, please." Her voice shook but didn't break, and Tanner felt a spurt of irrational pride. "Just ... just let me go. I'll disappear, I won't make any trouble, I won't talk to anyone."
"Go where?" Nathaniel mocked. "Do what? You're a foolish girl and you're destined for a bad end if you walk away from the Church. You know this." He tried to pull loose of Tanner's grip without success and glowered at the bigger man. "Look at what awaits you out here, Bethany. Thugs, and worse. You have a place in the Church. An important place." He softened his voice, cajoling. "Come home now and your punishment won't be harsh."
"Punishment!" Tanner saw red. "What kinda fucking church is this?"
"I won't go back," Bethany said desperately. "I won't, Nathaniel, I can't."
"'But the woman was deceived and became a transgressor.' Whatever life you think you can have, Bethany, you're wrong." Nathaniel tried once more to shake Tanner off, and this time Tanner let him. "You will come home now and you will praise God that I found you before you were raped or murdered, and you will accept your place like the good girl I know you are." He gave her an oily smile and reached out to touch her.
Bethany slapped his hand away. "No!"
Nathaniel's face turned purple. "I won't be defied, you little Jezebel!" He smacked her. Bethany staggered back with a cry.
Tanner snapped. He swung at Nathaniel hard, taking grim satisfaction from the meaty sound of his fist ploughing into Nathaniel's jaw. The other man swayed, then crashed to the floor like a felled tree.
"Tanner! Out! Out now!" Mia stormed over, thrusting her finger toward the door, her face red with rage. "And take her with you!"
Tanner glanced at Bethany. She was holding her face, tears in her eyes, but her expression as she stared at the unconscious Nathaniel was one of gleaming pleasure.
"Mia," Tanner started, feeling he should at least pretend to be sorry he'd clocked a dude in her diner. She waved him silent as she knelt down beside Nathaniel.
"Just go before he comes round and you start more trouble."
Tanner wanted to protest that Nathaniel had started it—slapping a woman, seriously. What the fuck?—but he knew better than to argue with Mia. He took Bethany by the hand. "Come on," he said. "I think we've just outstayed our welcome."
Chapter Three
Beth didn't protest as Tanner hustled her out of the diner and toward his bike. Partly she was just too shocked to—the sight of Nathaniel had filled her with dread and her head was ringing from his smack. But partly she didn't want to. Seeing Tanner punch Nathaniel had filled her with a dark glee she would never have guessed herself capable of. Her initial impression of Tanner, that he was a protector, was solidified. He'd defended her and he had no reason to, just as Mia had no reason to be so kind to her.
This was not what the Church had taught her. It was both bewildering and exhilarating.
Tanner all but threw her on his bike. "Where are we going?" she asked, breathless at how quickly it had all happened.
"Home," he said, revving the engine.
She had a split-second of panic, and then realized he had to mean his own home, not hers. She locked her arms around his waist as they shot away from the diner, closing her eyes against the driving rain.
Nobody had ever fought for her before. Nobody had ever stood up for her. Tanner may as well have turned water into wine, that was how miraculous his actions seemed. Beth hoped it wouldn't get him into trouble. Would Mia call the police? Nathaniel, she was almost positive, would not. That wasn't the Church way. You handled things internally, with guidance from Abram. He was fond of saying that no earthly authority could hold dominion over the Church.
She opened her eyes as she felt the rain slacken, and watched the horizon fill with buildings. Fields and farmlands gave way to houses and gardens, and she saw tall buildings punching up into the dark sky, taller than anything she'd ever seen before. People lived up there? It must be terrifying. Or maybe beautiful, to be so close to the sky.
She squinted to make out the town sign as they zipped past, just about able to read "Welcome to Warren's Mill" before the sign was behind them. Warren's Mill. It sounded nice. Quaint and peaceful. Not like Tanner.
He slowed down as they navigated the streets, giving Beth time to see a town that seemed stuck somewhere between 1950s Americana and the modern world as she envisioned it. A cafe bright with vintage Coca Cola signs in the window and aqua blue vinyl seats. Minimalist stores with a single black dress on display. On one street corner she saw an abandoned car, rusted and peeling, the exposed metal sun-baked. On the next, a row of clubs promising live music, cheap drinks, and hot girls in turn. The weather was keeping a lot of people indoors, but she saw men in leather pants with brightly-colored hair, old women walking tiny dogs, and young couples smoking in bus shelters.
It was more life than she'd seen in her entire twenty-two years, and it was enough to wipe the Church, Abram, and Nathaniel from her mind.
They rode all the way through town until they emerged on the other side, where fields and a rushing river greeted them. Tanner pulled up outside a three-story building that was a mixture of beige bricks and white wooden slats. Bikes and trucks were lined up outside and she could just make out the thud of music within.
“This is your home?” she asked Tanner as they got off his bike. The size of
the building daunted her.
“Kind of. This is the Wild Blood MC clubhouse. So it’s like my second home. It used to be the mill, as in Warren's Mill.” Tanner gave her a chagrined look. “You’re soaking wet again. Come on, let’s get inside.” He took her hand and led her to the door, then hesitated. “Come to think of it, let’s go round the back.”
She followed silently, wondering why he’d changed his mind. Was she embarrassing? Someone he didn’t want his friends or family to see him with? The thought stung, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask. He’d helped her this far. She’d just have to trust that he’d help her a little more. All she really needed was an idea of where to head next, and then she could thank him and be on her way.
Round the back of the old mill was a clearing full of dirt that the storm had turned to mud. She could see tire tracks everywhere, in wide loops and tight circles, and guessed Tanner and his friends spent a lot of time back here just playing around on their bikes. She’d seen a few shows on TV that had left her with the impression that all men really wanted out of life was a car or motorbike to play with.
Tanner pushed open a pair of tall wooden doors and ushered her in. She found herself in a cold room stacked with crates of beer and smelling of sawdust. The ceiling was high and beamed, and she could see it had been a beautiful building once. Time had left the wood scarred and worn, but there was a sense of age and history that came with that, and she liked it. The Church houses were old and worn too, but that was a matter of miserliness. Abram refused to pay for repairs by outsiders, insisted that everyone learned to maintain their own properties … But he didn’t give anyone the resources to do it.
“Now,” Tanner said, drawing her attention back to him. “Uh … Fuck, how do I put this?”
She braced herself. Nobody started a sentence like that and followed it with anything good.
“You know anything about MCs?” he asked her.
Beth shook her head.
“Okay then.” He seemed nervous, running his hands over his stubbled jaw over and over, his dark eyes narrowed. He had beautiful lashes, she noticed absently. Long and thick and dark. “Well, I’m no rocket scientist, but I don’t have to be to see you’ve come from a … a gentler environment, right?”
She burst out laughing. She couldn’t help herself. “Gentler? No. Definitely not.”
He looked surprised. “Sheltered then? Cloistered?”
“Cloistered,” she agreed. “That’s the right word.”
“Well, MC clubs are pretty rowdy sometimes.” He sounded almost apologetic. “Drinking, a little pot, you know,” Tanner continued. “But I want you to know, Bethany, that my brothers are good guys, okay? Nobody here will hurt you, no matter what.” He rested his hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. “And if some bastard shows up and tries to snatch you, you’ve got all of us on your side, right?”
She believed him. Not just because she’d already seen him take out Nathaniel, but because he simply breathed sincerity. His gaze was intense, fixed on her as if she was all that existed. His touch was gentle, but she could feel the strength in those fingers and she trusted that he would never turn that strength against her. It was dizzying, this unexpected faith in this unexpected man.
She smiled up at him and tried to put her faith into the smile. “Thank you.”
He let his fingers slide off her shoulders, almost a caress. “Okay then. So let’s get you dry again and then maybe we can talk about that dude at the diner.”
He took her through the store room and into a narrow corridor where the pounding music was suddenly much louder. She saw a staircase at the end of the corridor and several doors branching off it. Tanner opened one of the doors to reveal a spacious kitchen, decorated country-style with wooden cupboards and a huge island in the middle. Every surface seemed to be covered in empty cans, bottles, and pizza boxes. The sink was stacked with unwashed plates and dirty glasses. The odor of cheese and barbecue sauce hung in the air, and Beth recoiled, hoping Tanner wasn’t planning to leave her there.
“It’s a little messy,” Tanner said unnecessarily. He waved her toward the kitchen table. “Take a seat. I’m gonna go find you some dry clothes.”
He left before she could answer, so she sat down and stared at the pizza boxes and beer cans. She sniffed a can. The smell was sweet and yeasty, and much more pleasant than she’d always imagined. The only alcohol the Church allowed was red wine on Sundays, and then only a tiny sip from a glass that was passed around the congregation. Abram said alcohol opened the mind to the Devil. Beth had always privately thought she might enjoy that.
The kitchen door swung open and she turned, expecting Tanner. Instead, an older man with a shaved head and a gray-flecked black beard strode in. He was carrying a crate of beer and whistling to himself, and when he saw Beth, his face contorted into a ferocious scowl.
“Who the fuck are you and what the fuck are you doing in here?”
She cringed, automatically dropping her gaze to stare at the stains on the cracked tiles. She heard herself mumble something—an apology probably—but it did nothing to lessen his anger.
“Now listen. I know you didn’t come in through the front and I sure as hell ain’t having no thieves in here, so—”
“Tanner brought me!” Beth cried. The accusation, the very idea, that she was a thief jerked her out of her habitual submissiveness.
The big guy snorted and set down his crate on top of another, empty crate. “Oh he did, did he? And he just dumped you in here? What, are you the new fucking maid or something?” He leaned against the counter, looking her over in a critical way that reminded her painfully of Abram. “Sure don’t look good for fuck—”
“Rattler, shut your fucking mouth.” Tanner stomped back in, looking genuinely angry. “Show some respect to the lady.”
“Respect is earned, kid.” Rattler popped open a beer and took a deep swig, then leered at Beth. “If she's gonna be your new back warmer, she needs to grow a spine or she’ll get eaten alive.”
“Funny how the only people who ever say ‘respect is earned’ are the bastards who think they don’t have to earn it.” Tanner moved beside Beth, putting one hand reassuringly on her shoulder. “C’mon, Bethany, it’s getting a little crowded in here for my tastes.”
He walked her to the door. Beth could feel Rattler’s eyes on her as they moved and it sent shivers down her spine. As they left, he called after Tanner. “What, you think you get respect just for being in the slammer? You’re on thin ice, kid. You need to watch your mouth.”
Tanner shut the kitchen door firmly. “He’s full of shit,” he said, more to himself than Beth. “I borrowed some clothes off one of the girls. Ready for another outfit?"
Beth hurried up the stairs after him, head spinning. “You were in prison?” Her stomach knotted up. Had she been that naive, that stupid?
Tanner paused on the stairs, turning to frown down at her. “I was … Yeah, I was. I mean, not for anything bad …”
“You don’t go to prison for doing good deeds,” she argued.
His frown turned into a menacing scowl. “We can talk about it later.” He all but ran up the stairs, and Beth was forced to run after him. His obvious anger—or was it shame?—ate at her. She felt like she’d hurt him by asking, but really, was she supposed to ignore it? He’d said she’d be safe here and that guy, Rattler, had made her feel anything but safe. And now Tanner turned out to be an ex-convict. Once again the horror stories she’d heard all her life filled her head. The world beyond the Church was dark, dangerous, and deadly, and she’d trusted the first man she’d run into.
She didn't want to believe it he was dangerous, but how could she just ignore it?
Her head pounded and exhaustion swept her. She’d fled the Church, run through the storm, nearly been run over, and narrowly escaped Nathaniel, all in a matter of hours. And now this. Her savior … a criminal? It all hit her like a physical blow. She realized she was shaking, from cold, adrenaline, and fear, a
nd she stopped, leaning against the rough bricks for support. The tears that she’d managed to stifle back at the diner returned in a flood.
Tanner turned. “Oh shit, no … Hey, don’t cry.” He ran back to meet her and Beth squeaked as he scooped her up in his arms as if she were feather-light. “Goddammit, I can take anything but women crying.” He cradled her against his chest and carried her up the stairs. “When I was a kid, my sister could get me to do anything by turning on the waterworks. Fucking embarrassing, I can tell you.”
Despite her doubts, Beth cuddled into him. Her worries about impropriety melted away. He was warm and solid, and she loved that leathery-musk scent from his jacket. It was irresistible and she wanted to go back to just a few minutes ago, before Rattler, when she’d trusted absolutely that Tanner was some kind of guardian angel.
I’ll never survive out here, she thought, clinging to him. But I can’t go back. So what now?
Chapter Four
Bethany sobbed quietly as he carried her along the hallway to one of the spare rooms. The sound ripped at Tanner’s heart. She was so fucking young and fragile, and he’d brought her here, where the smell of pot clung to the wood and the sounds of sex echoed behind the closed doors around him. Good thinking, Tanner.
Still, his own place was off limits and at least here nobody was going to carry her off against her will. “Here we go.” He set her down outside one of the guest rooms. She still clung to his jacket as if she’d collapse without it, so he let her cling while he shoved the door open. “We always keep a few rooms made up. The guys crash here a lot, sometimes they have company …” He drifted off as a particularly enthusiastic cry of oh fuck yes resounded from the next room. A quick glance at Bethany showed her cheeks were blazing. “It locks,” he said quickly, showing her in and pointing out the bolt on the inside of the door. “So nobody can get in unless you invite them, okay?”
