by Brook Wilder
Still, while he thought he wanted to the ride to be shorter, a part of him wanted it to go on forever. Far from being disgustingly sweaty, as she’d claimed to be, she was enticingly warm against his back. He could feel her body heat radiating around him. It was all he could do not to pull over, turn around, and take her.
He imagined bending her over his bike, pulling those sweatpants down to expose her rear to him. In his mind, she was wearing lacy panties that left little to the imagination. He’d pull those down quickly enough, so he could gain access to the part of her he craved most. She would have a lovely moan, he thought. When he touched her, parted those lower lips so he could mount her from behind. Take her roughly, show her just how much he wanted her.
They arrived at the clubhouse all too quickly. When Della handed his helmet back to him, she didn’t meet his gaze. Her cheeks were flushed pink, and he could tell that she was embarrassed. It was quite possible she’d been thinking somewhere along the same lines as he had been. That thought tested his control all over again. But he knew this was not the time or the place for what he really wanted.
He hung up the helmet and shook all lecherous thoughts from his mind.
“Stick with me,” he told Della. “Don’t be scared, okay? I’m going to keep you safe.”
Much to his surprise, she looked up at him with trust in her eyes. She nodded, tried and failed to smile a little. It was clear she was still nervous. When he put his arm around her she stiffened slightly, her cheeks going red.
“Relax,” he murmured. “It’s just so the guys won’t go after you. If they think you’re mine, they’ll leave you be.”
“What if it’s not them I’m scared of?” she asked, her voice surprisingly steady.
Prescott couldn’t help running his hand down to her hip, pulling her a little closer.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he murmured. “Promise.”
He hoped he could stay true to those words. The feeling of her tucked under his arm felt so complete, so right, that he was somewhat shocked.
At another nod from Della, he guided her toward the clubhouse entrance. Truth be told, he wasn’t doing so great at keeping calm himself. He had been waiting for this moment for too long, and he was determined not to let anyone or anything mess it up.
The first problem that presented itself was Shaft. He was sitting on a bench off to the side of the entrance, almost like he was waiting for Prescott. Like he’d known this was going to happen. He stood up when he Prescott and Della approached.
“Who’s your friend?” Shaft asked, acting casual.
“This is Della,” Prescott said. “Della, meet Shaft.”
Much to Prescott’s surprise, Della didn’t hesitate before sticking her hand out to Shaft. They shook hands quickly, and Prescott could see both of them sizing up the other. He liked the look he saw in Della’s eyes. She actually relaxed visibly in Shaft’s presence, and Prescott knew she’d gotten a good feel for him.
Shaft, meanwhile, looked concerned. He wasn’t necessarily angry, and Prescott could tell he didn’t have a problem with Della herself. Still, it was obvious his friend wanted to talk.
“Can you give us a minute?” he asked Della. “You can sit right over here.”
He led her to the bench that Shaft had vacated. She seated herself and crossed her legs. Prescott and Shaft walked a little ways away, but Prescott made sure to stand somewhere where he could keep an eye on Della.
“I don’t like this,” Shaft whispered as soon as Della was out of earshot. “She doesn’t belong here, Prescott.”
“Why? Because she’s not a club girl?” Prescott asked, getting defensive.
“Yes,” Shaft said. “That’s exactly why. She’s an outsider. You knew how I felt about this and you did it anyway.”
“You sound like my old man.”
“I’m trying to sound like a concerned friend.”
“Look,” Prescott said on a sigh. “She has info. I just want to take her temperature, see if she recognizes my dad’s killer.”
“See if she recognizes Al, you mean.”
Prescott shrugged. “I’ve got a feeling she’ll recognize Al, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to be disappointed if she fingers someone else. No matter what, I’m gonna catch the killer. I’m going to have the truth.”
Shaft didn’t respond right away. Prescott could tell he was getting through to his friend.
“Just pretend she’s one of my fucktoys,” he said, smiling devilishly. “Another club girl who can fade into the background.”
“Is she?” Shaft asked. “One of your fucktoys, I mean.”
Prescott couldn’t help mulling the idea over, thinking again about how much he’d like to feel Della’s naked body pressed against his. He could do it right here, push her against the wall, take her for his own. He’d ride her until they were both sweaty, spent, and satisfied.
“Hey,” Shaft said. “Focus, man.”
“Sorry,” Prescott said. He realized he was staring at Della and quickly turned back to Shaft. “It isn’t like that with us,” he explained. “We haven’t done anything. Barely touched, except for the ride over here.”
“Maybe you should keep it that way,” Shaft said. “Girl like that… she’s gotta be looking down on you from her high horse. She won’t mean to or anything, but she doesn’t really understand us, you know? Best just to leave her in her own world, instead of dragging her into ours.”
“She’s not as innocent as she appears,” Prescott said.
“What makes you so sure?”
“I don’t know. Something about her, like she’s holding herself back.”
Prescott wanted to see her let loose. He wanted to be there when she broke free of her shell.
“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I’m going to tell you to be careful,” Shaft said. “You don’t have the best record for thinking before you act.”
“Fuck off,” Prescott said.
“I will when you grow two brain cells to rub together.”
“Whatever,” Prescott said, trying not to smile. “Let’s get this over with.”
He returned to Della, took her hand in his. She looked up into his eyes, and he saw fear there.
“You’re doing great,” he whispered to her. “Remember, you’re safe as long as you’re with me. Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she said without hesitation.
There was still fear in her. She was a little pale, and her eyes were wide. But he also saw trust in her expression. The way she gazed up at him made him want to take her away from this place, somewhere private where he could wrap her in his arms. He reached out to brush a stray lock of hair out of her face. That brought a little of the color back to her cheeks. He nearly leaned down to kiss her right then and there. Her lips were slightly parted, as if in invitation. But he stopped himself, taking a page out of Shaft’s book and thinking before he acted.
“The guys might try to rile you,” he warned her. “They like to give club girls a hard time. Especially new ones.”
“Club girls?” she asked.
“They’re girls who sort of… belong to the club. They’re unattached. That’s what you are for today. But you’re on my arm only, okay? Don’t let them get to you.”
“Sure.”
“You’re gonna do fine. Come on.”
He gently pulled her to her feet, then slipped his arm around her again. This time she didn’t tense up at all. Far from it, she actually leaned into him, fitting herself perfectly against his body. Prescott rested his hand over her rear, curling his fingers around the edge of her hip. She didn’t shy away from the touch, not even when he gave her a little squeeze of encouragement.
Together they walked into the clubhouse.
CHAPTER SIX
This was all so surreal. Della’s heart was pounding. She couldn’t tell if she was more affected by being in a motorcycle club’s clubhouse or by the feeling of Prescott’s arm around her. With his hand on her rear, and
his body pressed against hers, she could barely think about anything else. She didn’t even know why she was letting Prescott touch her so intimately. They barely knew each other, and she was aware of how dangerous he was. Despite that, she felt inexplicably safe with him. He had promised she would not come to harm, and she knew that he was keeping his arm around her to fulfill that promise. As long as she looked like she belonged to Prescott, the other guys would keep their distance.
And she was glad for that.
As soon as they walked into the clubhouse, all eyes turned on them. Della felt the gazes of the other men like a physical touch. They looked her up and down, inspecting her. They raised their eyebrows at her and at each other. These men were covered with tattoos. They had unruly hair and beards, thick rings on every finger. Many were drinking. Della didn’t doubt for a second that each man was more dangerous than the last. She was in a den of criminals, all of whom could kill her without batting an eye.
Prescott didn’t react at all to their lewd looks, so Della tried to keep calm as well. She tried not to think about the fact that the men were dangerous.
It helped that Shaft was right behind them. Della didn’t know why, but she had felt instantly at ease when she’d met Prescott’s friend. Shaft was soft-spoken for a biker, and he had kind eyes. She saw a lot of depth in his expression.
“What do you got there, Prescott?” someone asked. “New filly that needs breaking?”
“Yeah, I’ll bet she’s a wild one,” another intoned.
Della tried to hold her head high without blushing. This was all an act, and she couldn’t break character. Prescott had warned her this would happen.
“I’ll tame her soon enough,” Prescott replied easily, giving Della an extra squeeze to emphasize his point.
“Is he giving you enough exercise?” the first man asked Della. “If you need someone with a little more stamina, I’m up to the task. I can make you scream all night long.”
“Shame,” Della said. “You still wouldn’t beat Prescott. We’ve practically been living in his bed for the last three days straight.”
The guys howled with laughter, seemingly in approval. Della wondered if she had said the right thing. A glance at the smile on Prescott’s face told her she had.
“So what brings you here?” the second guy asked Prescott. “Just wanted to show off your new piece of ass?”
Della wasn’t sure if she was imagining it, but there seemed to be some sort of threatening implication in the tone of the question. She’d thought that Prescott would be really close with everyone in his MC, but it looked like a few of the men were less than pleased to have him around. What was going on?
“Do I need a reason to be in the clubhouse?” Prescott asked.
The man shrugged, but didn’t respond.
“Just promise you’ll share once you get tired of the new girl,” someone else said.
“I don’t like sharing,” Prescott said.
“Your mother oughta be ashamed of you,” the man said reprovingly.
“Whose mother is ashamed of them?” someone else asked.
The newcomer emerged from the shadows, smiling for all he was worth. That smile sent chills down Della’s spine. Not just because it was sinister, but because she recognized this person. It may have been dark that night, but she was sure of it. It was like watching the murder all over again. She found herself sucking in air, and reaching around Prescott to squeeze him.
Now, more than ever, she was finding it difficult to hide her fear. This was exactly why Prescott had brought her here, to identify the man who had killed his father. Now she had done that, but if she gave any indication to the murderer there was a good chance neither of them would leave that building alive.
Other than giving her a quick squeeze in return, Prescott didn’t acknowledge Della’s revelation at all. He kept his focus on the newcomer, though. Della tried to memorize his features. The grizzled hair and sickening smile were distinctive enough, but she also noticed more than a few battle scars. This man had seen a lot of action, and had most likely come out of it smiling.
“All our mothers are ashamed of us,” Prescott replied easily. “We’re no good criminals who spit in the face of authority.”
“Hell, that’s no reason to be ashamed,” the newcomer said. “My mother was scarier than any of you pussies, and she was proud of it.”
He stepped closer and gave Della a lecherous once-over, much like the others had done.
“And who is this lovely young thing?” he asked. “Why haven’t I met her before? You’ve been holding out on us, Prescott.”
“I’m sorry,” Prescott said. “Did I forget to fill out the forms for finding a new lay?”
“Now, now,” the man said. “Try to be polite.”
Prescott frowned a little, but he managed to make the necessary introductions.
“Al, this is Della. Della, meet Al. The president of our club.”
Della tried not to let her hand tremble when she reached out to shake with Al. He squeezed her hand firmly, still smiling.
In a low tone, Al said to her, “I know quite a few men who would pay top dollar for an hour in bed with you. I’ll bet your pussy’s as tight as a vice.”
“You can tell those men that I’m spoken for,” Della said coldly.
“For now,” he replied. “I’ll tell you this for free, honey. Prescott Graves doesn’t keep the same woman on his arm for more than a week or two. When he’s done with you, he may very well give you to us for safekeeping.”
There were more whoops and cheers at that. Della felt her whole body go cold. She could see in this man’s eyes just how hard and unfeeling he was. No wonder he’d been able to murder a fellow member of his club in cold blood. This was the difference between him and Prescott, the thing Della couldn’t make Kate see. Both men were criminals, but Prescott had a conscience. It was clear he didn’t always listen to it, but Prescott tried to be a good person. He had friends, and he clearly cared about his family.
With this other man, the murderer, Della saw no emotion. No remorse. He was the one Della didn’t want to turn her back on. She didn’t want to show fear, but she found herself swallowing hard. Prescott gave her another squeeze, this time to reassure her. He was here, and he was going to keep her safe. She leaned into him a little.
“Lay off, Al,” Prescott said, keeping his tone light. “You don’t know. Maybe I’ll keep this one.”
There were several laughs at that. Even Al let out a chuckle. This was what Prescott wanted, Della thought. He’d successfully broken the tension. But Della still didn’t like the way Al was looking at her. He cocked his head for a moment, his expression becoming pensive.
“Now that I think about it, I feel like I have seen you somewhere before,” he said.
“I think I would have remembered meeting you,” Della said.
“The feeling is mutual, but… I never forget a face. Yours is very familiar.”
Della shrugged, feeling Prescott’s arm tightening around her.
“I’ve lived here for a couple years now,” she said. “Maybe we passed each other on the street.” She tried to keep her voice level and noncommittal, but inside she was screaming. Turning as casually as she could toward Prescott, she said, “I think we should get out of here.”
“So soon?” Al asked.
“She’s probably ready for round two,” Prescott told the room. “Gotta keep my lady satisfied.”
There was more general agreement from the crowd as Prescott turned and guided Della away. They were almost at the door when Al called after them.
“You keep an eye on that girl, Prescott. She’s not one you want to let slip through your fingers.”
Prescott didn’t turn back or acknowledge the comment in any way. A second later, they were outside the clubhouse. Della took a deep breath, part of her fearing that they were going to be followed. But no one came.
Al’s words were still echoing around in Della’s head. She had heard the th
reat in them, and new that Prescott had, too. The whole experience had left her shaky, and she hoped she’d never have to face Al again.
Prescott pulled Della away from the main building, over to the small garage that they used to repair and clean their bikes. He had so many emotions raging through him that he didn’t know where to start. He was angry at Al and the guys for laying into Della, and he was angry at Della for making him work this hard to get information out of her. A whole lot of trouble could have been avoided if she’d just been honest with him in the first place.
