by Debra Kayn
Once she had everything sitting in the bag by the door, she looked out the window. The bikers continued to talk with Whip. She couldn't hear the conversation, but she hoped Whip let them know that they could let her go on with her life and not worry about Big coming after them.
It was probably for the best that she knew nothing else about their plans. She wanted no part in anyone going after Big. She wanted to walk away and put everything in her past.
She stepped away from the window and paced the small room. Once she got back to the house, she'd call Amy, her supervisor at work, and let her know she'd be able to pick up her after-dinner hours at Mama Jean's Pie Shoppe.
Chapter 11
Whip
A pillow sailed down from the loft. Whip leaned to the side, letting Twyla's weapon fall to the floor. Sitting at the small table by the front door, he continued to shuffle the deck of cards he had yet to do anything with since the other Tarkio members left.
The shuffling kept his hands busy and off Twyla.
"I swear, I'll throw the mattress at you next if you don't answer me." She peeked her head over the top of the ladder. "I'm serious, Whip. We talked. I told you what I want to do. Tell me why you changed your mind, and why we have to stay here."
"I never changed my mind." He cut the card deck in half and tapped them against the surface of the table.
"You never told me I couldn't go."
"I did."
"Not until after they left."
"Same thing."
She disappeared from sight. A groan followed.
"Tell me why you think you have some kind of power over me and think you can tell me what to do?" A muffled scream came from upstairs. "No one rules my life, but me."
He set the cards on the table and leaned back in the chair. Priest wanted to go after Big. There was no stopping the club. He understood the threat against him and Tarkio. If Twyla wasn't involved, he'd be right beside his MC brothers as they took care of business.
Instead, he was stuck at the cabin waiting for word to get back to him.
"You are so lucky I can't lift the stupid mattress," muttered Twyla.
He grinned, looking up to the loft. Unable to see her, he could imagine her hot, sweaty, struggling to move an object that weighed twice as much as her. The girl had a temper.
She also wasn't afraid to let all her emotions and moods show, and the hell with everyone else. The girl walked her own beat, and he had to admire that about her.
Since bringing her to the cabin, he'd had all the time in the world to figure her out, and she made it simple.
So simple, he knew from the first night they slept in the loft that once she fell asleep, she was dead to the world. She'd start out at the edge of the mattress, and by the time she closed her eyes, she'd fallen asleep and rolled across the bed to snuggle in his arms.
Each morning, he slipped out of bed before she woke up. So far, he'd kept her oblivious to how she sought him out during the night.
He let her have that.
Because if he let her know how her anger toward him disappeared, her sadness went away, and her fear vanished when she was her most vulnerable, it would make the days with her unbearable.
As it was, he got through them, knowing he'd get a sweet reward each night.
It'd been a long time since he'd slept the whole night with a woman. Hell, he fucked women as often as he could, but he hadn't spent a whole night with them, much less stuck around day after day, since before he'd gone off to prison.
Being at the cabin, away from everyone, relaxed him, despite what he knew was happening in town. Having Twyla with him, he could imagine what it would be like when his life went back to normal.
He'd be missing out on a whole hell of a lot of pleasure.
His chest tightened. With her around, his mind constantly strayed from what was important. Cusclan was out there. He would like nothing more than to put a gun to the head of each member and make them pay for what they'd put his family through.
Instead, he was sitting on his ass, imagining what it'd be like to come home to Twyla every night.
To feel the full effect of her mouth, one-minute throwing attitude at him, and the next, sucking his cock.
He scratched his chest. It took everything in him not to take more from her than she'd already given him.
He'd like to go up into the loft and put her in a better mood. But, he'd already taken more from her by whisking her away from her life, her job. He wasn't going to chance hurting her more when she went back to the house, and he dropped out of her life.
A shoe flew through the air. He caught it.
"God, just once can you screw up? Why do you have to be so perfect? I'd like to hit you upside your head and knock some sense into you." She climbed down the ladder.
Rubbing his thumb against the rubber sole, he eyed her ass as she made her way down each rung. Once her feet hit the floor, she pulled down the hem of her shorts and marched toward him.
Grabbing the shoe from him, she glared. "I want my car keys."
She'd asked three times since the Tarkio members had left. For days before that, she simply held out her hand, assuming he knew what she was asking for without having to speak to him—which he refused to give her.
He took in her heaving breasts. His cock throbbed, gaining interesting he'd fought hard to ignore.
She thrust her upturned hand toward him again, trying to get him to change his mind. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her before she could push away, he held her tightly against him.
She struggled, squirming on his lap. He ignored her temper.
"Please. I want to leave." The plea hissed through her clenched teeth.
"You know I can't do that." He kissed the side of her head. "Big is dangerous."
"To other people." She pushed against him, groaning in frustration when he wouldn't let her go. "He's not going to hurt me. He just wants me back. You can...you can hide from him, but let me go."
"You don't believe that."
"I do."
"You know better."
"No, I don't."
She wanted to trust that Big was the same way he was when she liked him. He got that. But he knew, better than her, how men like Big lived. The motorcycle club came first. People got hurt. People died.
Even those they loved.
Shaking off the similarities in himself, he pressed his lips against her head. "You can't trust Cusclan."
"I wasn't in a relationship with Cusclan Motorcycle Club. I had a short relationship with Big, for how messed up it was between us. It wasn't a close relationship." She sighed. "We hung out a few times, and then I made the stupid mistake of moving in with him because my rent would be cheaper. It made sense at the time. You know, women shouldn't have to answer why they choose to have relationships. It's the nineties, not the fifties."
"It doesn't matter. You were involved with Big, and that makes you involved with Cusclan." His chest warmed when she no longer fought to get away from him.
"He's not someone who finishes anything he starts. He's probably already given up on his revenge against you and found some other woman to mess around with. He's a hot head and jealous, but that makes him incredibly stupid. I only wished I knew that a month ago." She raised her head and looked at him. "Live and learn. That's why I think if you just let me leave, you can go back to whatever it is you do."
He raised his hand and stroked her cheek. "Did he treat you bad?"
"If being a jerk and ignoring me when I was living in the same house counts as bad, then yeah." She shrugged. "But, hurt me? Nobody can hurt me."
He brought her down to his chest and closed his eyes, holding her. He'd thought the same about himself his whole life, but he'd been wrong.
He'd been hurt.
He'd lived through shit that he never imagined.
"You're wrong," he murmured. "No matter how hard you try and protect yourself, people can hurt you."
She s
hook her head against him. "Not if everything inside of me is already broken."
He held her tighter. She softened, slipping her arms around him. He wanted to be the man who chipped away her hard exterior and showed her the heart inside of her beat strong and hard.
Chapter 12
Twyla
Twyla put the last pie in the showcase and closed the glass window. The majority of customers coming in tonight leaned toward purchasing apple pie. She'd already stocked the case twice, and she still had two hours left on her shift.
"Welcome back." Amy, the lead waitress, stopped beside her, carrying new price tags. "Did you get away and enjoy your time off?"
"I went camping." She smiled when Amy's brows lifted in surprise. "It was...quiet."
She couldn't tell anywhere where she'd gone or why. But she wasn't lying. She'd answered Amy's question
"It must've helped. You're working your tail off tonight." Amy set the cards on top of the case.
"I want to thank you again for letting me have the week off on such short notice." She held back, needing Amy to understand she wouldn't take advantage of her employment. "I've already told Lynette and Brandy I'd cover their shifts whenever they want time off."
"As long as you ladies work things out between you, it's fine with me if you rearrange your schedules on this shift. It's hard enough to find employees who stay past their three-month probation stage." Amy brushed off her hands. "You've worked here for years and never took time off."
She smiled and went to clear the tables. At eighteen years old, she'd walked into Mama Jean's Pie Shoppe and asked for a job. That was seven years ago.
During that time, she'd made dumb decisions. Buying a car that was worth a quarter of what she got the loan for, renting too big of an apartment that she couldn't afford, and getting behind on bills because she couldn't keep up with her expenses. And moving in with Big.
Her job was her saving grace.
As long as she worked, she had enough money to survive if she limited herself. Maybe not to the level she wished for, but her bills were paid, and now she had a rental house.
She exhaled and put the napkin holder toward the back of the booth. Tomorrow morning, she needed to figure out how to contact her sister and figure out the rent cost. Once next month's expenses were covered, she could relax.
Yesterday, Whip had let her leave the cabin—informing her there were Tarkio members planted around Missoula and would see her going to the house. She hadn't seen anyone on a motorcycle, wearing a leather vest, but she had no doubt they were there. She had no reason not to trust Whip.
Her stomach fluttered. Away from Whip, she was constantly reminded of him.
The good.
The bad.
The really good and really bad.
God, he was stubborn and set in his ways. He wouldn't even argue with her because he believed he'd already won—and he had. She'd stayed with him for six full days.
He snored.
He left his beer cans around the cabin wherever he pleased.
He only talked when he wanted to speak, never when Twyla wanted him to answer her questions.
She swallowed, spotting more customers coming in and Rhonda jumping to help them.
Walking over to the counter, she inhaled deeply, trying to expel the warmth on her cheeks. Last night, sleeping without Whip, she'd tossed and turned all night.
She stayed up as long as her eyes would stay open, and he never came to bed. When she got up, he was outside the cabin. She wouldn't have known that he even slept in the same bed as her during the week, except there was nowhere else to sleep in the cabin. Not even a couch for him to stretch out on, only two wooden chairs that he barely fit on.
Not once had they had sex or even kissed.
But her body held the warmth of him when she woke up. The side of her cheek had the imprint of his vest.
The fact that he slept with her fully clothed, and she'd obviously cuddled with him through the hours turned her on more than if he would've tried to fool around with her.
Goosebumps covered her arms. She rubbed her limps, trying to shake all thoughts of Whip out of her mind.
He was gone from her life.
Their chance encounter turned mini-kidnap-vacation was over. He would go wherever it was safe for him.
Picking up the order pad and grabbing the full coffee pot, she walked across the room to check with her customers. She would never find out if Whip survived Big's attack. She would never know if he got back to riding with his club. She would never know if he gave her a second thought once she left him.
She approached the booth and smiled. "How are you folks doing?"
The older woman slid her coffee cup toward Twyla. "Just a little."
Twyla poured, topping off the mug, and looked at the gentlemen. "How about you?"
Coffee was endless at the restaurant. Many customers spent hours visiting, slowly eating their pie, and coming back time and again.
"I'm good." The older man leaned back in the booth and patted his stomach. "Two pieces of pie tells me it's time for a nap."
She laughed. "Well, you sit back and take a catnap. If you change your mind, my name is Twyla. I'll help you."
"Don't you dare fall asleep, Herb." The woman pointed her fork across the table and glared.
Herb winked at Twyla. "She's the boss."
"Well, it looks like she's got a tough job." She smiled at the couple and stepped away.
Older couples were hilarious. She admired their ease around each other. Probably married for decades, they had a deep friendship and connection.
Glad to be back at work, she moved to check on the new arrivals and hit a brick wall at the sight of Big and another Cusclan member entering the door. She sidestepped to hide. Her heart beat faster, knowing Whip wasn't here.
Although confident she could take care of herself, she panicked. Whip's belief that if Big failed to get him arrested, he'd come after her made her paranoid.
Big walked over to her. She held her ground. They were inside the restaurant. All of her co-workers were here. The room was full of customers.
He couldn't hurt her.
"Long time, no see, baby." Big kept walking, forcing her to back away from the customers.
Afraid he'd bowl her over, she stepped away as soon as she reached the counter. "What do you want?"
"Besides you?" Big glared. "I want what you stole from me."
She tilted her head up and pressed her lips together, making her neck ache. There was no way she'd give him back his pistol and box of ammunition she'd taken the day she left his house for the last time. She wasn't a fool. He had a club who would give him a new one.
No, she was going to keep the gun because as long as Big knew she had it, the pistol would keep him from touching her.
Though she couldn't shoot him in the middle of the restaurant. The pistol was in the back, inside her purse, and on her as soon as she stepped outside.
"I've got nothing of yours." She lowered her voice. "Now, excuse me. I need to work."
He grabbed her arm and hauled her against him. "Don't make me—"
"Twyla?" Amy stepped beside her. "Go ahead and take your break. I'll seat these gentlemen."
Not wanting Big to harass Amy, she looked to her supervisor. "I've got this. They ordered a pie to go." Turning her attention back to Big, she motioned for him to follow. "I'll get your pie."
Not stopping, she hoped Big was walking behind her. She couldn't afford to lose her job.
Stepping behind the counter, she removed the first pie closest to her, a rhubarb pie, and set it on the top of the case. Big stood there, challenging her to stop him from making a scene.
"Take it," she said on a hiss. "Leave me alone."
Big took the dessert and leaned closer. "We're not done."
She glanced around. Amy watched her from the other side of the room, concern etched on her face. Bikers weren't the normal kind of people the restaurant attracted or wanted.
Big thumped the top of the glass case with his meaty fist and stepped backward, staring her down. She kept her mouth shut. All she wanted was for him to leave.
Once he and his MC brother reached the door and stepped outside, she exhaled in a rush. What in the world was he doing?
He'd never once come to the restaurant during the time she lived with him. Not to drop her off or pick her up, and certainly not to surprise her on her shift.
His reason to stop by, wanting his gun back, was an excuse. He could get a gun anywhere. Plus, he had other ones at his house. She'd seen them.
Quickly glancing around the room, she slipped the cash out of her pocket and counted out the right amount for the pie from her tips. She put the money in the cash register and then grabbed another pot of coffee.
Thankful no one caught her paying for Big's pie, she went to wait her tables. The sun had set, making it impossible to see out the large windows in the front of the restaurant.
She grew more nervous, the closer it got to closing time. Whip's warnings kept creeping back in her head.
She'd make sure she walked with the others to her car after work. But for the first time, she was nervous about going home alone.
She hadn't had time to get used to the house or the neighborhood. Every little noise or a car passing on the street seemed strange and made her imagination work overtime.
It was different when Angie lived there. Now that she was alone, she let Whip's warnings take up too much space in her head.
Whip was sure Big would come after her. She'd shot down the idea, blaming his hate for everyone in Cusclan.
But what if she was wrong and he was right?
Chapter 13
Whip
Frank and Rick rode up to the cabin. Whip stepped out and raised his hand. Normally, he'd enjoy the solitude of staying by himself. It was a break from living at the clubhouse.
But, damned, he missed Twyla and her temper.
