by Debra Kayn
She walked inside, glad to be out of view of Tracy's judgment. It wasn't her fault she had to stay here. If Tracy had a problem with her, she'd need to bring up her concerns with her brother.
Halfway across the room, Angie stepped in front of her and crossed her arms. Twyla exhaled loudly, unaware until now that her sister was at the clubhouse.
"What kind of trouble are you bringing to Tarkio?" Angie grabbed Twyla's arm and pulled her to the side of the room, away from the other bikers. "You need to stop whatever you're doing."
"Me?" She jerked her arm away from her sister's hold. "Maybe it's you. You're the one living with a Tarkio member."
"You're the one who was involved with a Cusclan member." Angie glared. "Just go back to him."
"Who?"
"Big."
"No."
"God, you're selfish." Angie curled her lip. "I hardly get to spend time with Ringtail because of you. He's always out doing things with his club, and I know it has to do with you and why you're staying here."
"Why I'm...?" She rolled her eyes. "You're the one who moved in with Ringtail and lost the rental house. How is that my fault?"
"You always ruin everything."
"You don't even know what you're talking about." Twyla stepped away, planning to go sit in the bedroom, when Angie gripped the sleeve of her shirt, yanking the material off her shoulder.
She grabbed her top before it ripped and pushed Angie away with her other hand. "What is wrong with you?"
Angie rushed her, shoving her against a nearby table. "Nobody wants you."
She straightened her arms, holding Angie back as her sister tried to grab her again. "I haven't done anything."
"You're such a bitch." Angie slapped out at her.
Deflecting her sister's hands, she raised her arms. "I'm a bitch? You're the one who's gone crazy."
Aware of the others in the room drawing closer, her embarrassment turned to anger. All the times she was accused as the troublemaker. The one who made things difficult for the family. The one who couldn't get along. The one which caused everyone heartache.
She grabbed Angie's hair and fought back. Everyone would blame her for the fight anyway.
Angie screamed, hitting Twyla harder. It was all she could do to protect her face from her sister's fingernails.
She struck back to keep Angie from hurting her. Her sister wouldn't stop until she'd expelled all her anger out on her. Her misplaced anger.
She hadn't done anything. Unless living with Big was a crime—which it wasn't.
Angie's fingers stuck in Twyla's hair. She cried out at the sharp tug on her scalp.
Then, Angie was gone.
Twyla put her arms down, breathing heavily, and raised her gaze, expecting Angie to hit her again and found Ringtail standing between her and her sister.
Ringtail's mouth hardened. "You good?"
Overheated, angry, and out of breath, she nodded, swiping her hair away from her face. She glanced at Angie, who held on to Ringtail and cried. Her sister was unbelievable, but she wasn't surprised to see her playing the victim. Angie always acted as if everything was Twyla's fault.
She backed away from everyone staring at her and bumped into a chair. Turning, she fled the room. In the bedroom, she quietly shut the door and paced the small area. After everything changed that morning between her and Whip, he'd probably come back inside and tell her to leave because of the stupid fight.
Why couldn't Angie let her be to live her own life? She wasn't competing for anyone's attention. Good Lord, they were adults.
Inhaling deeply, she tried to shake away her anger. Every time she tried to be happy and break away from her past, another sign showed up, telling her she was better off on her own.
The door swung open, hitting the wall with a bang. She startled, and then her body sagged in embarrassment at the sight of Whip.
He frowned, gazing up and down her body, before striding forward and hooking her neck, tilting her head higher. "Angie attacked you?"
She blew out a noisy breath in disgust. "A sister squabble."
"About?" He stroked her cheeks as if to assure himself that she was unhurt.
She shook her head. Her sister's problem with her wasn't important. If he wanted to know why they fought, he could ask Angie and get her view of whatever problem her sister had with her. She'd given up understanding Angie's reasons a long time ago.
"Can we get out of here for a little while?" She looked around for her purse and realized she'd dropped it in the scuffle. Her chest tightened. There were kids in the building.
She rushed out of the room and hurried to get her purse. The responsibility of holding on to Big's pistol was more than she could handle at the moment.
Spotting the leather bag, she retrieved the purse, checking the zipper to make sure it was closed. If one of the kids had gotten ahold of it and found the gun, she never would've forgiven herself.
"Hey." Whip turned her around and studied her. "You're not okay."
Her eyes burned, despite not wanting anyone to see her falling apart. She would never let Angie know that she'd gotten to her. "I need...I need..."
"Let's get out of here," he mumbled.
She nodded eagerly and grabbed on to his hand. Outside, she hung the strap of her purse over her head and let the heaviness settle at her hip.
Whip walked her to her car. "Where do you want to go?"
At the moment, she only wanted to get away from everyone. "Can we go back to the cabin?"
Though her reasons for going to the cabin the first time were insane and extreme, she wanted the security Whip gave her. The urge to take him away so that nobody could ruin what they had together pounded through her veins.
His gaze intensified as he waited for her to explain. Finally, he kissed her forehead and whispered, "Yeah, sis. I'll take you."
She got in her car. Following him away from the drama, her body relaxed. Whip understood her. At least he hadn't blamed her for what had happened back at the clubhouse.
For the first time in her life, someone had made an effort to get closer to her instead of pushing her away.
Chapter 18
Whip
Black rubble scarred the ground, erasing any sign of the fifty-year-old cabin. Whip straightened from his squatted position, turning away from the remains. The cabin had withstood the harshest of Montana winters and had housed many Tarkio members when they needed a roof over their heads.
He scanned the area. There was no smoke, no heat, no signs of any coal still smoldering.
"Who do you think burned down the cabin?" Twyla rubbed her arms despite the warmth of the day.
He had a good idea who was responsible for starting the fire. Cusclan Motorcycle Club wanted to show Tarkio they were aware Twyla had stayed at the cabin.
"Don't know, but we'll find out." He reached for her. "I need to go back and let the others know what happened here."
"Sure, I understand." She walked with him toward her car and his motorcycle.
She rubbed his back, letting him have peace and quiet while he rolled around a few ideas about why someone would burn down the cabin.
Through the years, Tarkio used the cabin to house members or visit during the summer while they partied at the river. When they weren't here, most people gave the cabin a wide berth while recreating along the Clark Fork, respecting the private property signs posted.
Besides garbage strung around or a few stray pieces of clothing from a couple who decided to fuck in privacy or a broken window from the harsh winter that needed replacing, nobody had gone as far as arson. There were a hundred cabins strung along the Clark Fork for miles, all privately owned.
He had a feeling; Tarkio's cabin was the only one burned to the ground.
Twyla hesitated at the driver's door and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Are you okay?"
He smoothed her hair back from her face. She had no idea that she was in the middle of a war, and he'd put here there.
"Pi
ssed." He kissed her hard and pulled back. "Nothing I won't fix."
"Anything I can do to help?"
Gazing down at her, willing and confident in a world that could hurt her, he wanted to send her far away. Far away from him. Far away from Tarkio.
Except, he couldn't set her out on her own with Big out there. If he was right and Cusclan was responsible for the fire, they'd use Twyla as a message for Tarkio—and she could die.
They'd kill her if only to hurt him.
He brought her to his chest, cupping her head with his hand. "Promise me you'll stay with me at the clubhouse."
"I will, but..." She pressed against him, but he refused to let her go. " Don't you think it would be better if I get an apartment or even room with someone? We can still see each other."
"Give me time to figure shit out." He kissed the top of her head and then patted her ass. "Once we get on the interstate, you'll take the lead. If you lose me, go directly to the police station and lay on the horn until someone comes out to help you."
She frowned. "Separated?"
"If we do."
"What do you think could happen—?"
"Just do what I said." He walked over to his motorcycle.
She needed to learn to listen without questioning. He couldn't be fighting with her every step if he was going to keep her safe.
Navigating the ruts on the trail, he rode away from Tarkio property and entered the highway. Guiding Twyla, he checked the traffic ahead and behind him, then moved into the left lane and signaled for Twyla to take the lead.
She passed him on the right, spending too long looking at him and not enough time on the road. He cut his speed and rode into the right lane, getting behind her.
His problems piled up. He hadn't had time to deal with Twyla's fight with her sister or find out what was going on between them. Still reeling from Tracy chewing him a new asshole for involving a woman in his life—a woman associated with Cusclan, pressure came from all sides of him.
Without informing Tracy of his reasons why Twyla was at the club, all he could do was assure her he had everything under control.
He glanced in his side mirror. Now that he was responsible for Twyla, the risks seemed too steep to use her as bait to draw Cusclan in. The fire was only one sign that the other motorcycle club would stop at nothing.
Putting his troubles aside, he concentrated on his surroundings as Twyla weaved her way down the streets in Missoula and parked in front of the clubhouse.
Curley stood outside with Hammer and Priest. He parked, walked over to Twyla's vehicle, and opened the door.
She studied him without saying a word. He cupped the back of her neck, letting her know that she and him were okay. That what bothered him had to do with the club, and not her.
"I'm going to talk to Prez." He lifted his chin, letting her know she should stay inside.
She frowned before walking away from him. He shut the door and approached the group.
"We've got a problem." He grabbed his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. "I took Twyla out to the cabin."
"This morning?" asked Priest.
"Just came from there." He opened the book of matches and lit his smoke. "Someone burnt the cabin to the ground."
"Fuck." Priest widened his stance. "When?"
"The rubble was cold. It's been a day or more. It's too hard to tell by the tracks in and out who has been there with all the ruts," he said.
"Cusclan," mumbled Curley.
Whip nodded. "That's what I figure."
"They're letting us know you took Twyla to the cabin." Priest looked over his shoulder at the clubhouse. "Now, she's here."
"They wouldn't try to burn down the clubhouse." Hammer crossed his arms. "There's too many of us here at any given time. They couldn't get close without one of us seeing them."
"That kind of thinking will get you killed." Priest exhaled heavily. "Cusclan is making their move."
Every motorcycle club in the Pacific Northwest and inner PNW knew the bloodthirsty club wanted to be bigger and more powerful than any other. Greedy sons of a bitches, they were moving while the iron was hot and the weapons were in their hands.
"They took using Twyla personal." Whip looked at each of his brothers. "I've already put my life on the line for her. She doesn't belong to Big. She never will. I'm not sending her away."
Priest walked away, stopped, and looked out on the street, then returned to them. "It's going to come down to mergers."
"No." Whip's body tensed. "That's bullshit."
The worst thing Tarkio could do was merge with another club to get bigger. There were over three hundred members. They could handle Cusclan. They only had to play it smart.
"Moroad is losing men left and right." Priest pulled his beard straight down. "Up in Haugan, Ronacks Motorcycle Club is already talking about ripping off the patch. Soon, Tarkio will have to decide what we're going to do."
"I'd rather die fighting." Whip's spine stiffened. "I'll never wear a Cusclan patch."
"You might not have any choice if we lose the upper hand," said Priest.
His lip curled. He wouldn't do that in honor of his family. He'd rather be six feet deep than go with those that killed his parents and ruined his sister's life.
Stepping back, he left the conversation. He wanted no part in dissolving Tarkio.
He walked straight to Twyla's bedroom. She'd left the door unlocked.
She raised her head as he entered. He made it to her in two strides. She stood. His balls constricted. He hated not being in control.
Undoing the snap on her jeans, he ripped the material down, taking her panties, too. She kicked her legs, freeing them of the material without questioning him. Turning her around, he pushed the upper half of her body forward until she was bent over in front of him.
Desperately needing to regain the control he felt slipping from his fingers, he grabbed a condom off the nightstand and undid his belt, yanking his jeans past his hips. Already hard, he put on the protection.
Grabbing her hips, he plunged inside of her with a hardness he always held back, too afraid of hurting her. She needed to know. She needed to feel. She needed to understand.
Twyla meant more to him than he could give her.
Tarkio needed him.
And, he needed her.
Chapter 19
Twyla
Brandy stepped closer. Twyla looked at the other waitress, seeing her stare out the front window of Mama Jean's Pie Shoppe.
"Am I going crazy, or does that biker sit out there every day?" Brandy closed the pie case. "I mean, I haven't worked in two days, but last week, when I was here, he hung around the entire time."
Twyla gazed outside. "It's my boyfriend."
"What?" Brandy grabbed her wrist. "I thought you were going out with that one rough-looking dude. This one is hot."
She slipped her order pad into the pocket of her apron. Whip was off-topic and someone she wanted to keep to herself. The fewer people who knew about them, the better— since it seemed as if being around him brought all kinds of trouble.
"So...like did you cheat on him with his friend?"
"What?" She gawked. "No. He's someone from a totally different motorcycle club."
"I'm sorry. That was rude." Brandy grinned impishly. "What do you do, go around to each club, looking for boyfriends?"
Wounded by the comment, Twyla pressed her lips together. It wasn't that way. She hadn't looked for a boyfriend or set out to meet Whip. He'd approached her.
"Hey, I'm only teasing. Don't take anything I say seriously. I'm the one without a boyfriend and have no room to talk." Brandy shrugged. "Your guy is sexy. Like, seriously, hunky. Does he have a friend?"
She opened her mouth and couldn't find the answer. There were a lot of Tarkio members, but there were danger and secrets and a lot of things a normal woman wouldn't find appealing.
"Not really," she mumbled.
Whip's so-called friends were more like brothers. They were fami
ly to him.
Not having good relationships with her mom, dad, and sister, she envied the closeness and affection she witnessed at the clubhouse between the men and even the women.
Heaviness settled in her chest. She turned away from the window. "I need to use the restroom. Will you cover for me?"
"Sure. It's almost time for your break, anyway. Go ahead and take your time." Brandy caught her arm before she could escape. "I'm sorry. I was being funny about your boyfriend and didn't mean to hurt your—"
"You didn't. I'm fine." She managed a smile, wanting the conversation to end.
Absconding to the back of the restaurant, she dived into the bathroom and shut the door. Because of the way Whip made her feel, she'd ignored a lot of the reasons why she was made to stay at the clubhouse.
She'd easily believed Whip about the danger to her because she'd seen Big's dominating personality herself. But, they were bikers. Personality-wise, Whip and Big was different. But they both worked for their respective club.
For the last couple of weeks, she'd accepted staying at the clubhouse because she had nowhere else to go, and Whip wouldn't let her go look for a place to rent on her own. Leaving the bathroom, she went into the breakroom and got her purse out of the locker.
Pulling out the piece of paper with Ringtail's phone number, she sat down by the phone in the corner of the room and called her sister. Something was bugging her, and she had no one she could ask but Angie.
Hating to make the call, but knowing she wouldn't relax until she found out, she held the receiver to her ear and listened to the rings.
"Yeah?" answered Ringtail.
"Can I talk to Angie?" she asked, clearing her throat.
He paused. "Yeah, hang on."
She tapped her foot. Every time she turned around, she made the wrong decision and got herself deeper in a bind. She hoped asking her sister for help wasn't another one.
"Hello?"
"It's Twyla."
"What do you want?"
She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply before staring at the wall. "Is Ringtail listening?"
Her sister's silence gave her the answer she needed. Twyla lowered her voice. "Can you take the phone somewhere we can talk in private?"
