by Debra Kayn
The biker rode closer. She ignored the new arrival and grabbed the back of Big's vest with both hands, using all her weight to pull him away from the driver's seat.
"Get out of my car." She groaned as her muscles protested.
Big was triple her size. She couldn't budge him.
Bang.
Her ears rang, deafening her to all noise except the incessant ringing tone.
She let go of Big and covered her head, dropping to her knees.
Her heart raced, and panic filled her. Prying her eyes open, she caught sight of Big's boots moving past her. He ran toward his motorcycle.
Aware that someone had shot a gun, she looked in the other direction. The oncoming biker roared toward her. She tilted her head, squinting, trying to see who it was when bright flashes came from a raised gun.
She screamed, ducking her head and pressing herself against the wheel of her car.
Dust choked her. She coughed. Big had ridden away, sending the floor of the forest airborne.
She whimpered, covering her face. She'd take Big over one of the other Cusclan members finding her alone.
The biker stopped a few yards from her. Her body shrank against the tire, seeking any kind of protection she could get.
The engine quieted. "Sis?"
She whined, not daring to peek. It wouldn't be Whip. She'd left him.
"Twyla." Hands landed on her.
Recognizing the touch that always held her and never harmed her, she lifted her head and opened her eyes, barely able to make out Whip crouched beside her.
She stifled her sob of relief. Yet, she held back from throwing herself at Whip.
He'd been right the whole time. Big would hurt her.
"I hope you're ha-happy." She rubbed the back of her hand across her eyes, trying to clear the blind spot from her vision. "He was here, just like you wanted."
"Shut up." He gathered her in his arms, taking her to her feet, and then crushed her against his chest. "That's not what I fucking wanted."
He palmed the back of her head, keeping her solidly against the front of him. She leaned into him, exhausted from the rush of adrenaline still flowing through her body.
She closed her eyes, letting him hold her. Too tired to fight. She knew he'd used her to get Big to come to her, but she had no energy to fight him. She'd take two minutes of selfishness to gather her strength and shake off what happened, and then she'd lock herself in the car.
"Did he hurt you?" whispered Whip.
She shook her head, rubbing her cheek against his chest. "Only you hurt me."
Once she admitted how badly she wanted him, his rejection hurt her worse than any she'd experienced before.
She hadn't meant to fall in love.
She inhaled a tired breath and pushed against him. Her time was up. Whip wasn't around for her. He was here for Big.
"Go ahead, and go after him." She let go, sniffed, and stepped toward her car.
The door was open from when Big searched inside for his pistol. She reached behind the driver's seat onto the floor, where she'd tossed her purse. Grabbing the leather, she weighed the bag. The pistol was obviously still inside. She could tell by the heaviness.
At least she could still protect herself. The first chance she got, when she no longer had to watch out for Big harassing her, she was going to throw it out into the middle of the river and let it sink to the river bed.
"Sis?"
She kept her back to Whip and dropped the purse. "Just go away."
"I'm not leaving."
She sighed. "You got what you wanted. Big came to me when I was alone. You should be jumping for joy that you were right or...going after him. Both of those things you can do without me."
Arms wrapped around her from behind. She stayed still, too comforted by his body to fight.
"I never wanted Big around you." He pressed against her back. "I was trying to keep you safe."
He couldn't have it both ways.
He'd used her to draw Cusclan Motorcycle Club to the Tarkio clubhouse. Away from there and away from him, anything could happen. No one would be around to protect her but herself.
If he cared about her, he should never have put her in that position.
And that hurt worse than her altercation with Big.
Chapter 22
Whip
Twyla's back bowed, and she rested her head against the roof of the car. Whip turned her around. The car was too small for him to sit in and hold her, and right now, all he wanted to do was have her back in his arms.
"Come with me." He held her hand and went over to his Harley.
Grabbing the flashlight out of his duffle, he cast a beam of light ahead of him and led her over to the make-shift firepit.
He let go of her hand, using his matches to start the wad of paper she'd placed under the sticks, and got the fire going. Once he was sure it would remain lit and add some warmth to the night, he sat down on the ground and stretched his legs straight out in front of him.
Twyla stood where he'd left her. He hooked his hand behind her thigh, guided her down, and then moved her until she straddled his legs and faced him. Pulling her to his chest, he cupped her head and pressed it down on his shoulder. Only then was he sure she could relax and use his warmth to stop the trembles that rolled through her.
The fire, on his right, snapped and crackled as it consumed the green branches.
Twyla gave up the fight of staying away from him and molded her body against him, twining her legs behind him. He rubbed her back. It wouldn't surprise him that through all of the excitement tonight, and after working a full eight hours earlier, she'd fall asleep. He'd never met a person who could slip into her dreams the moment her eyes closed.
His chest thrummed, having her with him after the fear of losing her. He loved her spirit, thrived off her temper, and loved her passion. She had enough of everything to make her stand out from other women, and she owned it all.
Damn, she was strong. She'd stood up to him and everyone in the clubhouse, fighting for herself, not worried about the consequences, with no concern for her personal safety.
Priest wanted him to let Twyla go. In his head, he knew he should. It would be easier for her if she was far away from Missoula.
But he couldn't let her go. He wouldn't.
For most of his life, he'd given everything to Tarkio. He'd spent four years in prison to protect his sister because of the actions of Cusclan.
During that time, he fought for someone else. He protected someone else. He gave up his freedom for someone else.
But now he wanted Twyla, and he wasn't willing to give her up to someone else.
"My sister was sixteen years old and home with my parents when Cusclan Motorcycle Club members broke into the house. It was close to midnight, and while my sister was sleeping, the two men held my parents at gunpoint," he said into the dark of night.
Twyla's body stiffened, yet she never moved.
He stared into the flames, remembering that night as if it was yesterday. "My sister woke up and walked into the dining room and witnessed them shoot my mother because they knew it would destroy my dad to see the one woman he loved more than life die in front of him. My father, having seen my sister come into the room, moved to protect her. They shot him as my little sister screamed his name, begging the killers not to kill her daddy."
His heart pounded, knowing what he had to tell her next could change her mind about him. He also knew that he would go to the grave, protecting his sister. It was detrimental that no one, especially Cusclan, finds out that his sister, at sixteen years old, found the strength inside of her to pick up their dad's rifle and shoot the two Cusclan members as her parents lay on the floor in front of her, taking their last breaths—saving her own life.
"I arrived home and shot the motherfuckers who killed my parents, and in return, I spent four years in prison," he said, continuing the lie.
He might not have committed the crime, but there were crimes he'd co
mmitted since. Too many to count.
Anyone who loved him would have to know what he was capable of doing.
Twyla lifted her head. He pressed her back down to his shoulder. If he had to look in her eyes and see the disgust on her face, it would kill him.
"You asked if I used you for a chance to kill Big." He blinked, looking away from the fire, letting his vision adjust to the dark. "The truth is, I did. I convinced you to stay at the club, hoping your presence there would bring Big and the rest of Cusclan into Missoula and try to attack Tarkio. Within the city, we could overpower Cusclan. We could protect you."
His throat tightened. That was then.
During the time she'd stayed at the clubhouse, he'd grown closer to Twyla. His feelings toward her had changed.
"Today. Yesterday. Three weeks ago. After getting to know you, I wouldn't have done that to you," he whispered. "Not now."
He let go of her head. She straightened, looking him in the eyes. He tremored, holding on to her hips, making sure she wouldn't leave him.
Her gaze traveled back and forth from his right eye to his left eye. He vibrated at the bond they had. This was Twyla. His Twyla.
"What changed your mind?" she said, her voice soft and breaking.
"If you would've stuck around and not threatened to shoot me, I would've told you that somewhere between fucking you and when you'd fall asleep in my arms each night, I realized, I love you." He swallowed. "Probably back at the cabin or when you paid for that elderly couple's pie last Wednesday from the tips in your apron or when you tried to shoot Big or when you held Bethy's hand and led her to me at the clubhouse."
Her gaze softened. "You never said anything."
"Because there are men that are better for you than me." He paused. "But, I can guarantee that none of them could love you the way I do. I'd kill any one of them that tried to love you."
"You would?"
He kissed her surprised lips and murmured. "You know who I am. You know what I want. Tell me you still want me."
She sucked in her breath and exhaled. The air caressed his face, and he groaned in impatience, needing to know if he blew any possible chance with her.
"I'd hate to have to kidnap you and bring you back to the clubhouse and lock you in the bedroom," he murmured, inhaling the scent of her.
She shivered. Unaware the fire had gone out until then, he pressed his lips against her neck.
"Please, stay with me," he whispered. "I'll get down on my knee—no, I'll get down on both my knees and beg you because I'm nothing without you."
"What about Big?" Her neck muscles spasmed. "Aren't you going after him?"
"Not tonight." Knowing that he had something more important waiting for him, going after Cusclan could wait until tomorrow. "Right now, I want to take you back to the clubhouse with me and make sure we're all right."
"Wait." She grabbed the front of his vest.
She stayed on his lap. He dipped his chin, trying to catch a glimpse of her face.
Finally, she raised her gaze. Tears glistened in her eyes. His breath caught in his chest. He wasn't expecting that.
Yell at him. Hit him. Hell, shoot him. None of those reactions would've affected him the way he viewed understanding in her eyes.
"I'm sorry..." She moistened her lips. "About your parents."
His hands tightened on her hips. He hadn't even talked about their murders since that night. Not even with Tracy.
There wasn't anything he could do to bring them back or change the outcome. All he could do was wait for the day that Cusclan paid for what they'd done.
"Let's go home, sis." He set her on her feet and stood. "Are you okay to drive?"
Knowing she was exhausted and her ability to fall asleep if she closed her eyes, he worried about her driving alone in the dark.
"I'll be okay." She hesitated. "Are you okay?"
He kissed her forehead. There it was again. The reason why he loved her.
"I am now that you're with me again," he whispered.
Once he had her settled in the car, he walked over to his motorcycle. Putting his mind on the trip back to the clubhouse, he was aware that he was a sitting duck for Big.
All he had to do was get Twyla back safely. After she was on Tarkio property and inside the building, he'd deal with what happened tonight.
Cusclan would learn not to touch what belonged to him.
Chapter 23
Twyla
Angie walked over to the pool table in the clubhouse. Twyla glanced at her sister and continued lining up her shot.
She missed. Straightening, she grinned at Whip and planted the cue stick on the floor between her feet.
"I told you I sucked." She eyed Whip as he leaned over and hit a ball in the corner pocket with ease.
A thrill shot through her. He had the cutest butt.
He walked over to her and kissed her. "But, when you suck, you make me happy."
She slapped his ass, laughing at his one-track mind. He chuckled, going to the other end of the pool table. Over the last several days, he'd relaxed more.
It was good for him to take some time off from watching her. Sitting outside the restaurant while she worked wasn't the easiest job. Boring, taxing, and lonely, the hours were long.
Longer for him than her. At least she stayed busy and had customers to keep her occupied.
"Are you going to continue to ignore me?" asked Angie.
She took her turn at pool. "Do whatever you're doing. Don't mind me."
"You act innocent." Angie moved closer, lowering her voice. "But, you're up to something."
She watched Whip instead of facing her sister. "Why don't you ask your boyfriend or anyone here what I'm doing? You're not going to believe me."
"You're my sister."
She looked at Angie. "I'm your sister when it's convenient for you."
"That's not true."
She swallowed the bitterness left over from a family life that was less than stellar. Even if she could tell Angie about what was happening to her, she wouldn't. It was only Whip and Tarkio Motorcycle Club's business. Angie knowing or not knowing wouldn't change what was happening and could endanger the lives of those she'd grown to care about.
She believed Whip's reason for bringing her here and changing his mind once he fell in love with her. How could she not? She could understand why.
Falling in love had caught her off-guard, too.
Besides, it was nobody's business how they felt toward one another, and she wouldn't have her sister ruining her relationship with Whip.
Whip walked in front of her. "You're up, sis."
She strolled around the table, trying to line up the best shot at putting a ball in the pocket. As she bent over and put her stick on the table, she viewed Whip talking to Angie out of her peripheral vision.
Distracted, she scratched, totally missing the ball. Stepping down the length of the table, she picked the cue ball out of the pocket and walked over to Whip.
He turned as she approached. She held out the white ball and plopped it into his hand.
Angie turned without saying a word to her and walked away. Whip frowned. His displeasure wasn't aimed at her.
"Just ignore her." She leaned against the wall. "That's what I do."
"She's nothing like you." Whip stepped closer, pinning her against the wall. "Give me a kiss."
Happy to do that, she stretched to her tiptoes and kissed him.
He wrapped his arm around her lower back, lifting and holding her higher. Pressed against his hard body, she forgot about the others in the room. Sucking his tongue, she let go of the cue stick and looped her arms around his neck.
Her feet left the ground. Her ass landed on a flat surface. She opened her eyes and quickly shut them at the brightness of the light hanging over the pool. Whip hooked his hand behind her thigh, lifting her leg up to hug his hip without missing a stroke of his tongue.
She squealed into his mouth, shocked that he would put her on the pool tab
le. He ground himself between her legs, and her eyes rolled back in her head. There would never be a day that she got enough of him. Even if they stayed in bed for twenty-four hours, she would always feel like she wanted more.
Slipping her hands under his vest, she went searching for the hem of his shirt and found bare skin. She moaned, wrapping her other leg around him.
Opening her eyes, she flinched, remembering where she was. She pushed against him. "Whip." Hit with arousal, she kissed him again before breaking apart. "We can't." She arched, not wanting to stop the flutters multiplying inside of her. "Not here."
He pulled his head back, stared at her with half-lidded eyes, and slid his hands under her armpits, removing her from the table in one fell swoop. She swayed. He pulled her from the room, leading her down the hallway, and opened the door to his bedroom.
As soon as they'd talked the other night, he'd moved her into his room permanently. No more going back and forth from room to room. She gave him no argument. Knowing more about him only made her want to be with him constantly.
A growing fear that something would happen to him stayed with her.
The door shut. She unsnapped her shorts and shimmied out of them, taking her panties with her. Her gaze never leaving him as he stepped over and grabbed a condom, and put his pistol on the bed.
Her stomach fluttered at the sight of his ass. She had the urge to squeeze his butt through his Levi's. Compared to the man, that part of his body was small and tight and utterly fascinated her.
She loved to watch him walk. Sometimes at work, she'd spot him out the window as he patrolled the parking lot or tinkered on his Harley while he waited for her, and that butt stopped her in her tracks each time.
The clink of his buckle coming undone left her gasping. He turned toward her, wearing his jeans low and rolling on a condom. Her womb clenched. He was the sexiest man.
His mouth crashed onto her mouth, and he plunged his tongue. He kissed her with the passion they'd started on the pool table, and she unleashed what she was forced to hold back around the others.
He growled into her mouth and turned her around. Pulling back his head, he guided her in front of him and put her on the bed. Her knees cushioned by the mattress, she tossed her hair behind her.
