“Find anything in the portfolio?” She came up beside him, and he couldn’t stop from brushing one of the loose strands of hair back from her face. The sharp scent of primer took the edge off his desire, and he was finally able to untangle his tongue.
“No. But your work is exceptional.” She’d always been artistic, which was why he had been so unsure of the gift he’d made for her graduation. Although he knew her as well as one person could know another, he’d worried it wasn’t good enough … that he wasn’t worthy. Just like her father had said as he beat Zane by Stanton Creek after finding him with Evie.
“You’re nothing and you come from nothing. You’ve got nothing to offer my daughter. No future. No skills. Hell, you couldn’t even finish school. All you got is a trailer full of drugs, an addict for a father, and shit for brains.”
Perversely, he’d been happy for Evie, thinking at least her father cared, despite the fact that he spent very little time with her. But then Zane said the words that started the whole devastating chain of events. Angry words. Four words he wished he could take back the moment they dropped from his lips.
I know about you.
Zane had known that Evie’s father was on the take for years. Once a month, Sheriff Monroe showed up at his dad’s trailer to pick up a few kilos of coke and then transport them across state lines in his cruiser. And it wasn’t just drugs. He had his hands in the underground arms trade, too, not to mention all the nights he spent in the massage parlors in Stanton’s red light district.
But Zane had never told Evie about her dad’s extracurricular activities. Not because he felt any loyalty to his old man, and not because he was scared of Sheriff Monroe. But because Evie adored her father. She thought he was a hero. An honorable man. She forgave him all the nights he left her alone with her alcoholic mother because she thought he was out protecting Stanton’s citizens and saving the day. Zane couldn’t take that away from her, couldn’t bear to hurt her by shattering the illusion.
It was only the night Sheriff Monroe showed up at his trailer with a gun, that Zane realized his mistake. A man without honor or compassion wouldn’t understand that Zane would keep the secret from his daughter. Desperation drove a man who was afraid.
“Thanks.” She put down the spray gun. “I never made it to college, and I sort of fell into custom painting when one of my friends asked if I could paint something on her husband’s motorcycle as a surprise for his birthday. He recommended me to his friends and it sort of spiraled from there. I never thought about it as a career until I went to a motorcycle show in Helena with a couple of my pieces and met Bill. He offered me a job in Conundrum, and…” She bit her lip, hesitating. “It was the right time for me to leave Stanton.”
“Ever think about setting up on your own?” Zane leaned against the table, all thoughts of a paint job disappearing when she pulled out her elastic and rubbed a hand through her hair.
So beautiful. He wanted to run his fingers through those red-gold strands, feel that silky softness in his palm. And then he wanted to twist her hair in his fist and hold her head still so he could ravish her mouth, or better yet, her body. She had curves that could bring a man to his knees.
Her cheeks flushed and she looked down as if she knew what he was thinking. “Um … no. I’m comfortable where I am. This setup gives me a good source of customers. Plus, now that I’m a part owner, it’s my shop, too.” Pride shone in her eyes and Zane smiled. She had never been one to hide her emotions.
“So what do you think happened to Bill?” He gripped the tabletop behind him to keep from walking toward her and enacting his fantasy right here, right now. What the hell could he talk about that would keep his desire at bay?
Her smile faded. “I’m not sure. Connie and I thought maybe the Jacks scared him away. He was—” She cut herself off with a grimace. “Never mind.”
Zane filed that one away for later. Only way the Jacks would scare a man away from his business was if he’d done something to piss them off. Was he paying them protection money or had he got something going on the side? Damn stupid if he did, and even more stupid if he had put Evie in danger. The minute Bill showed up again, Zane would be taking him out for a little talk about keeping Evie safe.
“You got a bike?” He was scrambling now, trying to avoid the real reason he’d brought her here, and it wasn’t for paint.
“No. Can’t afford it. One day though. Maybe when I make it big I’ll buy myself a present. Mark has a Harley Fat Boy, which is a pretty sweet ride.”
Ah. Mark. Now that effectively killed his desire. Zane released the table and folded his arms. “What does he do?” Middle manager? Sportscaster? Or was he still a coach after all these years?
A pained expression crossed her face. “I wouldn’t know.”
“You don’t know what your husband does?”
“Ex-husband. I left him a few years ago to move out here.”
“You’re not married?” His voice cracked and he drew in a ragged breath. She wasn’t married. His Evie was … free. “What about his boy? Doesn’t he come to see him?”
Her voice tightened. “No.”
Their eyes met and the air crackled between them, as if her last word fanned the flames that had been smoldering since that moment on the porch when all he wanted was to drown in her arms.
“What kind of father doesn’t want to see his son?” For all that Zane hated his father, and for all the abuse he had taken, when Zane needed him most—the one and only time in his life—his father had been there for him.
Evie tilted her head to the side and stared at him, considering. Then she twisted her hair around her finger. Around and around and around. Zane remembered that little quirk—something she always did when she was anxious.
“A stepfather,” she said, finally.
“He’s not Mark’s boy?”
A gunshot cracked the silence, and then another. Zane’s heart pounded and he slid his hand into his cut, closing his fingers around his gun. “Stay here until I come back for you. Hide.” He ran back into the store and spotted Shooter just outside the front door, firing his gun into the trees.
“Who is it?” He shouted from the cover of the doorway. “You see Axle? One of the Jacks?”
“Squirrel.” Shooter yelled. “Red tail. Tricky little bugger but I got him trapped in that bush.”
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Zane ran over to Shooter and grabbed his wrist. “Put the weapon down.” He unleashed all his tension in a volley of curses directed at Shooter, his mental state, his mother, and his dubious parentage. “This is a surveillance mission. That means you don’t draw attention to yourself. You don’t shoot things. Gunfire has a nasty tendency to rile up civilians and then they call the cops. And right now the ATF are camped out in the sheriff’s office. You want to explain to the fucking ATF why you’re shooting squirrels on private property?”
“He was on your bike, gnawing on your seat.”
“Gimme that gun.” Zane grabbed the weapon and fired three shots into the bush. “Take that, you goddamn fucking bastard,” he hollered. “You wanna eat my leather? Now you’re gonna be eatin’ crow.”
“You missed.”
Zane handed him the gun. “You got a new job now, prospect. Clean my seat, fix the leather, then bring me that fucking squirrel’s hide.”
“Yes, sir.”
Adrenaline pounded through his veins as he returned to the store, whether from the shoot-out or finding out Evie had split with Mark he didn’t know, but damned if he could get himself under control. He took a few deep breaths as he crossed through into the shop, clenching and unclenching his fist by his side.
“Evie?”
“Here.” Her voice was faint. “Can I come out now?”
He followed her voice to a storage closet at the far end of the shop and found her reaching for something on the top shelf.
“I figured I’d tidy up while I was in here and I saw a box of paint I’d forgotten about. Could you get it down for me?
” Half in the shadows of the small, musty room, she looked back over her shoulder. “I’m not quite tall enough.”
Zane walked up behind her and grabbed the box. His body brushed up against her, his hips against her ass, his chest to her back, his chin brushing over her floral-scented hair.
Walk away. Walk away. Walk the hell away.
He slid his free hand around her waist and pulled her against his body. So perfect. So right.
“Zane.” Her voice came out in a choked whisper.
“You’re not with Mark?” He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear, inhaling her scent of jasmine as the adrenaline streamed through his veins, straight down to his groin.
“No.”
His hand splayed over her stomach, pulling her close, and he nuzzled the hair away from her neck. “You got a man, Evie?”
“No.” Her voice wavered. “But … I kinda…”
He shoved the box onto a lower shelf and reached around to catch her jaw in his hand, pulling her head back against his shoulder, exposing her neck to the heated slide of his lips. Somewhere, in the foggy recesses of his mind, he knew he was being too rough, but he was barely in control and rough was as gentle as he could be. “So no one’s gonna shoot me between the eyes if I do this?” With his thumb he gently stroked the underside of her breast.
Evie sucked in a sharp breath, trembled. “No.”
His hand slid higher, tracing over her ribs until he held the full weight of her breast in his palm. “You gonna stop me from touching you, sweetheart?” He feathered kisses along the column of her neck, praying she didn’t deny him because he was already so far gone he didn’t know if he would be able to stop.
“Zane.” She shuddered, her nipples peaking beneath her thin cotton tank top. He circled one taut nipple with his thumb and she groaned and wiggled her ass against his erection, nestled tight in the crack of her cheeks.
“Stop me, Evie,” he whispered. “Because I can’t stop myself.”
She melted against him with a sigh, her body softening. For the briefest of moments he soared, higher and higher, soaking in her light, her warmth, her essence …
He should have known what would happen if he flew too close to the sun.
* * *
“I can’t do this.” Evie pulled away, her cheeks burning with a flush of heat. She knew Zane, the dark, passionate, slightly awkward high-school senior who made her stomach flutter when he smiled; the boy with a good heart who’d been dealt a bad hand in life; her protector and one-time friend. But this man … this biker—broad and heavily muscled, tatted and pierced, ruthless and dominant, who walked and talked with confidence and swagger, and so easily manipulated her body, awakening long dormant passion and desire—was a stranger to her.
A stranger who made her body respond with a single touch. A stranger who ignited a blazing hot chemistry that made her feel alive. A stranger who had disappeared when her father’s body was still warm on the ground.
Zane released a tortured breath and turned her to face him. “Things didn’t go right between us when we met the other day. We had things we needed to say, and we didn’t get to say them.” His corded throat tightened when he swallowed. “Ask me, Evie.”
Emotion welled up in her chest, pushing the words to the tip of her tongue. Although she knew the question was a betrayal in itself, she needed to hear the truth. For Ty. And for her own peace of mind. “Did you kill my dad?”
“No, sweetheart. It wasn’t me.”
Her breath left her in a rush, her knees giving way. If not for his arms around her, she would have fallen to the ground.
“In my heart I knew, but I needed to hear it,” she whispered.
“And I needed to say it.” He brushed a rough finger over her cheek. “After I saw you again, and we had words, I thought we were done. I thought I wouldn’t be able to get over the fact you didn’t wait for me. But I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When I was at your place, and T-Rex had his hands on you…” He drew in a ragged breath. “We’re not done, Evie. I don’t expect you to forgive me for leaving the way I did, and maybe one day I will understand why you didn’t wait and forgive you, too, but I will never be done with you.” He cupped her face between his hands and kissed her.
At first, his lips were soft, hesitant, as if he thought she might slap him again, but when a low moan escaped her lips, he deepened the kiss, pulling her closer as he ravaged her mouth. Evie wrapped her arms around him and molded her body against his as she met every desperate stroke of his tongue with one of her own. His grip tightened and when she tried to pull away, gasping for breath, he nipped her bottom lip, demanding more.
Shocked by the intensity of her reaction, she wrenched herself away, the rapid rise and fall of her chest matching his, but when she took a step back, he followed, one hand curled behind her neck, the other gentle on her hip as he pressed his lips to her temple. “I got shit to do tonight, but I need to see you again. I’ll swing by your place tomorrow night.”
Her blood chilled, and not just because she wasn’t ready for him to meet Ty. “You can’t. I … I have plans.”
“Cancel them.”
God, those two words, demanding and confident, laced with expectation and desire, did strange things to her stomach. If it had been anyone else she had agreed to meet for dinner, she would have done as he asked. But she had no way of contacting Viper other than making a trip to his clubhouse, which she wasn’t prepared to do, and as Connie said, he wasn’t the kind of man to blow off in such a casual manner. Plus, she needed some distance. Kissing Zane had never been in the program.
“I can’t.”
“Then I’ll find you.” He didn’t wait for a response. Instead he reached over her for the paint box, then took her hand and led her out of the closet, as if he could keep her from running with only his touch.
It would be so easy to give in, pick up where they left off, introduce him to Ty and play happy families, if outlaw bikers had happy families. He seemed so sure of himself and what he wanted, but he had broken her heart, and it had taken her far too long to get over him. Giving him a second chance wasn’t just stupid, it was dangerous, especially since he hadn’t changed. Deep, dark, and emotionally intense, he still took what he wanted with a total disregard for rules and authority. As a boy, he did what he had to do to survive, but as a man, he had made lawlessness a way of life.
Not the kind of life she wanted … for her or for Ty.
“I don’t want to rush into anything. We’re not the same people anymore.” She gestured to the door, although the last thing she wanted was another ride on his motorcycle, with the motor vibrating between her legs and his hard body tucked up against her breasts. “I don’t know Zane the biker, just like you don’t know Evie the mom and painter. It’s like meeting someone new, but with all our past baggage tacked on. I’ve moved on and I’m just not looking for anything or anyone. I have a nice, normal, quiet life now. I’m happy as I am.”
He studied her, as if he could see into her soul and pluck out the lies. “Don’t tell me you didn’t feel something, because I know you did. After all the time we spent together, I know what it means when you bite your lip, and when your cheeks flush pink. I could feel your heart pounding in your chest, same as mine. And yeah, I don’t want to remember the past either, and especially not the day I saw you with Mark and your son. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing between us, Evie.”
“Evangeline.”
“You’ll always be Evie to me.” He shoved the door aside and let her pass before yanking it closed. “Doesn’t matter how many times you tell me, I can’t call you something else, especially after I had to listen to nine years of you moanin’ about how much you hated that name.”
Zane checked out the parking lot while she locked up, and then they joined Shooter at the bikes. But before she could climb on the seat, Zane put out a warning hand.
“Prospect. What instructions did I just give you?”
“Um … you wanted you
r seat cleaned and repaired and the offending rodent…” He glanced quickly at Evie and then back to Zane. “Managed.”
“So why are there teeth marks on my seat?” Zane gestured to the leather saddle and Evie squinted. Although the light was low, the seat looked perfect to her.
“Um … well … his teeth were pretty sharp and I didn’t know how to repair the leather. I cleaned and polished it, though.”
Zane folded his arms. “My girl’s not ridin’ on rodent marks. How’s she gonna get home?”
His girl? Hadn’t he been paying attention when she told him she wasn’t looking for anyone? And what about Viper? Although the more time she spent with Zane, the less interest she had in pursuing that relationship.
Shooter shifted his weight and grimaced. “Taxi?”
Poor Shooter received a cuff to the head. Evie cringed on his behalf. She knew from biker books and television shows that prospects were given the worst jobs and the least respect during the time they were pledging to the club, but she hadn’t expected Zane to be quite so harsh.
“You want me to take her on my bike?” Shooter asked.
Alarmed at the way Zane’s hands curled into fists, Evie slid onto the pillion seat of his vivid black, Harley Night Rod Special. “This girl’s ass isn’t so precious that it can’t withstand a few teeth marks. Let’s ride.”
Zane turned his anger and outrage on her. “I’m teaching the prospect a lesson.”
“And I have a son waiting for me to pick him up.”
He glared at Shooter as he mounted his bike. “Clubhouse. One hour. And you better be standing on the drive with a repair kit in one hand and a squirrel pelt in the other. Fucking rodent disrespected my girl.”
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