Raw: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Minutemen MC)

by Evelyn Glass

Stephan watched him, intrigued. “I would love to see him cowering in fear before you,” he admitted, chuckling. “But no, Dirk. The last thing we need right now is to piss off our own allies. Still,” he hurried on when Dirk opened his mouth to protest, “you’re right, we need to be ready, and we need to do it sooner than we first thought. First, however, we need to reassure the men.”

  Dirk frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “They’re nervous, Dirk. What happened to Alex really shook their confidence. That the Tar Mongols would attack us in our own homes is a first. It makes everyone antsy, afraid even.”

  “Afraid?” Dirk savored the word in his mouth. He didn’t like its taste on his tongue.

  “Wouldn’t you be?” Stephan countered. “They’ve got kids, Dirk.”

  Dirk sighed heavily. He supposed he had to admit that it was a scary situation. Knowing that the Tar Mongols wouldn’t even stop for children was putting a whole other and much darker spin on the entire situation. Still, he didn’t like seeing his club’s vulnerability shine through so plainly.

  “So what do you suggest we do?”

  “We gather them around,” Stephan said immediately, in the determined, confident tone of voice of someone who had given this some thought. “We keep them close. We rebuild community, a sense of family and security.”

  “And how do we do that?”

  “We create events.”

  Dirk stared at him in disbelief. “What, so now you’re a party planner, too?”

  Stephan rolled his eyes impatiently. “Shut up,” he said, short and clipped. “I mean dinners, breakfasts, watching the game at the headquarters. It’s been a while since we’ve focused on simple things like these. The men need to feel we’re a whole again, that they’re not isolated. It’ll make them stronger.”

  Dirk thought it over. He supposed it was a good idea, and besides it was worth a try. “All right,” he said. “What about the rest? The fighting part of it, I mean.”

  “Oh, we’ll fight,” Stephan said, hazel eyes sparkling in the light of the dawn. “We’ll fight to the death, if necessary, but we are putting a stop to Herman Ruiz.”

  Dirk toasted his president with his mug of dark coffee. They didn’t say anything else; there was no need to. They knew each other too well. They had a common goal, and they were both on the same page regarding what to do in order to reach it. Dirk was a dark man, and he knew that behind his good looks and easy smile, Stephan was an even darker individual. They knew blood and they knew violence. And they were both tired of it.

  Dirk finished his coffee and stood, stretching out his sore muscles. It had been a long night.

  “I’d better go and check on Camilla,” he announced.

  Predictably, Stephan grinned. “Why am I not surprised?”

  Dirk rolled his eyes. “She’s had a long night. I want to make sure she’s doing all right. She won’t be of any use to us if she starts to panic.”

  “Fair enough,” Stephan admitted. “But we both know there’s more to it than that.”

  “Possibly,” Dirk conceded, and he ignored the surprised look that crossed Stephan’s face at that admission. “I also want to talk to her and make sure she doesn’t do anything this stupid ever again. She almost got me killed.”

  Stephan’s features darkened. “Perhaps I should have a word with her, too.”

  Dirk shuddered at the thought. “Not a good idea.”

  Stephan frowned. “Why not?”

  “I’m trying not to scare her. You’re fucking terrifying when you’re angry.”

  Stephan laughed. “Touché,” he said. He looked immensely pleased with himself.

  Dirk shook his head fondly and left him to finish his coffee. He walked upstairs and found Johnny guarding Camilla’s door as instructed.

  “Is she in there?” he asked.

  The younger man arched an eyebrow at him. “No,” he said sarcastically, “I’m guarding an empty room.”

  Dirk stared him down.

  Johnny winced visibly. “Sorry,” he offered. “I’m a little on edge.”

  Dirk nodded curtly. He squeezed the young man’s shoulder and reached past him for the door handle. He knocked before entering, and he took a deep breath before going in. Secretly, he was absolutely dreading this conversation.

  ***

  Camilla looked up sharply when the door opened, and she couldn’t help but jump.

  Dirk held up both hands in a placating gesture. “Relax,” he said. “It’s just me.”

  Camilla nodded curtly. She had taken a long shower after she had been taken back to the guest bedroom, but it had not helped. She felt shaken and jumpy, like danger was lurking behind every corner and anything could happen—which she supposed it really could. She guessed it had always been that way since she had first set foot in the contended territory of the Minutemen and the Tar Mongols. However, for some reason it had never quite hit her like it finally hit her now that she had been so close to being seriously harmed.

  “May I sit down?” Dirk said, gesturing to the armchair near the window.

  Camilla nodded from where she was sitting at the foot of the bed. She was only wearing a bathrobe, but she couldn’t care less. She had the feeling this encounter would not be about sex. Besides, it wasn’t like she was feeling particularly sexual herself.

  “How are you feeling?” Dirk asked, watching her carefully.

  “I’m all right,” Camilla replied immediately. She didn’t want him to know just how scared she had been—how scared she still was.

  Dirk looked at her doubtfully, but to his credit, he refrained from commenting. “I talked to Stephan,” he said after a moment. “He’s not happy about what you did. Neither am I, to be honest.”

  “So what?” Camilla said. She had reached a point in her shock where she simply didn’t care anymore. “Are you going to kill me now?”

  Dirk blinked, taken aback. “Of course we’re not going to kill you.”

  Camilla nodded. “Good,” she said. “Then I don’t give a fuck about what you or your precious president thinks.”

  Rage flashed across Dirk’s face, but Camilla wasn’t affect by it like she had been in the canyon. The shock was numbing her feelings, giving her a kind of courage that wasn’t really courage at all, just emotional inertia—but she would take it. She would take whatever she could get that wasn’t pure, utter dread.

  “You almost got yourself killed,” Dirk said, quite unnecessarily. “Fuck, you almost got me killed. You can’t pull stunts like that, Camilla. We’re trying to protect you.”

  “Oh, spare me!” Camilla finally snapped. “Enough with this ‘we’re just trying to protect you’ bullshit. You’re keeping me here because it’s useful to you.”

  “That, too,” Dirk admitted. “Look, what do you want me to do? Should I have not come after you? Should I have let them—?”

  “No,” Camilla said sharply. “Of course not. Just…don’t feed me crap anymore, okay?”

  Dirk watched carefully. He must have understood that, underneath Camilla’s anger, there was a genuine request, because eventually he nodded. “All right,” he said. “From now on, you’ll have full disclosure. But I want the same in return.”

  Camilla watched him warily. She decided that this was the best deal he had offered since it all began. “Seems fair,” she said. “Full disclosure it is.”

  “We’re not gonna lay low now,” Dirk said after a moment. “We’re going to strike before they can. We’re going to rebuild our troops, give them their confidence back, and then we’re going after those sons of bitches and put a stop to this.”

  Camilla looked at him with a mixture of hope and horror. “Really?”

  “Really. We can’t risk Ruiz attacking first again.”

  Camilla sighed heavily. “I don’t know, Dirk…I still think letting me go would be the best option for everybody.”

  “Maybe,” Dirk conceded. “Admittedly, it does make sense. But it’s not the solution.”

  �
��Why not?”

  “Don’t you see?” Dirk asked, and Camilla really didn’t, so he went on, “It’s bigger than you now. It’s bigger than your TIME story. In fact, it’s got nothing to do with you at all anymore. You’re just a pretext, an excuse. Even if we did let you go, Ruiz would still find a reason to keep coming after us. He won’t stop now. We’ve started a fight to the death, and we all know it. We all want to see it through, whether you’re here or not.”

  Camilla looked at him. “Well,” she said after a moment, “it sounds to me like all the more reason to let me get the hell out of here. You’ve said it yourself, I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

  Dirk gave her a smile that seemed almost a fond smile. “He’d kill you,” he said. “It doesn’t matter how much escort I’d give you, he’d still find a way to kill you before you’re on a plane for New York. Do you think it’s a coincidence that you ran into two Tar Mongols in the middle of the desert, in the middle of the night?”

  Camilla stared at him. Her stomach twisted in a kind of fear that was becoming all too familiar of late. “It’s not?”

  Dirk snorted. “Of course not. They’re on the lookout for you. Ruiz probably figured you’d try to escape sooner or later. He was ready for it. For you.”

  Camilla shuddered. She swallowed hard and, despite her best efforts, she let her vulnerability show through. “I really don’t want to die, Dirk,” she admitted quietly.

  Dirk grimaced. He got up from the armchair and walked over to sit at the foot of the bed with her. He placed his large, callused hand over her. The warmth gave her immediate comfort, which she had not been expecting. God, but she both hated and loved the influence he had on her! It was like no matter what she did, she could not remain unfazed by him.

  “You’re not going to die,” Dirk said, fiercely. His blue eyes were ablaze with the promise he was making her. “I swear, Camilla. Nothing’s gonna happen to you. I won’t let it.”

  Camilla swallowed hard. She wanted to kiss him. But there was something more pressing that came back to her mind with that one promise of his.

  “I’ve got to ask you something,” she began carefully. “You’re not going to like it, but I…I have to know.”

  Dirk frowned and pulled his hand away, pulling back slightly, already wary. “What is it?”

  Camilla took a deep breath. “Who’s Eleanor?”

  She watched as the color drained from Dirk’s face. She had expected shock, but not of this magnitude. She instantly regretted her question, but it was too late now to take it back.

  “Who told you about Eleanor? Where did you hear that name?” Dirk’s voice was rough with an emotion too big for him to be able to conceal it.

  Camilla licked her lips nervously. “The men in the canyon,” she said, hating herself for even having brought it up. “They said Ruiz killed one of your…women,” she couldn’t bring herself to repeat the exact word those two bastards had used. “They said he…uh…well.” She couldn’t bring herself to repeat the story, either.

  “He raped her,” Dirk said. “He kidnapped and raped her and then he slit her throat. And he had her body delivered to my doorstep.”

  Camilla’s insides grew cold. “Who was she, Dirk?” she asked quietly, hating herself even more for not being able to stop now that this awful ball was rolling.

  “Eleanor was my fiancée,” Dirk said. “Ruiz killed her three years ago.”

  Camilla’s eyes widened. She felt a lump squeeze her throat at record speed, but she forcefully swallowed it back. “I’m so sorry, Dirk,” she said when she could finally find her voice again. “I…I didn’t know.”

  He gave her a small, heartbroken smile. “How could you?”

  They lapsed into silence then. Camilla didn’t know what to say. What did you say to something like that? So she didn’t say anything. She reached out and covered Dirk’s hand with her own like he had done for her a moment ago. To her surprise, he laced their fingers together and squeezed her hand.

  They stayed like that for a few moments, and then Dirk disentangled his fingers and stood up. “You should get some sleep.” He stared her down from the towering height of his six foot five measure. “Don’t pull something like this ever again, Camilla. I mean it.”

  Camilla nodded. She had no trouble agreeing to it now. “I won’t,” she said. “I promise.” She held his eyes to make sure that he could see that she was being sincere.

  He nodded, satisfied, and then he silently left the room.

  Camilla watched the door close behind him, and then she let herself fall backwards onto the mattress. Her head was pounding, her mind was swirling with everything that had happened and the information she had just received. How horrible it all was. She had known that Herman Ruiz was ruthless, but she had not had any clue on just how ruthless. He was more beast than man, really.

  She hoped Dirk was right. She hoped he really could keep her safe, and that they really could put a stop to this. She didn’t approve of club business and bikers’ gangs, but she couldn’t not approve of a plan that would rid the Earth of Herman Ruiz. Everyone surely would be better off without him roaming about.

  Camilla couldn’t help but replay the night’s events in her mind. What would have happened if Dirk hadn’t showed up when he did? She shivered at the mere thought. For all that, she had been an investigative reporter for a while now, she had never been so in danger before. She felt like a rookie on her first case. She didn’t know how to act, how to speak to these people.

  She thought of Stephan Walker and his inner darkness that she had caught the very first time she had spoken to the man. She hoped his darkness would be able to overcome Ruiz’s. And she hoped the darkness she had glimpsed within Dirk back at the canyon wouldn’t swallow him whole.

  Chapter 25

  Gunshots are a funny thing. We’re exposed to them from a very early age—(hopefully, if you’re lucky, the exposure only comes from television)—and without even realizing it, we start associating them with something cool. We associate them with action, with the heroes, with the good guys—from John Wayne to Han Solo.

  “That movie is so cool! It’s got tons of guns and explosions!” This isn’t a rare comment to hear when it comes to defining the “cool factor” of a film.

  Camilla Hernandez could never see the appeal of guns and gunshots, and she had begun to appreciate them even less after she became an investigative reporter; she had seen way too many corpses with a bullet in their brains or their chests. These days, her aversion had escalated to the point of utter loathing.

  The movies never told you just how loud gunshots really were in real life. The sound feels like the echo of your eardrums and heart exploding at the same time. At least, that’s what it had felt like to Camilla. She dreamed of that sound at night sometimes. That loud, unforgiving sound. It was a sound of no return.

  Of course, given her line of work, she had heard plenty of gunshots in her time. But it had never been so loud. It had never been so personal. No one had ever been shot so close to her before. Until the night, four days ago, when she had made an escape that had gotten her out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.

  Try as she might, Camilla couldn’t get the image of Dirk shooting the two Tar Mongols dead out of her head. Of course, she was immensely grateful to him for taking care of her would-be rapists, but she also couldn’t ignore the fact that he had dismissed the two as if it were nothing. Dirk had pulled the trigger and ended the life of two men as casually as if he were having breakfast. There had been little-to-no expression on his face as he ignored the second Tar Mongol’s pleas and put a bullet in his skull.

  “Listen, sweetheart, this is war,” Dirk had said, as if that justified anything. “This is how we do it in the Mojave Desert.”

  Apparently, in the Mojave Desert, men died without anyone thinking twice about it. Yes, Dirk had saved Camilla’s life, but she couldn’t say that she felt much safer now. The realization that this was way bigger than she had first as
sumed had landed upon her the very next day—after Dirk had taken her back to his place. The shock had knocked her off her feet with the same force of those bullets. This was indeed war, and she was smack in the middle of it.

  More gunshots exploded in her ears, and Camilla sat up in bed with a gasp. Her gaze roamed about the darkened bedroom, her eyes wide and wild. There was no one in the room, of course. The gunshots had been in her head, just like they had been for four days now, and they might as well have everything to do with the deafening pounding of her heart within her chest.

  Camilla took a deep, ragged breath and ran a trembling hand over her face. She pushed her long hair back and felt it was damp with sweat. Briefly, she considered the possibility of trying to go back to sleep, but what was the point? More gunshots would probably be waiting for her in dreamland anyway. She swung her legs over the mattress and stood, grabbing the thin robe from the nearby chair.