“Pull over,” I demand. No one ignores me. Ever. So when she shrugs rather than pulls over, the irritation must be clear on my face.
“No one told you to get in the car. I’ll slow down, but I’m not stopping. I don’t want to end up like Fuel.”
Anger rises inside of me, but I keep it contained. I need her to trust me and fill in the missing pieces. Letting my temper get the best of me is a sure-fire way to scare her. Then I’ll have to force it out of her. Nothing’s off the table, but I would much rather coax it out of her peacefully. “And how’s that?”
“You saw the blood. He’s dead.” Each syllable tumbled out of her mouth with a coldness of truth I can’t accept.
Dread settles in the hollow of my stomach. Fuel has landed himself in a deep pile of shit, but I won’t believe he’s dead until there’s proof. Something isn’t adding up. A few weeks back, he was pinched on a run. The Demon Sons are demanding retribution for losing their guns, and now this? I’m not sure yet if they are connected or how she’s involved, but I will find out. Someone owes me blood. I swear to the biker gods they will spill more than Fuel did. I will drain every single fucking ounce from the bastard behind this. “If he’s dead, then where’s his body?”
“I don’t know. You want out of the car? Jump.”
If I wasn’t so angry, I might laugh. This chick has a mouth on her I find rather refreshing. It takes balls to talk to me the way she does. While I admire her tenaciousness, I want to give her tongue several lashes with my own. My brand of punishment always fits the crime.
“I’m not jumping. I’m driving. You’re bleeding.” Drops of blood seep through the shirt fabric at her side. I’m not squeamish about blood. You can’t be and live the life I do. Violence and blood are second nature in the MC, but the sight of it on her makes my stomach turn.
“It hurts like hell too. I must have cut myself crawling through the window.”
“We can protect you. Just tell me who that man is and why he’s after you.” Whoever he is, whatever he is to her, he’s a dead man.
“I’ve said too much already. Trust me, you don’t want to involve yourself. I’m sorry about Fuel.”
Fuel may have just gotten in his way but when you fuck with one of us you fuck with all of us. “He went after one of mine, so we’re already at war. I can tell you care about Fuel, so tell me what I need to know to end this and bring Fuel home. We can help each other.”
“I survived this long on my own. I don’t need your help.”
“Fine, have it your way. Just pull over and let me take you to have that looked at. You could have pieces of glass in it. Then you can go.”
“Promise?” Her fake bravado cracks just enough to get a glimpse of what’s underneath. An untrusting woman, desperate to survive the mess she’s tangled up in.
She can act tough all she wants, but I’m tougher and I don’t make promises I don’t intend to keep. “If that’s what you want.”
She pulls the car over and reaches for the door handle. I reach over, grabbing her arm before she can swing the door open. “Climb over me.”
“Why?” She asks, confused.
I don’t answer. I don’t owe her an explanation. She’s the one with secrets and I can’t risk her running. I squeeze my hands around her waist and pull her toward me. She winces when my hands close around her waist, but she lifts herself obediently and climbs over. My cock hardens against her ass when she slides further onto my lap. I know she can feel it pressing against her. Hell, she might even like it, the way she takes her time shifting herself over my left leg. I intended to guide her to the passenger seat, but the devil in me wants to keep her there. The subtle wiggle of her ass against my erection almost does me in. This girl is no angel. She smells so fucking good, like sugar and sin. I breathe in her scent as she slides over my right leg, plopping her ass onto the seat cushion by my side. I tug at my hard cock threatening to rip through my jeans and slide behind the steering wheel. I miss the warmth of her body already, but she’s not mine to enjoy. Fuel hasn’t claimed her. I never even heard him mumble her name before. But he’s in trouble and until he’s found, I owe it to him to respect that. No matter how badly I want her.
I want to pull her back onto my lap, but I shake the idea out of my head. I pull the car onto the road. It’s been a long while since I’ve been behind the wheel. It feels foreign. Unnatural, even.
It takes all my self-control to not look her over. She’s hurt and I want to see how bad. I keep my eyes trained on the road, navigate this steel cage back to the compound before she changes her mind. I can make her if I have to, but I prefer for her to think it’s her choice. Once she’s on my turf, however, she won’t be leaving. I chose my words carefully. I never made that promise.
Losing the battle, I steal a glance out of the corner of my eye. There’s something deeper, darker behind her eyes that makes me question how deep into this she is. The choppiness and rushed dye job of her hair was clearly an impulsive move. The kind I’m wondering if she makes often or if she’s struggling to remain in control of a fucked up situation.
I force myself to look away, letting my eyes roam over the interior of the car instead of her. It’s an old car, yes, but it’s a classic. The glue from the dealership sticker is the only thing out of place. You can smell the polish on the dashboard and even the vinyl seats are pristine, glistening in the afternoon sun. I prefer the open air of my bike, over riding in a car, but I can appreciate the love she must have for this car. It’s the same way I feel about my bike.
“When did you get it?” I ask, pulling her out of the thoughts haunting her as she stares aimlessly out the window.
“What?” She asks, bringing her focus back to me.
I need to keep her focus or risk losing her to herself. “The car. When did you get it?”
“Two months ago,” the corners of her gorgeous lips tip up in a hidden smile. “I traded my old car for it at a small dealership in Lancaster right before I ended up here.” She lets out a sigh that rings like music to my ears. “My dad restores classic cars. I guess it reminds me of him.”
“Is he gone?” The instant I ask, I regret it.
Her lips curve into a frown. “No, but I had to leave them all behind. No one knows where I am.”
“Someone does.” I state colder than I meant to. “Maybe that’s how he found you.”
