Chapter 5
Chapter Five
They made it out of the diner and to the bike when the waitress suddenly appeared, calling out, “Sugar!”
He turned just in time to see her holding the to-go order he’d forgotten about. Leaving Sunday by the bike, he walked back over to her.
“Thanks, sweetheart. Completely slipped my mind.”
“No problem. Come back and see me sometime, sugar.”
“Sweetheart, I’ll definitely come back around. Now get on back inside—I want to watch you walk away.”
She flushed a deep shade of pink and gave a little playful hip-swing as she turned and sauntered inside. If she didn’t throw out a hip, she’d be lucky.
Texas smiled and turned back to the bike, but Sunday scrunched up her face in disbelief, appalled.
“Why’d you say that to her?” she asked, voice sharp.
“Because no matter how old a woman gets, she still wants to feel desirable.”
Sunday eyes narrowed. “You told her you’d come back.”
“And I probably will. They had a damn good breakfast.” Texas smiled, then glanced at her.
“I’m gonna give you my helmet to wear. We need to hit a shop and get you one. Cops don’t cut riders slack without lids.”
“There’s an aftermarket shop just two streets over.”
“You ride?”
“I have, back in the day. I know that place ’cause I’ve seen it.”
He stuffed the bag into the bike’s luggage compartment and clicked it shut.
“Alright, let’s get moving.”
Having Sunday know how to ride would make things a hell of a lot easier.
Teaching a new rider the how’s and why’s was always daunting to Texas.
He’d tried plenty of times giving women rides—none ever quite got it right.
They learned when they shouldn’t, when they wiggled too much because their asses started to ache, or tensed up at the wrong moments.
Eventually, he’d stopped taking passengers altogether.
Straddling the bike, he gave Sunday a nod to climb on. She was so light he barely felt her settle into the seat behind him. Just one quick stop for a helmet, then they were on the road, heading north toward Bay.
Texas noticed Sunday moving slowly across the parking lot as they made their way toward the clubhouse.
Four hours on a bike, combined with her already sore body, was taking its toll.
Without a word, he took her pack from her and hoisted it over his shoulder, pushing them forward.
He wanted her inside—away from prying eyes.
“Are you sure this is a motorcycle clubhouse and not just a house?” she asked, glancing up at the two-story building.
Texas knew exactly what she meant. The place looked more like a family home than the rough-and-tumble clubhouse of the Royal Bastards MC North Bay Chapter.
“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said, eyes scanning the building.
They hadn’t gone far when the front door swung open, and Lynx—the chapter’s president—stepped out. Texas approached and extended his hand.
“Lynx. Appreciate you boys letting us crash here.”
“How long you staying?” Lynx asked, eyes sharp but concerned.
“Just tonight,” Texas replied firmly.
“You both look beat down. Long run?”
Texas glanced down at Sunday as he adjusted the bags.
“Yeah, all the way from New London,” he said, stretching the truth to build a bigger alibi for himself.
“Picked up Sunday on my way here,” he added casually.
“PA? Wait, did you say New London, PA?” Lynx shook his head, chuckling. “No wonder you two look wiped. You should be ashamed, putting a woman on the back of your ratty bike.”
“Yeah, I was over there doing some work,” Texas said, grinning. “And there’s nothing wrong with my bike. She’s sexy.”
“Are we talking about the bike or your girl? Cause that bike ain’t sexy.”
“That’s enough. Keep insulting my girl, and she might not start for me later.”
Lynx’s grin softened as he glanced at Texas defending his ratty ride.
“Come on in. I’ll show you where your rooms are.”
Texas felt Sunday grip his hand firmly. “Lynx, you got something with two beds?”
Lynx shot Texas a hard look. Two beds? “You think this is the Holiday Inn or something?”
“Nope,” Texas said, nodding toward Sunday, watching Lynx’s expression grow guarded as he looked at her.
“I’ve got a room I think will work,” Lynx said, waving them forward and leading them down the hall to a room at the back.
“Is Jessikah around?” Texas asked. Lynx had recently gotten himself an Ol’Lady, and Texas hoped she’d be around to help Sunday feel safer here at the clubhouse.
Lynx eyed Texas, curious why he wanted to know if his Ol ’Lady was around. Then his gaze shifted back to Sunday. “I can ask her to stop by,” he offered.
Texas placed a hand gently on Sunday’s back. “Let me check what time I’ve got to run my errands first.”
“Sounds good,” Lynx said with a nod.
When they stepped into the room, Texas felt Sunday’s relief wash over her as she spotted the two single beds pushed against opposite walls. Dropping their bags onto one of the beds, Texas gave a nod of thanks to Lynx as the brother closed the door behind them.
There was something on Texas’s mind—an unspoken question burning under the surface. He pointed to Sunday’s backpack. “Where’d you get all this stuff? And the clothes you’re wearing?”
Texas wasn’t one to pry, but Monday had told him Sunday was found naked, covered in dirt, and confused. So, where the hell had Sunday gotten the clothes and that backpack? If she was lying and this was just a wild goose chase to catch a free ride back to Montreal, Texas would be pissed.
Sunday sank onto the bed, exhausted. Monday would murder her if she found out—maybe Texas wouldn’t.
“I went back to Dalton’s while he was at work,” she said quietly, “and grabbed this stuff out of the garage where he’d thrown it.”
Texas dropped his chin, shadowing his face as he stared at her. Was she out of her fucking mind? “Were you temporarily insane?”
“Yes,” she said simply, easier than admitting she knew exactly what she’d been doing.
“Why risk your life for some clothes?”
“He took everything from me. I wanted—”
“Clothes?” Texas interrupted, incredulous.
“No. Yes. No.” Sunday got up and paced the small room, searching for words to explain her reckless choice. None of her reasons sounded rational—not even to herself. She shrugged, struggling to make sense of it all.
“I wanted my toothbrush, my hundred dollars, my Swiss cake from the garage.”
Texas just stared, stunned. Nothing she said added up. Why did it matter so much?
Because Monday had been worried sick over her sister, and Sunday had thrown caution to the wind—risking her life—for a toothbrush and a Swiss cake.
Texas was about to start bitching when he caught sight of Sunday shaking uncontrollably. Her brain was finally catching up with everything that had happened—what she’d been through and what she’d done over the past two days.
She stopped pacing, and without thinking, Texas wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight until the shaking slowed.
When it finally stopped, the crying began.
It had been years since he’d held a woman like this—broken and raw—and the unfamiliar weight of it settled over him in a strange, quiet way.
“How long will we be here?”
“I need to get some sleep. You need to get some sleep,” Texas said, running a hand gently over her narrow back. He could feel how thin Sunday was. She didn’t look like the girl in the picture Monday had sent—her eyes were duller, her hair lacked its usual luster, and she was definitely thinner.
“I’ve got some things to take care of here before we head to Montreal.”
“Okay.”
Texas let Sunday step out of his arms and immediately hated how empty they felt. “I need a shower. You good here for a few minutes?”
“If you say I’m safe, I am.”
“You’re safe.”
“I won’t go anywhere.”
Texas gave her a small, tired smile as he picked up his bag and stepped toward the door. Closing it behind him, he shook his head in disbelief.
“She went to her ex’s house for a toothbrush, a hundred bucks, and a Swiss cake.”
There was no other way to put it—she had to be going through some kind of mental break.