Chapter 4
Savage wasted no time–he didn’t even let me into the motel room to grab a spare change of clothes.
“I’ve got shit you can sleep in. Get on.”
I wrapped my arms around him, pressed close, and soon we were zooming off into the night. As he maneuvered through the streets, my mind buzzed.
He was still a stranger, and yet when I was with him, I felt safe.
Yeah, he was a biker, and he fought in an illegal fighting ring . . . but I knew bad men.
I’d been married to one.
And Savage, for all his choices about how he lived his life, was a good man. Sure, he may have had his own moral code, but he’d literally placed his body over mine to protect me from rogue gun shots.
My arms tightened around him.
Apprehension curled through me when we arrived at a closed metal gate. Two men in jeans and leather cuts opened the gate and waved at Savage as he drove us through.
He parked in a gravel lot next to several other motorcycles and cut the engine.
I slid off the bike and unclasped my helmet. “Where are we?”
He took the helmet from me. “The clubhouse.”
“The clubhouse?” I frowned. “You don’t have an apartment?”
“Nah. Single guy like me doesn’t need one.” He lifted his leg and climbed off, setting the helmet on the seat.
I heard the faintest traces of music, but I couldn’t depict where it was coming from.
“There’s a party going on,” he said as if answering my silent question. “Doubt it’s rowdy yet since it’s only just past midnight, but by two a.m. it’s gonna be a rager.”
He clasped my hand in his and led me toward the porch.
“I don’t want to go to a party,” I protested.
He looked at me over his shoulder and grinned. “We’re not going to the party.”
I relaxed.
“Sorry about the mess,” Savage said as we stepped into the clubhouse. The kitchen and living room were an open floor plan and there were dozens of beer bottles, empty red cups, and bottles of liquor.
Toward the back of the clubhouse, I heard the screen door open and then close, followed by the clacking of high heels on wooden planks.
Two women with heavy makeup, teased hair, and short skirts entered the room. The brunette smiled in surprise, parting red lips. “You’re here!”
“Yeah,” Savage said easily. He tightened his hold on my hand and gently tugged me into his side.
“I’ve missed you, baby,” she purred.
My spine snapped straight, and I attempted to put distance between me and Savage, but he wouldn’t let me go.
“I’ve missed you too,” the blonde added. She linked her arm with her friend’s, her greedy gaze sliding down Savage’s body.
They didn’t even see me.
“Want to have a private party? With just the three of us?” the brunette asked, reaching over and gently cradling her friend’s breast.
I let out a squeak and my cheeks flamed in embarrassment.
“I’m good,” Savage said, his tone bland. “I’m sure some of my brothers can help you with the party you’re wanting.”
Without another word, Savage tugged me past them and all but dragged me up the stairs.
“God damn, she’s lucky,” one of the women said as we retreated.
Bile crept up my throat as their voices faded from existence.
We made it to the second floor and Savage pushed open a door. I stood at the threshold, refusing to go in.
“This is a bad idea,” I muttered, declining to look at him.
“Why?”
“Why?” My gaze snapped to his, my brows furrowing. “Because you clearly had other . . . plans. Plans that didn’t involve me. I’m ruining your night.”
He sighed. “If I wanted to be at the party with those women, I would be. But I’m not. I’m here, with you.”
I continued to examine him. His expression was relaxed, but his body was coiled tight, like he was ready to spring.
Finally, I nodded and went into his room. He came in behind me and closed the door.
The room was small, but tidy. A double bed was pushed up against one wall and there was a nightstand, a three-drawer dresser and a meager closet.
“The bathroom on this floor is communal. Don’t worry,” he smiled, “it’s cleaned every day, so you don’t have to worry about it looking like a frat house.”
He went to his dresser and pulled out a pair of boxers and a T-shirt and handed them to me.
“Uhm. Thanks,” I said, taking them. “But can I take a quick shower? I’m covered in beer.”
“Sure.” He went to his closet and reached up onto the top shelf and grabbed a clean towel. “Come on, I’ll show you where it is.”
He led me out of his room and traveled down the hallway to the bathroom. “The lock works,” he assured me. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll be in my room.”
I nodded.
“You hungry?”
I shook my head.
“All right.” He rubbed the back of his neck, appearing agitated. “Look, Evie, I—fuck, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think. I just brought you to a place where I knew you’d be safe. Those women?—”
“You don’t owe me an explanation,” I stated. “It’s done.”
He looked at me for a long moment and then he nodded. “Enjoy your shower.”
When I got back to Savage’s room, my eyes widened in surprise.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
He gestured to the pallet on the floor. “I’m sleeping down here. You can have the bed. I changed the sheets for you.”
“I can take the floor.”
“You’re shitting me, right?” he asked. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I made you sleep on the floor and took the bed?”
“You’re a gentleman?” I teased.
“My version of a gentleman, anyway.” He’d removed his leather cut and motorcycle boots, but he was still in his jeans. “How was your shower?”
“Good. Hot. I hope you don’t mind, but I borrowed some toothpaste and finger brushed with it.”
“That’s what it’s there for. Get in bed,” he stated. “I’ll tuck you in.”
I sniggered. “Tuck me in?”
His grin was wolfish. “Yeah.” His gaze dropped down my body, as if he suddenly wanted me naked.
I hastily climbed into bed and yanked the covers up to my chin.
Savage’s lips twitched.
He turned on the lamp before hitting the main light, bathing his angular face in a soft golden glow. Savage leaned over me and pressed his lips to my forehead, and before I could utter a squeak of surprise, he turned off the lamp.
“Good night, Evie,” he said.
“Good night,” I mumbled.
I heard him moving around in the room—it wasn’t completely dark because the window curtains were halfway open, letting in the moonlight.
His belt buckle jangled, and I held my breath when I realized he was stripping off his jeans. I closed my eyes and turned my face up to the ceiling.
When he settled down and things were quiet for a few moments, I asked, “Savage?”
“Hmm?”
“Those two women . . .”
“Yeah?”
“Have you—slept with them before?”
He paused for a moment and then replied, “Yeah.”
“I don’t understand then . . . why did you tell them to go to one of your club brothers. Doesn’t that make you jealous?”
“No, it doesn’t—ah hell . . .”
“What?”
“It’s just how the club operates. They’re club groupies, Evie. They’re not Old Ladies.”
“What are Old Ladies?”
“A biker’s woman. A wife or girlfriend. An Old Lady is a claim. It means she’s off limits and she won’t fuck around with anyone else. But Jessie and Anna aren’t Old Ladies, so they can spend the night with whoever they want. And no one gets jealous.”
I swallowed. “Are there . . . a lot of those types of women? Who hang around the club, I mean?”
“A fair amount, yeah.”
My heart dropped into my stomach. “Oh. And have you—I mean—never mind.”
“I have a past, Evie.”
“Yeah.”
So do I.
“You don’t like the idea of me being with other women, do you?”
I worked my bottom lip through my teeth as I thought about how to reply, but he spoke before I could.
“I don’t like the idea of you being with other men,” he admitted.
“This is a ridiculous conversation. Your love life is your business. Mine is mine. We don’t even know each other.”
He didn’t answer.
As I drifted off to sleep, I realized I wanted his love life to be my business.