Chapter 8
Lydia paced the far wall in the Royalla clubhouse, arms wrapped tight around herself.
The place had filled up fast as more members burst through the door and women began to show up.
Voices raised, and the clink of bottles echoed around her.
The air smelled like beer, body odor, and cigarette smoke.
Music thumped from somewhere in the back, but she hadn't spotted the speakers or who controlled the playlist.
The women hanging all over the bikers ignored her completely, walking past her like she wasn't even there.
The men didn't ignore her. Their eyes slid over her like she was something to pick up and pass around.
She refused to sit down. Sitting meant accepting her reasons for being here.
Being still meant she was giving someone a chance to touch her.
She wasn't giving anyone that chance.
Her stomach twisted as she glanced at the clock again.
Baddy had been gone for almost six hours.
When he dropped her off at the clubhouse, he told her he'd be gone for five hours at most. Two hours to reach Sonny's apartment, an hour to gather her belongings and secure his motorcycle, and two more hours to return to Vancouver.
Something must've gone wrong.
Her hand drifted to her back pocket, and she brushed her fingers against the handle of the knife she'd tucked there.
The handle stuck out too far. Anyone could grab it if they got close to her.
She shifted her body, trying to hide it better, but there was no good way to conceal it.
It was too warm in here to wear the used leather jacket that Sonny had made her wear when she rode the motorcycle.
She wanted to ask someone if they'd heard from Baddy. But she didn't know who he trusted within his club.
She kept pacing.
An older man approached her, gray hair pulled back in a low ponytail with a shaggy beard that hit his chest. His eyes smiled at her, even though his expression hadn't changed. He carried two mugs, steam curling up from both.
He held them out. "Coffee or hot chocolate?"
She hesitated, then took the coffee. "Thank you."
Before she sipped, she lifted it to her nose. The smell was strong, bitter, and normal, but she still hesitated.
The old man chuckled. "No one's gonna drug you, honey. Not here."
She wasn't sure if she believed him, but she nodded anyway.
When around Cusclan members, Sonny had always told her not to drink anything offered to her.
But it seemed different around Royalla members.
For one, it looked like everyone respected Baddy.
None of them tried to talk to or touch her after he ordered everyone to watch her while he was gone.
The man walked off, weaving through the crowd. A minute later, he came back, leaning in just enough for her to hear him over the noise.
"If you're more comfortable in the kitchen, you can hang out with me there," he said. "Less chaos."
Then he left again, disappearing behind a group of men arguing over a pool stick.
Lydia took a shaky sip of coffee. It burned her tongue, but the warmth steadied her nerves.
A shout erupted beside her.
She jerked back just as two men slammed into each other, fists flying. A chair toppled. Someone yelled at them to take it outside. Someone else cheered them on.
Lydia's heart leapt into her throat.
She backed away fast, nearly tripping over her own feet, and darted toward the kitchen. The moment she crossed the threshold, the noise dulled. The air smelled of spices and dish soap, not sweat and alcohol.
The older man stood at the counter, chopping vegetables as if the party in the other room didn't exist.
He glanced up when she entered. "Told you it was quieter in here."
Lydia pressed her back to the wall, clutching the mug with both hands, trying to breathe. What if Baddy never came back?
She had no idea how to leave Royalla Motorcycle Club or if they'd even let her.
"My name's Baker." The man dumped the vegetables in a pot. "Have you ever made stew before?"
She shook her head.
"Then, go ahead and pull up a stool and drink your coffee." Baker waved a knife in the air, but she wasn't threatened. "What's your name?"
"Lydia."
He dipped his head. "Pretty name for a pretty girl."
Lydia sat on the kitchen stool and wrapped her fingers around the warm mug Baker had given her. Inside the room, the noise from the members softened to a dull hum.
Baker hummed under his breath as he tossed chunks of meat into a pot with the ease of someone who was used to his way around the kitchen. The smell drifted through the room, wrapping around her like a blanket she didn't want to admit she needed.
Spending the last two years working at the restaurant had given her a place in her life where she was needed.
At the end of the day, her feet were tired, and all she wanted was a few hours away from people to regroup.
But mostly, having a job serving others gave her a connection with people outside of the biker world, yet it allowed her to keep her distance, so she didn't have to answer questions about her private life.
Mainly, she was happy to save money and looked forward to getting her freedom.
Now, it seemed as if everything had fallen apart, and she'd always be under someone's control.
First by Sonny, who always wanted to drag her with him when he was doing illegal shit with his club. And now, Baddy, who bought her for reasons he hadn't divulged yet.
For as much as her mom had forced Lydia to grow up fast by surrounding her with a rougher lifestyle as she hopped through boyfriends, she had no idea how she was going to get out of her current problem without a few scrapes and bruises.
She tried to focus on the food, on the warmth of the mug, on anything except the clock ticking on the wall.
Baddy had been gone too long.
Sonny was ruthless. Anything could've happened to him. For all she knew, Sonny could've killed Baddy. Would sending him there start a war between the two clubs?
She told herself she wanted him back because she needed her backpack, her clothes, her photo album, her money. She needed to pay him back and get out of here before she got tangled up in another club's activities.
But deep down, beneath the panic and the stubbornness, there was something else niggling her.
She was safer with him nearby.
She hated how weak that made her. Just like her mom, who fell at any man's feet when given any attention.
But yesterday and last night, he hadn't hurt her.
He hadn't even tried to enter the spare bedroom.
He'd given her a weapon to protect herself from him.
After she finally fell asleep, exhausted, tense, still half expecting Baddy to kick down the door, he'd let her sleep until ten this morning.
Then he gently woke her with a knock at the door and fed her as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
And the food...
Oh, my God, the food.
He made the whole house smell good. Made her stomach happy in a way she hadn't experienced since the rare days she'd splurged on a chicken meal at the restaurant after a long shift.
She took a deep breath, letting the smell of Baker's cooking calm her nerves.
He had the same skill. Steady hands, relaxed shoulders, and humming as if he loved every second.
She watched him chop, stir, and season, all with a quiet confidence she wasn't used to seeing in men like him.
A woman came into the kitchen and stopped, smiling at Lydia. "I see Baker's taking care of you."
Lydia rubbed her arms. This wasn't one of the bitches from the other room.
"I'm Roma. Kodiak's old lady." She moved across the kitchen.
Another woman entered the room. "There you are." She stopped. "Oh, I didn't know someone new was here."
"That's Baddy's guest." Roma removed a stack of paper plates from the cabinet.
"Cool." The woman held out her hand. "I'm Annie. I belong to Hunter."
She tried to picture them together and couldn't. Hunter was mysterious and quiet. Kodiak was dominating and scary.
"If you need anything, just let Baker know." Roma looked at the old man. "We'll be in the office."
"No problem. I got things under control." Baker went back to cooking.
The room quieted again, and she watched Baker, listening to the rhythm of the kitchen and the low hum of mayhem in the other room.
Caught up in her own thoughts, she startled when a hand landed on her shoulder.
She jolted so hard the stool scraped across the floor. Her heart slammed against her ribs as she spun around—
And then she froze.
Baddy stood there.
Dust on his jacket and windblown hair and beard, he was a welcome sight. Tired eyes studied her from head to toe and back up again.
Her breath left her in a rush that she hadn't meant to let out. Relief washed through her so fast it made her knees weak. He'd come back.
His expression softened. "Easy, sweetheart."
She swallowed hard, trying to pull herself together, trying not to show how much she worried about him not returning.
But she couldn't help it.
He was back.
And she could breathe again.