Chapter Five
“YEAH, PREZ, I expect we’ll pull into town early this evening.”
Saint leaned against the cement wall outside their motel room. The early morning sun warmed his face and boded well for another good day of traveling weather.
“Why don’t you come straight to the clubhouse. Shell and I will be here all day,” Copper said.
Saint rolled a small rock back and forth beneath his boot as his suspicions rose. Straight to the clubhouse, huh? “Uh, Prez, Shell isn’t planning some big welcome home thing for Beth, is she?”
Copper grunted. “Nah. She wanted to, but I managed to talk her out of it. Figured y’all would be tired from the trip and whatever the fuck else you’re not telling me. Wasn’t sure Beth would be up for it.”
Yeah, that sounded like Copper. Grumbling and suspicious but not pushing, yet.
Saint still didn’t know Beth all too well.
Most of their time had been spent in peaceful riding, and even when they’d been in the motel rooms, Beth had stayed quiet for the most part, processing the shift in her life.
They’d chatted, but mostly surface level, and mostly him filling her in on the tea back at home.
He hadn’t tried to force her to open up, mostly because he hated when someone did that shit to him.
What she needed was time, and he was happy to be a silent supporter if that was what she needed or to fill the silence with clubhouse gossip.
A rowdy party with all the attention on her didn’t seem like it would go over too well, given her current introspective state.
“Yeah, good call,” Saint said. “I think she’ll need some time to adjust to being back home and might not be ready for a big party.”
His stomach twisted. Copper wasn’t a fool.
He’d played along when Beth called yesterday, telling him she was overworked and under-rested and that was why she’d been off lately, but he sure as hell didn’t buy it.
A man didn’t run a group of outlaw bikers for two decades without developing a Grade-A bullshit detector.
Still, Saint had made her a promise and wouldn’t break it unless absolutely necessary.
“Fine,” Copper said with a rumbled sigh. “Keep your secrets. I appreciate you heading out there and convincing my daughter to come home more than fucking anything, which is why I’m not pushing you on this.”
“I get that.”
“But if I find out you’re keeping shit from me that I need to know…”
Fuck. He didn’t need to finish the sentence to make the Hell’s Handlers brand on Saint’s forearm tingle. The patch meant more to him than anything, but the thought of his family, his place in the club, and the risk of jeopardizing those relationships was like a knife to the gut.
Yet there he was hiding something he knew Copper would want to know.
Beth’s bruises weren’t as spectacular as they’d been that first night, but she’d need a good deal of makeup or a goddamn turtleneck in the middle of the summer to hide them from her father’s savvy gaze.
Or her mother’s.
Hell, sometimes Shell scared him more than Copper. His president might be lethal as fuck, but Shell handled the big guy with the ease of a knife gliding through melted butter.
“I hear you loud and clear,” he said. Once Copper found out how Jason had abused Beth, and he would find out, Saint was fucked.
“All right. Just making sure. Back to tonight, we are doing a barbecue, but it’s super casual, typical weekend shit with no focus on Beth.”
Saint nodded as though Copper could see him. “Yeah, that should work.”
The motel door opened, and Beth popped her freshly washed and dried head out. “That my dad?”
Saint nodded, then passed her the phone when she held out her hand.
She stepped outside, and his eyes nearly fell out of their sockets. Dressed in baggy jeans and a tiny fucking tank top that hugged her like a second skin and left enough skin on display to be nearly obscene, she looked like temptation wrapped in sin.
He had to press his tongue to the roof of his mouth to keep from trying to lick her. How the fuck was he supposed to survive a whole day on his bike knowing the body pressed against his back was a few severed threads away from being naked?
“Dad, Saint is being a perfect gentleman, so you can stop threatening him,” she said into the phone, utterly oblivious to the growing problem in his jeans.
Why did she have to be so damn sexy?
If she’d been any other woman in any other circumstances, he’d have backed her into that motel room and fucked her until they were both too exhausted to ride a few hundred miles on a motorcycle.
Instead, he’d get to feel those full tits on his back all day while he fought to keep his blood circulating through his entire body.
Wonderful.
“Dad, I’m fine. I swear it.” Beth rolled her eyes as she tried to soothe her overprotective father.
If Beth was fine, then Saint was a damn teddy bear, but he kept his mouth shut. Beth was an adult. She didn’t deserve him telling her what to do, especially not two days after escaping a violent and controlling relationship.
“Yeah, okay,” she said. “A Tennessee barbecue at the clubhouse sounds great. Been too long since I’ve had Mav’s famous ribs. Yeah… okay… I will. You need Saint again? Okay, then we’ll see you tonight. Love you too. Bye.”
She ended the call, then handed his phone back.
As he grabbed it, their hands brushed, and electricity shot up his arm, raising the hairs.
Beth sucked in a breath, then lifted her gaze to his.
For one second, they stood frozen, locked in a heated stare-off until his phone chimed, breaking the spell.
Beth stepped back, clearing her throat. “Ready to go when you are.”
Saint nodded. “I’ll get our shit loaded on the bike, and we’ll take off.”
Four hours later, he was in hell. Complete and utter hell.
He took an exit to refill his gas tank and give them both an opportunity to stretch their legs, but mainly to preserve his sanity.
Most of yesterday, Beth had sat straight behind him with her hands on his waist, enjoying the scenery.
Today, she’d decided to try her hand at becoming a sadistic tormentor.
At his insistence, she’d thrown a leather jacket over her skimpy top, but kept it open and leaned fully into his back.
She was a small woman, short and on the thinner side, but by no means a twig like so many women these days.
She had a softness to her that melted against him and made his eyes roll back in his head.
Her ass and tits were the things of men’s fantasies, and feeling her nestled against his back all day while her thighs cradled his hips was a cruel and unusual punishment.
He’d battled a raging boner for most of the ride.
He wanted to fuck, and he wanted to fuck Beth, but his dick needed to get the message that it would never happen. Instead of sticking around for the barbecue, maybe he’d head to a local bar and find some willing woman to work off his sexual energy.
If he were smart, he’d go straight home and make up for days of missed work. He had a stack of recovery orders waiting on his desk back home. Deadbeat car owners didn’t repo themselves, and he’d already lost a week’s pay on this trip, not that he’d change a thing.
As soon as he pulled up alongside the gas pump, Beth hopped off, grinning. “I’m gonna hit the bathroom and grab some snacks. I’m in the mood for something sweet. Want anything?”
You. Naked and spread-eagled in my bed. Nothing would be sweeter than the taste of you.
“Just grab me a Diet Dr. Pepper, if you don’t mind.” He pulled a twenty out of his wallet and held it out to her.
Beth rolled her eyes. “It’s a soda, Saint. I can cover it.”
He raised an eyebrow but didn’t put his money away. After a fifteen-second stare down, Beth huffed and snatched the bill from his hand, muttering something about stubborn bikers as she strode toward the convenience store. The way her ass moved in those damn jeans should be illegal.
“Fuck,” he muttered as he stared up at the sky. No lightning bolt came down to smite him or solve his problem, so he turned to the pump and got to work filling the tank.
By the time the meter stopped, Beth was back and munching on a Twizzler. Her plump lips looked obscene wrapped around the red candy, and his cock twitched with jealousy.
Three hours. Just three more hours. You can do this.
“I’m gonna hit the bathroom,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. They were at a busy travel station that seemed safe enough, but the thought of leaving Beth out there alone didn’t sit well with him.
“Don’t even think about it.” She narrowed her eyes and pointed at him with a Twizzler. “I’m a big girl, and I can wait here all by my big-girl self while you piss, Saint. I’m not following you inside and standing outside the bathroom like a child.”
“Babe, you don’t know—”
“Don’t you babe me. I’ve lived with you, alpha bikers, my entire life. I know how you operate. No one is going to kidnap me in broad daylight with a dozen vacationing families all around.” She waved him away. “Go. Pee. I’ll stand right here like a good girl. Promise.”
“I’m starting to think you are the furthest thing from a good girl,” he muttered, which earned him a sassy smirk.
Yeah, she was trouble, and once she was fully back to her old self and moving past her relationship with Jason, the entire club was fucked.
He stepped close until he loomed over her, but made sure she had plenty of room to escape if she felt uncomfortable. Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath as she arched her back to peer up at him, but nothing in her posture read as fear.
“Your sweet ass better be right here when I get back,” he said. “Don’t move even one inch from this spot.”
“Um… yeah… I’m not going… I’ll be here.” Her cheeks flushed an appealing shade of pink as she sputtered.
“Good.” He winked, then headed off to the building, not trying to hide his smirk. Pretty sure he won that round.