Chapter 7 #3
“Already thought of that.” I risk removing one hand from her, and with the other, slide my gun out of my belt. “We reach the door, you stick behind me while I check the coast’s clear. And if he is waiting, he’ll be eating a bullet. Problem solved.”
“You’d do that?” Her eyes open wide.
“A nefarious stranger on Kings’ property? You can bet your fuckin’ ass that I would.”
In a hurry, wanting to get back to the clubhouse and relieve myself of the burden I seem to have picked up. I again start tugging her along.
“Stop.” I pause momentarily. “I need my purse.”
“You don’t need anything where you’re going.” Then, thinking that statement could be misconstrued, I quickly add, “I’ll get one of the brothers to bring it later. For now, I just want to get us out of here.”
She’s not happy, but I don’t give her any option but to come with me.
At the door, she hangs back, no more eager to expose herself than I am to get our money cow shot.
Brazenly, I exit, remembering if Malachi’s out there, he’ll be looking for a woman, not a man in a Kings of Anarchy cut.
The worst he’d do is question me. But the early morning sun beats mercilessly down on an almost deserted parking lot.
Only my bike sits forlornly in the one occupied space.
I move out, checking all around, even working around to the front of the building to be sure.
For now, it seems, Malachi has given up.
Returning to where I’d left her, I half expected her to have disappeared back inside, but some of my words must have resonated with her, as she’s still standing there.
“All clear. Come on.” I lead the way to my bike, grabbing my helmet and doing the decent thing, and pass it to her.
She steps back, shaking her head. “I can’t ride on that.”
“Sure you can, doll.” I want her on my bike as little as she does.
Never before have I been tempted to take a bitch as a backpack.
But unfortunately, needs must. Given the risk that Malachi will indeed be tearing the town apart trying to find her and may well circle back to Royals, I don’t want to waste time calling a prospect to bring a truck.
I mean, if he took out Ames now, there goes any opportunity for the club to make money.
When I look at her again, her head is still moving side to side. “I’ve never ridden before.”
“Well, honey, I’ll try and make your first time good.” I purposefully make my voice sound suggestive, and to top it off, I wink.
I’m actually surprised when she doesn’t slap me around the face. Her tightened features warn me she wants to.
“If I have to get on that murder machine, then take me to Satin’s and my apartment. There’s no need for me to go to your clubhouse.”
My brows rise. “You fuckin’ kidding me? Take you to the woman who was conveniently absent last night? Who didn’t answer her phone when she was asked to come and talk you out of the closet? Who might be in league with your brother?”
“Satin wasn’t feeling well. And she’d never betray me.” She’s so fucking stubborn. My hands itch to spank her ass. That isn’t being violent, is it?
“Never say fuckin’ never, doll. Anyone would do anything for money.
Now come here.” Time for talking is over.
I plonk my brain bucket on her head and do the straps up for her.
Then I swing my leg over the saddle, get settled, push out the passenger foot pegs, and then demand, “Put your foot here.” I indicate the peg on the left that I’ve just pulled out.
“Place your hand on my shoulder and mount up. Once we get going, keep your legs away from the pipes. They’ll get hot. ”
Seeming to have given in to her fate, she doesn’t argue further but tries to comply with my instructions. I must admit I’d forgotten that too-short skirt Royals demands she wears all but ties her thighs together. When she realises it, she pauses.
“Just pull it up around your hips. No one’s going to care if you’re showing some ass.” I just hope she doesn’t remember it’s Sunday, and it will be the churchgoers getting an eyeful.
Watching in the rearview mirror, I see her face go bright red as she makes the adjustments.
Once she’s behind me, I don’t give her time to have second thoughts.
I switch on the engine and start moving, realising the instruction I’ve forgotten to impart when I see she’s trying to find something to hang on to.
“Put your arms around me, and hold tight,” I yell loudly to make myself heard over the engine.
As soon as she tentatively obeys, I kick down into first, open the clutch, and twist the throttle. As we leave the parking lot and I accelerate onto the road, I grin as I feel her arms tighten until she’s got a death grip around me.
It’s only then that I realise I’ve not only never ridden with a backpack, but I’ve also not had anyone riding pillion behind me, and yeah, the bike handles differently.
I don’t go mad until I adjust to the difference having her at my rear makes.
Then, as I get used to it, I open up the throttle and head for home.