Chapter 17 Natty
SEVENTEEN
NATTY
PRESENT
I was being impulsive.
No doubt about it. I really should have thought through this plan a bit further before hopping on the bike I’d been hiding for the past year and jetting off like a bat out of hell toward Richland.
I’d effectively lost the men Silas had put on me, which was good because they wouldn’t have made it past the gate.
No Death Raider would have been welcomed here, regardless that my very own cut had the grim reaper across the back.
The only reason they allowed me passage was because Sadie, Giles’s old lady recognized me.
The distant sounds from the club echoed through the large kitchen I was standing in. A woman named Gene was glaring at me as if I’d just stolen something from her. I knew she was carrying a knife behind her back in case I made any sudden moves, but I was holding one too.
“You’re saying you know Giles?” She lifted her chin toward me.
Understandably, one of the guards had let me in, but no one knew why. As soon as I was within those metal gates, everyone looked at me like I’d grown a third eye and then they scrambled, trying to grab me.
I said to get Giles, and they put me here to wait.
That was last night when I arrived in the middle of the night and was told Giles was on a run.
I was given some food and treated like an inconvenient prisoner, where I was watched, monitored and regarded warily for twenty-four hours.
Sadie had tried to come visit, but no one let her in.
Perhaps because they felt like I was a threat of some kind.
More likely though, they would have been in deep shit if they let something happen to their president’s woman.
“Giles was vice president of the Stone Riders before he became the president of your club. I’ve known him for years, so yes. I know him.”
Gene’s eyes narrowed further. “He has an old lady, so if you’re here to create trouble then I’ll—”
Oh boy. If only she knew that Sadie was one of my favorite Sweetbutts. We’d often take shots together, and she’d opened up to me about her frustration over Giles not claiming her.
“Natty?” Giles burst into the room, interrupting Gene’s little warning.
I turned and smiled at my old friend, then opened my arms as he stalked toward me and pulled me into a hug. Giles was stocky, only slightly taller than me, with dark blond hair and soft brown eyes.
“Hey Prez.” We separated, but I caught his blush. Being asked to take over the club for his cousin, Jameson, was a big ask, but there wasn’t another person better suited for it than Giles.
He searched my face, confusion warring with his features.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need help…and I sort of went rogue, so I’m calling in favors.”
Giles' eyes went wide after I’d mentioned favors, as if he was remembering the fairly large one he currently owed to me.
“Shit. Ya…whatever you need.”
I smiled and walked past him, only to stop when he choked on a gasp.
“The fuck, Natty. You aren’t serious.”
Turning on my heel, my brows dipped as I stared at him in confusion, but his stance had become guarded, and his gaze frozen, as if he’d seen a ghost.
“What?”
Pushing a hand through his hair, he let out a strained breath.
“I always assumed he was just obsessed with you…I had no idea you actually belonged to him. You can’t be here. He’ll burn my club down.”
My property patch.
My feet faltered for a second, nervous about the tone Giles used.
“He won’t…I promise you…he only does that when I’m taken against my will.”
His brown eyes continued to spear me in place, as if he couldn’t be convinced to let me stay.
“Sons of Speed took you?”
I nodded slowly. It was complicated but true enough.
He ran another hand through his hair, taking a step closer.
“Okay, I hope you’re right…for the record, he isn’t coming in here. He’s fucked in the head, Natty. A ghost to the men here. Someone as terrifying as death itself…like a scary bedtime story.”
“I’m not worried about Silas, Giles. I just need to call in my favor with you and I’ll be on my way. Likely before he even realizes I slipped his little detail.”
Giles stopped walking again, letting out an agonized groan. “Fuck, this is going to be bad. I can feel it.”
I smirked and followed him out the kitchen doors and down the hall where an office waited.
This was going to work. It had to.
I just had to trust that I was making the right decision.
I was out of the Chaos Kings’ gates the following hour, riding back toward Rose Ridge. I was really hoping I wouldn’t run into Silas, but I’d been gone for over twenty-four hours, so there was a good chance he was close by.
No fires had been started yet, so I knew he hadn’t arrived. He would have absolutely burned the whole thing down if he knew I was inside, especially considering they wouldn’t have allowed him in.
It was understandable that they didn’t, not after all the shit the club had been through after being hijacked by Tuck and Jefferson…
splitting the club, and now having to reunite under new leadership.
My hope was that considering the club divided, there were going to be quite a few men still lingering that had connections to the initial defectors.
Jefferson Quinn and Tuck Holloway were the ones who had brought Fable into this mess.
Apparently, there was a connection between the older members.
Since so many members had been privy to the plan Jefferson had for taking over, I was betting on those members still lurking around Richland. I was putting Giles in an awkward position by requesting what I did, but we needed to find Fable, and I was willing to pull out every resource available.
My bike slowed as I came to a stop sign. My boots hit the dirt right as a familiar bike came into view. Silas wasn’t wearing his helmet, but he had on a gaiter mask, and the second his eyes landed on me, they blazed with fury.
Shit.
My stomach flipped with nervous excitement because for two years I had remained in a nice, safe cage where he could always check up on me.
This was the first time I’d dared to play the same game that he was playing.
He couldn’t see my face through my visor because I had opted for a full head helmet and my bike was more of a sports bike compared to his Chopper.
He started for me, but I revved the throttle and put my boot down to steady the frame as I turned to the right and sped away. My husband could chase me if he wanted to scold me about staying put and being watched by his Raiders.
My hair flew behind me as I leaned over the engine of my bike, my focus on the road ahead, while flicking my gaze every so often to the small side mirror.
Silas was right behind me, revving his engine to taunt me.
He was also very clearly humoring me because while my bike was going nearly seventy miles per hour, he seemed as if this was amusing to him.
He sat upright, one hand on the throttle, and the other hanging down by his side.
I knew him well enough that if I continued to push, he’d do something insane, like pull me right from the bike onto his lap and give zero fucks about my bike crashing.
I doubted very much that he wanted me riding at all, so to save my precious Yamaha, I pulled off on a side road where tall stalks of corn hid us from view.
His engine roared behind me, then cut off right as I lowered the kickstand for my bike and slid off the seat.
My heart nearly pushed through my chest as I took in Silas.
Seated on his bike with both legs down, steadying the frame, he wore a gaping tank, which revealed all the ink that saturated his skin.
He wore no patches, no colors. Nothing that would identify him as a Death Raider.
I hadn’t seen him without those patches since he was seventeen years old.
He tugged the gaiter mask down so I could see his mouth.
His eyes were storming, his lips were flat, his expression practically screamed that he was silently rioting in that beautiful head of his.
My helmet was still on, but for the sake of this game that we were playing, I removed it and set it on the seat of my bike.
His glare remained indifferent as he waited there on his bike, looking like the villain who usurped a king.
I walked to him, and he tracked my every step.
Once I reached his outstretched leg, I placed my hand on his shoulder and slid in front of him, letting my legs fall to the side.
I wore leather pants, motorcycle boots and my leather property patch, which covered my arms. Under it, I had a simple, loose tank and sports bra.
Silas tugged under my ass, pulling my legs over his hips, and then his nose was in my neck where he was inhaling.
I felt like his drug of choice. While he’d never seemed to dabble in anything but nicotine, his lips traveled over my jaw as if every cell of mine was laced in heroin.
“Did you forget yourself, Wife?” he rumbled close to my ear.
I smiled, stroking his neck as I whispered back, “Not at all, Husband. I’ve simply remembered myself.”
His chuckle was short-lived because his mouth had attached to my throat, sucking and kissing while his hands slid under my jacket, gripping my ribs.
“You still under the assumption that we ended somehow?”
He was going to punish me for that, but hopefully he’d wait until I could properly enjoy it.
“Are you still under the assumption that I need to be kept behind in order for you to keep me safe?”
He pushed my jacket off, which allowed the soft breeze to brush against my skin. His lips were ravenous as he moved them down my chest and then my shirt was lifted and I was in front of him in just my sports bra and leather pants.