Chapter Three
Sunny
I swear I can feel the tension thicken in the air around us, even as we cruise into the charming urban sprawl leading up to the coast. Bones’s firm figure stiffens under my touch.
I’ve clearly hit a nerve. The beautiful, bold, and dominant beauty must have a past of her own.
What other reason would she have for helping me?
“Anyway,” I say quickly, beating the tension into submission with my trademark sunny disposition, “it doesn’t matter now. All that’s behind me. I’m free.”
Bones’s posture relaxes a fraction. “You never should have been treated like that in the first place—but I’m glad you saved yourself. Not enough women have the courage to walk. The fear shackles them like chains.”
I saved myself? My brows furrow and I frown beneath my visor, mulling over her words. “I guess I never looked at it like that,” I admit. “When I shut the front door behind me ... it felt more like I was running away.”
Bones clears her throat. “You did what many women can’t, Sunny.
Running ... saving ... I see no difference.
Both paths end with the same result. You did what was right for you.
When push came to shove, you bet on you and that took guts.
Don’t ever sell yourself short, babe. Trust me when I say the world will do that for you at every given opportunity and then some. ”
My heart flutters in my chest as we lean into a corner together.
This leather-clad goddess has shown me more compassion and genuine interest than my status chasing boyfriend of the past couple of years.
It boggles my mind and without thinking, I find myself holding onto Bones just a little tighter.
“Thank you,” I say as my voice chokes up on me, coming out more strangled and breathier than I intended.
I don’t understand how a woman I’ve just met has triggered such depth of emotion in me, but I can’t ignore the thickness in my throat or the feeling of shame warring with relief.
“I’ll try not to,” I promise her without thinking. “I’ll try to be strong like you.”
Bones is quiet for several breathless minutes before she answers me. “That’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever said to me.” Another minute passes. “Thank you.”
Every inch of me feels giddy and I grin under my helmet.
I can’t explain how, but electricity, or perhaps liquid sunshine, pours through my veins in response to her admission.
Something about Bones calls out to me. She radiates hurt and badassery in equal measure, and I can’t help but want to make her smile, to alleviate some of the pain she’s so obviously carrying.
It’s not every day a woman becomes a patched club member of the Sons of Sin.
Especially a fully and independently patched member—her cuts don’t declare her as anyone’s property but her own.
Motorcycle Chapters, of what little I know, are notoriously male dominated spaces, so to think this raven-haired beauty holds her own among some of the most notorious criminals and tough men in the country is as thrilling as it is a little frightening.
Soon, we crest the final rise and the heady, fresh scent of sea salt washes over us before Kraken Repairs comes into view.
My breath hitches in my throat and I forget how to breathe.
Just a block back from the beach an auto repair shop bustles with life, a veritable hive of activity.
At least a dozen motorcycles are parked outside it, and several vintage, muscle-era cars gleam under the midday sun like candies spilled on the sidewalk.
“You okay back there?” Bones asks as she weaves us through the throng of vehicles to a shaded parking bay marked VP.
I blink twice as we come to a stop, then with shaky legs I carefully dismount and remove my helmet. “You’re the Vice President of the club?” I gush in awe before sucking in a deep breath of briny air.
“Is that so hard to believe?” she replies, switching off the ignition and dismounting. As she removes her helmet her gaze meets mine and she runs a casual hand through her hair, her fingers combing through the locks at her scalp before raking through its luscious, midnight length.
Swallowing hard, I shake my head, my cheeks flushing with heat. Jesus Christ! Calm down, I tell myself as I try to make myself look descent. “No, it’s not that. I mean ... it’s just really cool to see. It suits you. More women deserve to be in positions of power.”
Bones stows away our helmets without remark, but then her eyes track up and down my form with an appreciative scrutiny that has my heart beating fast again. “Your dress looks like a second skin,” she observes. “Here, wear this.” Without another word she shrugs out of her cuts.
I glance down at my body, and a deep sense of embarrassment fills me.
“Oh, my god,” I breathe. My daisy-patterned dress is stuck to me, clinging to my curves with the dampness of my own sweat, leaving extraordinarily little to the imagination—and the place is swarming with big, heavily inked bikers.
She steps in front of me and reaches her arms around behind my back, placing her patched vest over my shoulders in an attempt to protect my modesty. “Better?” she asks.
The combination of her peppermint breath and her subtle perfume clouds my senses, and I find myself stumbling over my own tongue. “Yes... I mean, are you sure?”
Bones cocks a beautifully prominent dark brow before rolling her eyes. “I’m sure, sweetheart. Now, come on. Let’s go get you a cold drink before you pass out.”
“Okay,” I say, nodding. With my heart skipping beats, I suck in my lips as she takes my hand and leads me through the sea of eye-wateringly expensive cars and bikes to the wide-open roller shutter doors of the chop shop.
A welcome blast of cool air flows over me as central air conditioning fights the Floridian heat.
Several men look up from the vehicles they’re working on as we walk in, and I lick my lips self-consciously.
My free hand unconsciously strays to the black eye hidden behind my playfully garish sunglasses and I feel my body tense.
“Hey,” says Bones, briefly stopping to look down at me. My reflection stares back at me from the lenses of her shades. “You’re safe here, I promise. If anyone so much as looks at you funny, I’ll cut their fucking cock off.”
The vicious ferality in her voice has me almost swooning on my feet. Who is this gorgeous, badass? I wonder, as she draws me deeper into the shop. I can’t wait to find out.