Chapter 5
SANDRA
Beast just threw that man like a rag doll.
I gasp as the guy’s head smacks the front of the building and he slides down like in a cartoon.
To the jerk’s credit, he doesn’t crumple up and cry, which seems like the most sensible reaction.
He shakes it off, staggering to his feet and grasping the back of his head, glancing down at a streak of blood on his palm before getting into a wobbly fighting stance.
"Buddy." Piston rolls his eyes. "You don't want to play this game."
Maybe, maybe not, but he’s not backing down. “Fucking Eagles. You don’t own this town,” he spits out with a roar, crouching and charging.
I honestly don't think Beast expected the guy to keep going with the way he's outnumbered and probably outgunned. He manages to ram his shoulder into Beast’s chest, but that’s as far as he gets.
Beast rocks back a little, but captures his arm just below his shoulder and uses it for leverage to throw him again.
This time he doesn’t catch himself and ends up skidding across the broken asphalt. It takes him a moment to gather himself and get up to one knee, with a hand on the ground for support. "Motherfuck—"
"I'd think real hard about what you're gonna do next." Piston’s voice is ice cold and hard as steel. His hands on his belt pushes his cut open, revealing the pistol grip at his waist.
Zero steps around, putting me at his back.
"How about you get your ass in your car and drive while we’re feeling generous.
Easy choice, but if we ever, and I mean fucking ever, hear about you coming back here and giving our girl trouble, it’ll be the last fucking thing you do.
Or we could finish it now. So what's it gonna be? "
Our girl?
Pretty sure I'm not their anything, unless there was a memo I didn't get, but this isn’t the time to point that out. I stay quiet, not wanting to make anything worse than it already is.
And as much as I hate to admit it, this is the sort of thing that Carl and most normal people worry about when they think about the Screaming Eagles.
Getting involved with them does mean trouble.
My sister has a beautiful life with men who not only would, but have killed to make sure she can live it. Happiness has a cost sometimes.
“I’ll be back, bitch,” the rude man spits at me as he limps to his car before driving away.
The front door opens and Carl pokes his head out. “Is—is everything o—okay?” he stammers. He’s a nice guy, but he’s never going to be the kind of guy who would throw someone into a wall for me, and honestly I suppose that’s a strange standard to set for people.
I nod. “It’s fine, thanks.”
Having done his brave deed of the day, Carl vanishes.
"Are you alright?" Piston approaches. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
I remember I'm still hiding behind Zero and step out of his shadow. "No. He was mostly just rude. You guys got here before anything really happened.”
"He put his fucking hands on you," Piston growls. "He’s lucky he’s still walking."
"What did he want?" Zero’s sharp eyes rake down my body.
I’m all too aware of how I look, rumpled clothes, smudged makeup and crazy hair. "I think he was looking for Junkyard."
“You think? Didn’t he know his own dog?” Piston asks.
“Not really. He could describe her, but couldn’t show me a picture or give me a name. I had a bad feeling about him right from the start so I kinda told him I didn’t know anything about her,” I admit sheepishly.
“Good. You want us to stick around?” Beast asks. “We came by to see how things were going. Piston said you had a late night.”
The way he says it makes it sound like more than Chinese food and sports TV happened.
The memory of tasting water on Piston’s lips flashes through my brain, but I quickly box it up and shove it deep into a mental closet.
I glance over and catch Piston’s eye. He doesn’t say anything, but I bet he’s thinking the same. His smile is downright sinful.
Zero raises an eyebrow at my loaded silence.
“Oh! Right, um. You don’t have to. I was actually going to run home to shower and change.” I gesture to the company van.
"Perfect. We can give you a ride." Beast suggests. Piston nods in agreement.
"No, I couldn't—"
"Why not?" Zero asks. “We're already here."
"But—"
“Happy to help with the shower, too if you need a hand. Last night was good practice.” Piston winks.
“I need to come back here, though.”
Beast shrugs. “No problem.”
I swap my glare back and forth between the three of them. “I can make it home on my own, you know.”
“I’m sure you can.” Zero says. The other two nod. Nobody moves.
Tick, tick, tick. I can hear the clock slowly running out on my secret.
The moment they see where I live, they’re going to know I’m connected to the club.
But maybe that’s a good thing. If they keep insisting on showing up it won’t stay hidden for long, anyway, and once everything is out in the open, I won’t even have to remind myself why getting mixed up with them is a bad idea. My sister will do it for me.
"Fine. If you insist." I dash inside and put back the key. “Carl! I’m getting a ride home so the van’s still out front,” I yell through the door into the back. He yells back something that sounds vaguely affirmative.
All three are near their bikes when I get back outside.
I don’t remember which guy was riding which bike when they showed up.
I’ve always loved how motorcycles seem to reflect their riders, so I try to guess which bike matches which man.
The first is sleek and black, with blood red detailing that spirals into a zero on the tank.
That’s easy. Zero. The other two are harder.
There’s a heavier model, chunky and deep blue with chrome trim that looks custom, and an older one, army green.
It’s a workhorse built to last, not for show.
I’m going to guess Piston on blue and Beast on green.
"Who am I riding with? I’m not going to have to worry about someone getting jealous about me riding bitch, am I?" I can't help the quirk of my lips when they eye me, suddenly suspicious.
"If you know enough to ask, don’t piss me off by thinking we’d pull shit like that." Beast throws his long leg over the green motorcycle. Yes! One down.
I shrug. "Hey, I’m a girl’s girl. It’s always good to check."
Zero chuckles. "Smartass." He gets onto the black one. Two out of three then, which means I guessed right. There's just a little pride at having figured out their styles so fast.
Piston throws a leg over the blue bike. "We’re all free agents, baby. You need a ride, we'll give you a fucking ride. Mount up." He pats the seat behind him.
It’s been a while since I’ve been on a bike, and even longer since I’ve been on one with a guy that made me very aware of how intimate it can feel.
I swing into position behind Piston, my thighs spread on the outside of his.
I wrap my arms around his chest, pressing myself up against the Screaming Eagles MC patch on his back.
The leather is warm from the sun, and it smells like open roads and freedom.
“You set?” he asks.
“Fire her up.”
I feel more than hear his laughter, and when he starts the bike, the rumble of it seems to erase all the little pockets of air between our bodies, shifting me even closer.
My heart is pounding, and I can’t stop the smile stretching my lips any more than I can stop feeling how solid his abs are under my hands.
I know there’s no way it’s going to work out, but getting some help in the shower is sounding like more and more of a great idea.
"Where we going, pretty lady?" he asks over his shoulder as Beast and Zero pull up on either side of us.
I point towards home, and the motorcycle roars.
He waits for me to get a solid grip, then releases the break and we launch out of the parking lot like lions chasing down prey.
My heart drops into my stomach and adrenaline flares as my body's initial panic response fires off.
God, this is amazing. I let out a thrilled whoop that's carried away by the roaring wind before I can even hear it.
Whenever there's a turn, I tap Piston and gesture with hand signals. He turns dutifully, followed by our honor guard of Beast and Zero. I'm tempted to just guide them all over the city just so I can keep enjoying the sensation of him and his bike and the wind in my hair, but this can’t last forever. I can’t leave Carl to handle everything all day.
Luckily, while Travis can be kind of an ass sometimes, he doesn't care too much about who is there when, as long as there's coverage and the dogs are taken care of.
When I point out the last turn, down the street towards Natalie's building, I see them glance at each other. Maybe they haven’t been here before, but I doubt it.
The club owns two side by side buildings here.
Faith, their president’s daughter and old lady to Alpha, Ripper and Blade, runs a bookstore out of one, and a couple years ago Natalie expanded her bakery out of the bookstore and into the other.
Both families live in apartments over their respective businesses.
The Screaming Eagles might be a large MC, but we’re in South Side and six members live here. They’ve probably been by at least once.
And I'm right, because I don’t even have to tell them where to park, and I get some very suspicious looks as I climb off.
Animal, one of Natalie’s men, opens the door to the bakery and leans in the opening. "What the fuck, Sandra? Did something happen?"
“Yeah, what the fuck?” Zero asks, and I see the same question reflected in Beast’s confused expression.
“Everything’s fine.” I give Piston one last squeeze before dismounting. “Did you save me cookies?”