3. Cupid
CHAPTER THREE
CUPID
That little shit!
She’s got some brass ovaries, I’ll give her that much. Most grown men wouldn’t dare touch another man’s bike, especially mine.
Here, Miss five-foot-nothing flips my kill switch, stalling my bike on the road like a brat testing her luck. She’s playing a dangerous game, and she probably doesn’t realize it.
Dark thoughts circle around my head of all the devious ways I can make her pay for her misbehavior, most involving her splayed beneath me while I delay her gratification. If I have it my way, and woo her right, she’ll beg me so sweetly by the time I’m through with her.
We’re going to have so much fun, Psyche.
I start my engine, taking off after her once more. She’s gained some ground, but I’ll catch up to her. There’s no way I’m going to let this woman slip away, not when I finally found her.
Most women don’t grab my attention. They either see me as a man to play out all their dark fantasies with, or they take one look at me, sense danger, and run the other way.
Never has a woman flirted with me one second only to straight-up rebuke me the next when I come on to her—until now. I’d say this little baddie is playing hard to get, but she’s intentionally doing everything in her power to shake me off. I can’t make sense of it, and my interest is piqued.
Most guys don’t like being toyed with, cutting their losses as soon as a woman pulls a one-eighty in the personality department. But me? Not going to lie. I’m digging the whiplash effect. It’s keeping me guessing what her motive might be.
Lucky for me, I enjoy solving mysteries, and this woman is all mystery.
Am I being irrational for getting it in my head that me and this young woman have a connection worth exploring?
Probably.
Do I give a rat’s ass about what’s rational?
Hell, no.
I’m thirty-three years old. I’ve gotten around, sampling my fair share of what’s available to me. When you’ve had everything and nothing feels good enough to pursue more than one-night stands or occasional hookups, you notice when one woman stands out among the rest.
And this woman—wow. She has stolen my attention. Her looks may have captured me, but her wild, bratty nature has me locked in.
I need to know who she is, in more ways than one.
On a deeper level, I can’t help but feel as if my bow has finally struck a match for me.
For years, I’ve waited for my other half to make herself known to me, quietly hoping I’d be as lucky as my brothers I helped set up with their ole ladies, yet slowly resigning to the possibility I may not find her.
The moment this woman caught my eye, I instinctively took my shot.
It’s like there’s now a string connecting me to her, and I’m quickly trying to reel her in before my chance at a happily ever after slips away.
Ignoring all traffic laws, I crank the throttle and chase after my obsession.
My mystery girl weaves through the city, a poor attempt to lose me. It’s kind of cute how she thinks she can throw me so easily. Her naivety will be to my advantage.
When she takes the on-ramp for Interstate 25 heading out of Loveland, I follow. The open highway will give us more room to play our game of tag, making riding safer for both of us.
As fun as it has been to pursue her through Loveland, I don’t like how reckless she’s been on her bike. If something were to happen to her on the road… I shudder.
A nagging voice in the back of my head reminds me the only reason the woman is driving recklessly is because I’m chasing her. It is all my fault.
Once I catch her, I’ll need to earn her trust, letting her know I’ll never harm her. The only time she’ll run from me in the future is when her brattiness deserves a paddling.
It’s peculiar how attached I’ve grown to this woman when I hardly know anything about her. The little I know about her will help me identify her if, on the off chance, she gets away.
What I know about my little speed demon is that her name is Vanessa.
At least that’s what I recall Buck calling her when they said their goodbyes in his garage.
The irony of her name and what it represents isn’t lost on me.
If anything, it’s fucking fate placing my other half right in my lap like, “Here you go. She’s yours. Enjoy!”
I certainly plan on it, as long as I can catch her.
She rides like a maniac, maybe even has a speeding ticket on her record—a record would definitely help me track her down.
And if everything else is a dead end, I’ve got her license plate number locked away in my head.
A call to my informant at the police station in Loveland would get me the answers I need real quick.
Realistically, I have enough to find her again.
But I’m not ready to let her go—not yet.
I’m on the open road with a beautiful baddie riding in front of me.
It’s a biker’s dream come true. Besides, I’ve got a superb view of her full ass dangling in front of me like a carrot, and I want to take a bite out of it.
A good man would ease up on the gas and let her escape. Hell, a good man wouldn’t have chased her to begin with.
I’m not a good man—far from it. I run guns for the Royal Bastards, I’m the president of a one-percent motorcycle club, and I break the law daily. Letting her go now would be cruel, giving her the false narrative that she’s safe from me when she’s anything but.
Vanessa continues north on Interstate 25, checking over her shoulder occasionally to see if I’m still there. I’m directly behind her, right in her blind spot, where she can’t see me in the mirrors. She’s so close and yet so far.
At one point, she gives me the middle finger, letting me know she’s pissed. I let out the biggest belly laugh, loving how easy it is to get under her skin.
After thirty minutes of riding, Vanessa pulls off in Fort Collins, heading toward CSU.
Hmm. Maybe she’s a student.
I’m trying to imagine what degree she’s pursuing when I notice the tracks ahead and red lights flashing. A deep horn blasts close by, signaling that a train is drawing near. I look towards where the noise is coming from, seeing a train on our left coming from the industrial side of the city.
The guardrails come down over the road, blocking the path. I slow down, but Vanessa doesn’t. My stomach drops out from under me, realizing she doesn’t plan on it.
“PSYCHE! NO!” I yell, but it’s no use. She can’t hear me over the blaring of the horn.
Without hesitation, Vanessa weaves around the guardrails, cutting across the tracks by the skin of her teeth.
Seconds later, the train plows between us, blaring its horn angrily. The ground rumbles, shaking nearly as much as I am.
Desperate to see if she’s okay, I try to catch a glance of her between the passing rail cars.
She’s there, safe on the other side. I’m surprised to see she stopped. She looks over her shoulder, watching me between the boxcars as intently as I watch her.
Now, I’m pissed. It was bad enough when Vanessa was riding her hog like a rocket on the roads, but zooming in front of an oncoming train was suicidal. My palms itch, wanting to tan her hide or grab her into a protective hug—maybe both.
Wait. She stopped. She’s watching me.
My heart flutters wildly in my chest, hope and confusion blooming inside of me all at once.
Vanessa risked her life to get away from me. Why has she suddenly stopped? Why not keep going?
A sensible woman would run for the hills after being chased by a man like me on a motorcycle. Yet she stays, her eyes fixed on me.
It makes no sense. My brow furrows as I try to understand why she’s still here.
She pulled a stupid stunt. Perhaps she’s coming down from the adrenaline rush after skirting death?
Maybe she’s mocking my failed attempt to follow her, taking a moment to gloat before cruising away.
I’m so focused on her, I nearly miss the caravan of bikers cruising up behind her. She doesn’t seem to hear them approaching, not over the roar of the steel alloy train wheels clanking and screeching on the track.
My heart goes into overdrive, checking to see how much more of the train needs to pass before I can get to her. I don’t know who these bikers are. Are they friends or foes?
All I know is I’m a lone Royal Bastard president with no backup and my woman is within their reach.
My eyes swivel between watching the approaching bikers closing in, Vanessa, and the fucking remaining boxcars separating us.
It’s not long before the last rail cart chugs by, and I get a clear image of what I’m dealing with.
Vanessa remains on the right side of the road, and a pack of half a dozen Mercy Ravens MC bikers face me on the left side of the road.
The clanging bell and red lights from the guardrails stop sounding when the rails lift.
Nobody moves, let alone breaks eye contact.
Keeping my eyes on the other bikers, I crook my fingers at my little baddie. “Come here, Butterfly,” I shout, trying to hide my anxiety.
“Don’t call me any pet names!” she snaps back.
One of the Mercy Ravens, a big dude with a mean-looking mug, watches our exchange. His scowl deepens the more he hears.
“This isn’t the time to get smart,” I holler back, trying to remain calm and not frighten her. I have not yet interacted with this MC and I don’t want my first time to involve this woman possibly being in harm’s way. “Come here.”
She shakes her head stubbornly. “No. Go away.”
Goddamnit!
The big biker narrows his eyes, turning to look at Vanessa. “Do you know this guy?”
“No!” she says, cocking an attitude. “He followed me all the way from Loveland. I’m just trying to get home.”
The entire crew faces me, ready to go to blows.
“Go straight home,” the big biker tells her. “We’ll make sure he doesn’t follow you.”
Vanessa pauses, looking between me and them, as if she’s finally picking up on the tension. “You will not hurt him, will you?”
My lips curl at the corners of my mouth, hearing the concern in her voice for me.
“Do you want us to?” he asks, deadpan.
“NO!” she blurts. “Look. He did nothing but follow me. I don’t want him or anyone else getting hurt over me.”
Awww. My bratty baddie actually cares about me, too. Makes me want to puff out my chest with pride, having this woman defend me.
“Vanessa,” I say, grabbing her attention immediately.
Her brow creases. “How do you know my?—”
“It’s okay,” I say gently, cutting her off. “Go home.”
The sooner she’s out of here, the sooner she’s away from the danger. Yet, these Mercy Ravens don’t seem to pose any danger—for her. They appear to be concerned about her well-being.
On the other hand, they want me gone.
Vanessa takes one last look between all of us bikers before riding out. She glances over her shoulder once at me, like she wants to make sure I’m okay.
Who would have guessed the piss and vinegar brat I was chasing actually has a soft side? Makes me like her all the more.
With Vanessa gone, the bikers turn their attention toward me.
The big one with the mean mug sneers at me. “You dare to come into our city, chasing one of our residents, and have the nerve to pull this shit in front of me and my crew?”
His crew? Ah, this must be their president—I believe his name is Atlas, if my memory serves me correctly.
“I wouldn’t call it chasing. More like I was escorting her home,” I say evenly, attempting to deescalate the situation, considering I’m outnumbered. “She took my help the wrong way.”
“The wrong way,” Atlas parrots, not buying a word I’m saying. “Well, let me show you the right way out of town.”
“No need,” I say, reading between the lines. “I’ll see myself out.”
I rev my engine, circling my bike around, and cruise in the opposite direction from where Vanessa went. It will only be a matter of time before I return, and I’m not leaving until I find her again.