Chapter 2
I left the warehouse and grabbed a cab instead of waiting for the bus in the chilly air. In my haste to get away from the fight and bloodlust, I left my jacket behind.
I closed the door to the cheap motel room I’d been living in for the past several weeks. The noisy heater under the window blasted hot air and I shivered despite the warmth.
I’d hit up a diner close to the motel and ordered a burger and fries, along with a small soda to go. I set both containers on the nightstand and then went to the heater and turned down the knob.
It was a mild winter so far, which was a relief. But the air in Texas was humid, adding a layer of dampness to everything.
I debated taking a shower before eating, but the food was still hot and cold fries wouldn’t taste nearly as good. I sat down on the edge of the double bed and opened the to-go container.
Sounds of the highway filtered through the single-paned windows. Nothing out of the ordinary—just big semis and every now and again a truck without a muffler.
I polished off the burger in record time and then leisurely ate the shoestring fries.
Roxy and Daisy hadn’t said it, but their disbelief that I hadn’t gone with Savage had been written on their faces.
At least they weren’t jealous. If anything, they’d been ecstatic for me.
The thought of Savage made fear swirl in my belly and climb up my throat. The violence he’d unleashed against Toro should’ve been the reason I was afraid of him. But it wasn’t.
His gaze had been steady; and even across a warehouse room, I saw the intensity behind his eyes.
I understood now why violence and lust went hand in hand. I should’ve been appalled. His fists inflicting injury. His muscles coiling in offense.
But something had surged through my veins when I watched him move. A brutal dance that ended with his victory.
And he wanted me as his war prize.
I shivered and closed my eyes, reveling in the memory.
With a sigh of frustration, I wrenched my eyes open. Ignoring the rest of my food, I kicked off my worn tennis shoes and stripped out of my clothes, wanting to rid myself of the night.
I double-checked that I’d locked and chained the door and ensured the curtains were shut so no sunlight would wake me in the morning.
It was just past one a.m., and my steps were heavy as I trudged into the tiny bathroom.
As far as highway motels went, this one was decent. It might’ve been outdated and faded, but it was clean, and the water pressure was strong and it got scalding hot.
I stood under the spray and washed the night from my hair and body.
My mind kept wandering back to Savage. I hated that I wondered how his lips would feel against mine.
Possessive and sinful.
Before I knew what I was doing, my hand slid down my belly and then between my thighs. I touched myself and then immediately felt embarrassed. But I couldn’t stop. I closed my eyes and pretended it was Savage.
His big, rough fingers spread me and slid inside.
I bit my lip to strangle my cry as he pumped them in and out of me, his thumb gently pressing against my clit.
My own fingers worked faster and faster until I had no choice but to come. I threw my head back as the water beat down on me.
When my orgasm faded and my body no longer trembled, I removed my fingers. I let the water wash away my release, but it didn’t wash away my shame.
I shut off the water and wrapped a scratchy, faded white towel around myself and then did the same for my hair.
Satiated, my mind started working and I began to process my situation. There was nothing to do, I rationalized. Savage had fought; he would not be in any shape to fight again soon, so there was no chance of running into him again.
Hopefully he was already fixated on someone else. Perhaps Roxy or Daisy, who were both eager and willing.
Envy poured through me at the idea he was with one, or both of them right now.
I had no right to feel the way I did.
He owed me nothing.
“Four carne asada tacos, a side of queso, and an orange soda, please,” I said, looking into my bag for my wallet.
“That sounds good. I’ll have the same.”
I looked behind me at the man who’d mirrored my order. My eyes widened in shock.
Savage stood behind me, wearing a pair of dark jeans, a long sleeved white thermal shirt and a leather cut. His blond hair was mussed, his nose was bruised, and one of his eyes was swollen shut.
He flashed me a smile and winced immediately when his split lip tore open. I was still standing there, frozen in terror like a fawn, when Savage handed over a couple of twenties to the guy in the taco truck.
“Excuse me, some of us would like to order,” a middle-aged man said from behind Savage.
Savage looked at the man. “Manners, dude. What’s the magic word?”
The stranger blinked, clearly not used to having another adult calling him out. “Uh, please.”
“Happy to move, brother,” Savage said. He gently grasped my elbow and moved us out of the way of foot traffic.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded, shaking off his touch—and hating that I could feel the imprint of his fingers through my jacket.
“Best tacos in the city,” he said with a shrug. “And I like to celebrate my wins with tacos. Seems kind of like fate that we’re meeting again like this.”
“We’ve never met,” I protested.
“No, you’re right. I was hoping to meet you last night, but you left.”
I took a deep breath. “I left. Yep.” I huddled down in the jacket I’d borrowed from Agnes—the woman who owned the motel I was staying at. She was the one who’d told me about the taco truck.
“Why?” he asked in curiosity.
“Why? Seriously?” I raised my brows and stared at him. “You’re surprised that I left last night instead of . . .”
“Going home with me. Yeah. I’m surprised.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I would’ve thought Daisy or Roxy had told you what the nod meant.”
“They did.” I crossed my arms over my chest. “Which is exactly why I bailed.”
“Ah.”
“Who did you take home in my stead?” I asked.
“I’d grin at your jealousy, but I don’t want to split my lip again,” he drawled.
“I’m not jealous. I don’t even know you. Why would I be jealous?”
“What’s that saying? Thou doth protest too much?”
“You don’t even know my name,” I pointed out.
“But you know mine, don’t you, darlin’?”
The guy at the window of the taco truck waved at Savage. “Tacos are ready!” he called.
Savage went to the window. The guy handed him a tray with our meals and Savage brought it back toward me.
“Pick a table,” he said.
The taco truck was in the middle of a parking lot and there were several picnic tables that were currently empty. I gestured to the one farthest away from the truck and sat.
Savage set the tray down in the middle of the table and hoisted his body onto the seat. He handed me a couple of napkins and I noticed his swollen knuckles.
“You still haven’t told me your name,” he said easily.
I paused. “Evie.”
“Evie.” He rolled my name over on his tongue.
I liked how he said it; rough and guttural.
“You didn’t have to pay for my lunch.” I reached into my bag once again for my wallet but stopped when he shook his head.
“Not a big deal,” he said.
I unzipped my jacket, and his gaze immediately dropped to my chest. This time, he couldn’t stop the smile—and then the laugh.
“What?” I demanded. “What’s so funny?”
“Where did you get that shirt?”
“A thrift store, why?”
I liked the vintage picture of a motorcycle the moment I saw it, which was why I’d bought it.
“Charlie’s Motorcycle Repair,” Savage said as he read the text across my breasts. “My club owns Charlie’s.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah. So, after running into you this morning at my favorite taco truck and now seeing that you’re wearing something that’s part of my club, it definitely feels like fate.”
“Fate.” I snorted. “It’s called a coincidence.”
“Maybe. But fate is in control of those too.” He gestured with his chin to the tacos in front of me. “Try it.”
I lifted one of the hard-shell tacos to my lips and took a bite. I closed my eyes and savored the flavors.
After I swallowed, I opened my eyes to find Savage watching me.
“Good?” he asked gruffly.
“The best,” I admitted.
He grinned.
We both chowed down, and it wasn’t until I was in the middle of my second taco that I asked, “So you’re in a motorcycle club?”
“Yep. The Tarnished Angels.” He gestured to the motorcycle in a parking spot. “That’s my ride.”
“I know nothing about motorcycles, so I’ll just say it’s shiny and pretty.”
He laughed. “You ever been on one?”
“No.”
“We’ll have to change that.”
I raised my brows. “You’re very assumptive.”
“Come on, tell me you’re not curious. A woman like you?”
“What does that mean?”
“You work in an illegal fighting ring, so that must mean you like excitement. Once I get you on the back of my bike with your arms wrapped around me, it’ll be the ride of your life.”
Something told me he wasn’t just talking about his motorcycle.
“I work at the ring because the money is good,” I said. “Why do you fight?”
“Same reason.” He shrugged. “It pays well, and I like it.”
“Probably doesn’t hurt that all you have to do is nod and women come running to you like little sex pots,” I added.
“Not all women, clearly. You kind of bruised my ego.”
“I think you’ll get over it.”
“Nope. I won’t. I’ll never have the confidence to ask out another woman as long as I live.”
“So dramatic,” I teased, smiling despite my better judgement. “Just tell me the truth. Did you find a runner up to take home last night?”
“Nope.”
“Realllly . . .”
“You don’t believe me?”
“I felt the energy in the warehouse. There’s no way you went home alone just because I didn’t bow at your feet.”
“Bow at my feet,” he murmured. “I kind of like that visual.”
I arched a brow. “Never gonna happen.”
“Never say never.”
“I’m not looking for trouble.”
“What are you looking for?” he asked, pivoting the conversation. “A nice guy? White picket fence and a couple of kids?”
“Not looking for that either,” I proclaimed.
I wasn’t sure why I was indulging him. Savage was a stranger. And yet . . . it was easy to talk to him. He’d disarmed me—quickly. It had only been a few minutes, and I was already starting to converse with him like I’d known him for years.
And now I was on guard because getting close to anyone would be a terrible idea.
I polished off my final taco. Savage gathered our trash and dumped it into a garbage bin next to the taco truck and returned the tray.
“Ready?” he asked.
I frowned. “Ready for what?”
He gestured to his bike. “The ride of your life.”
“Thanks for the offer, but I’ve got to get home.”
“Can I see you again?” Savage asked.
“No.”
He placed his hand on his chest like he’d been stabbed. “You wound me.”
“Something tells me you’ll recover.”
He peered at me for a moment, his blue eyes suddenly brighter in the winter sun. “No. I don’t think I will.”