Chapter 3
Willow
I shouldn’t have been there, I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself. Earlier in the day, I saw Dean riding through downtown Sturgis with his club and every emotion you could imagine exploded inside me.
Guilt, lust, sorrow, and the need to be reckless all crashed together, and on impulse, I did something crazy that would definitely make my brother angry.
I got onto my bike and followed him and his club into the edges of Rapid City, to a party at a bar called the Sin Den.
I had my ‘Property of Willow’ shirt on, and I wasn’t afraid to punch a biker in the throat if he touched me, but I was stepping into dangerous territory.
Three years ago, my father died, leaving my brother, Ghost, as the president of the Phantom Renegades in Minneapolis, and I declared myself property of no man. Dad didn’t want me to end up with a biker and made sure I was off limits, but my brother didn’t have such strict rules.
The only problem was the one biker I wanted had renounced all ties to the club—and to me—over six years ago.
My heart broke when Dean handed my dad his prospect cut, and seeing it land on the dirty shop floor made my stomach fall to my knees.
Everything he had worked so hard for was gone, all because he wouldn’t let my father cast me out on my own.
Our night consisted of amazing sex and countless orgasms, but it was also filled with painful truths and secret guilts.
We shared our bodies, our souls, and our sordid histories, thinking we’d never see each other again.
But fate, luck, karma, or just my fucked-up decisions had put us in the same room, and I still thought about the way he drove away, like what we had experienced and the level of raw honesty we’d shared meant nothing.
So, putting myself out there like this, not knowing if he had an ol’ lady or not, was potentially problematic.
I wasn’t going to cause problems for him, but I needed to see him, just once, face-to-face.
When I walked into the party, I was greeted by a sweet lady whose cut proclaimed her property of Roughstock, who she explained was the President of the Sinners chapter.
Her name was Cheyenne, and honestly, I expected her to have an attitude and kick me out. She welcomed me to the party, explained that no was honored above all else with the Sinners, and I was welcome to let loose. I declined her offer with a smile but continued chatting with her.
“I like your shirt,” she remarked with a smile.
“Thanks. Sometimes, you need to remind them that women aren’t actual property,” I explained with a shrug.
“I can see that. In our club, women are treasured, but having grown up in Rapid City, I’ve seen some fucked-up things happen during the Rally.
” She shook her head and took a swallow of one of those nasty fruity seltzers before she continued.
“But anyways, welcome to the Sin Den. Any brother with a Rapid City Sinners patch will get you to me if you need anything.” Someone called her name, and she turned before saying, “Have fun tonight.”
I gave her a smile and a nod before she stepped into the growing crowd of people.
I kept looking for an Phantom Renegades patch, expecting Ghost to have put a tracker on my bike, and as I made my way farther into the crowd, I made sure to keep my eyes moving.
The music was loud, and the smell of weed was growing the deeper I got into the party, and I eventually ended up in a conversation with a beautiful woman with black hair and green eyes.
“Sick ink,” she said as I walked by, and it was when I looked down and saw my sleeves that I remembered I didn’t have my jacket with me. “My ol’ man’s an ink slinger and he remarked how amazing yours is.”
“I appreciate that. I designed it and found a top-rate ink slinger to do the work for me,” I said as I turned my arms, giving her a better look.
A man covered in ink, piercings, and sporting a blond mohawk walked up and nodded. His cut said ‘Needles’, and his patch indicated he was a Death Hound out of Portstill, Tennessee. Their reputation was known, respected, and feared. “Damn good ink.”
She turned to look at him as she remarked, “That’s what I was telling her.” Looking back at me, she said, “I’m sorry. I was so busy gushing over your tattoos that I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Violet.”
I extended my hand to her, and we shook once. “Willow.”
For the next few minutes, we talked about tattoos and travel, and finally, Needles said, “No offense, but I don’t understand your shirt.”
I chuckled, and Violet elbowed him in his side as I answered.
“My father was the president of a club farther east, and he didn’t want me to end up with a biker.
” I shrugged as I tried to make it make sense.
“He wanted me to have a sense of self outside the club, and I guess I became rebellious. When he passed away a few years ago, I decided to claim myself before someone thought I was fair game.”
“That makes sense,” he said. “Is your father’s club here, or did you come with some friends?”
“To the party or to the Rally?” I asked then answered, “Party, I’m alone. Rally, I’m with my brother’s club, but only because he didn’t think it was safe for a woman here without backup.” I rolled my eyes and shook my head.
“Your brother’s right,” he said.
I sighed and looked at Violet. “Good luck taming the caveman. It was nice to meet you both.”
Without another word, I stepped around them and continued on my quest to find Dean. Grabbing a beer from the cooler, I slapped three singles from my pocket onto the table and a prospect took the money. I moved to the side and took a drink, needing it to steady my nerves.
This was crazy and reckless, and would probably blow up in my face.
Hell, I’ve already overstayed my welcome here, and I’m positive I’m going to hear about it from Ghost when I get back to the campgrounds outside of town.
The Phantom Renegades trucked over a few campers, a bunch of tents, and sleeping bags, and we all stayed there overnight.
Just as I was about to turn to leave, I heard someone yell, “Jigsaw,” and my attention was drawn in the direction it came from.
When I followed their line of sight, I saw Dean walking up, looking like the sexy beast I remembered from my fantasies.
He stopped in front of another man, and I moved behind someone, not wanting him to see me just yet.
Stalkerish? Definitely, but I couldn’t stop myself.
He walked inside the building, and I waited to see if he came back out.
A few minutes later, he emerged, looking around the party.
Stepping down the stairs, he walked to an area off to the side and sat down with a man and woman and began speaking with them.
Not able to see him clearly, I moved while trying to blend in with the party without it being obvious I was watching him.
After a few minutes, they all stood, and I turned away from him as he walked through the crowd, barely brushing against my ass with his hip as he pivoted around someone behind me.
My knees shook from that almost touch, and I realized I wasn’t going to stop until I could look into his eyes.
So far, I hadn’t seen anyone with a shirt proclaiming them to be his, nor had I seen him looking for anyone, so I hoped my instinct was right.
If not, I was going to get my ass kicked, and she’d be right to do it.
He walked around the far side of the bonfire and looked out at the party as people danced, swayed, drank, laughed, and partied like it was the last night of their lives.
A normal night for bikers, basically. When I saw him moving to the other side of the bonfire, swaying a little on his feet, I decided it had to be now or never.
I kept watching him and tried to move through the sea of bodies until I was on the other side. He had been looking down, but when he finally lifted his eyes, I knew he’d seen me. I felt it in my soul. Everything was right again as I let my hips sway with each step closer to him.
Stopping in front of Dean, I smiled at him as he happily sighed my name. “Willow.”
His eyes ran down my body, and I caught an eyebrow twitch when he saw my tattooed arms. Then, his gaze settled on my shirt.
Realization must have hit him at that moment because his expression changed from happy to a mix of disappointment and confusion.
It was at that exact moment that I knew I’d made a mistake.
Whatever I felt for him was obviously one-sided, and I needed to get the fuck out of here before there was trouble.
Someone yelled the name ‘Jack’, and Dean snapped his gaze to the side.
I used that distraction as my escape, but I gave myself one glance back as I pushed through the people gathered close by.
He had a little dog in his arms as he appeared to search for me in the mass of people.
The pain in my chest wasn’t unexpected, but it was worse than I thought it would be if I ever saw him again.
Having to walk out of the party, using other people to hide myself until I could get to the road and get onto my bike, made me feel like a coward.
I’d never backed down from anyone or anything, but seeing him and then seeing his expression had me thinking I was disrupting his life.
I’d done that once to him, and no one deserved it twice.
As I mounted my bike and kicked the motor over, hearing the high scream of the powerful motor, I reminded myself that he’d forget about me as quickly as I pulled down the road. And as I did just that, I realized I’d never be able to forget about him.
How could you forget the one person who shifted your world in the space of one night?