Chapter 2
Street helped wash and dry the dishes after their meal.
Rosa restored the kitchen to a better state than when they arrived and mentally thanked the elderly farmer who’d treated her kindly for helping her one more time.
She’d met him one Tuesday afternoon as he struggled to heave a bag of fertilizer into the bed of his pickup truck.
Without thinking, she’d grabbed the bottom of the bag and hoisted the heavy package to help. He’d insisted on buying her lunch.
They hadn’t chatted much as they’d eaten the most delicious burger she’d had in years.
She’d figured out quickly that he despised small talk as much as she did.
Rosa had returned the next week at the same time to assist again.
She and Eddie had fallen into a routine that repeated for several months as she helped him load feed, seed, or other supplies into his truck.
His health had deteriorated quickly that winter with a cough that she suspected was more from the cigarettes he smoked than a seasonal bug.
When he hadn’t shown up one Tuesday, she’d convinced the feed store owner to let her peek at the old man’s account information.
He wouldn’t tell her the farmer’s address, but if she happened to see it, that was on her.
Rosa had hitchhiked and walked for eight hours to reach the farm.
She found Eddie on the front porch where she guessed he’d fallen earlier that week and passed away.
She could only hope his death had been quick and painless.
Rosa hadn’t cried for years, but she did that day, sitting on the front steps.
She hated to leave him there, but calling the police would only result in her being held and questioned as a suspect.
A background check would reveal the charges against her from years ago.
Eddie would have understood her need to survive. He was already gone.
Returning to town, she’d hidden each time a vehicle passed, scared they’d think she’d had something to do with Eddie’s death. Rosa had lifted a phone from a distracted mother’s stroller and called 911 and the number the close-mouthed farmer had made her memorize when he’d gotten ill.
She’d taken a chance that the son wouldn’t have moved quickly on the property when the biker had collapsed.
Thank goodness she’d been right. The mailman had piled his deliveries in a bin by the front door.
No one had been here in over a month. The barn had been a convenient place to let Street down easily into the hay and stash the bike out of view.
Street rubbed his flat stomach. “That helped a bunch. The brain fog is clearing.”
Rosa kept her gaze on his face. She knew exactly how fit and appealing Street’s form was. His unconscious body had rested heavily against her. Somehow, between her clenching one of his arms and his hands locked together around her waist, she’d held him on the bike to reach a safe place.
“What time do you think they’ll get here?” She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and pulled up a map. Maybe she could talk him into taking her to the next town to get that bus pass. The Ravagers would monitor her escape routes.
The rumble of motorcycles answered her question before he did. She stood and rushed to the window, positioning herself to the side where she could look out without being spotted easily. Street moved to the front door and walked outside.
“It’s safe, Rosa.”
A large man walked up the stairs first. Rosa rolled her eyes. All these guys were heavily muscled and in good shape. What happened to bikers with beer guts and bald heads in this club? Definitely, the Ravagers lost the battle for hot, fit biker dudes.
“Razor. I figured you’d come with the first group to make sure I wasn’t scrambled,” Street said.
“Are you?” Razor asked, scanning him quickly.
“I’m fine. Rosa kept me from drinking more than a sip of that crap and got me out of there.”
Razor glanced over at Rosa and nodded. “Not many people would have put themselves at risk. Did you get injured?”
That surprised her. No one had shown concern about her for years. “I’m a survivor,” she answered truthfully.
“I’m a medical doctor if you need care,” Razor told her.
Rosa glanced over at Street to confirm that information. She didn’t know why she trusted him to share the truth.
“Razor’s a real doc,” Street confirmed.
“I’m good,” she said quickly as she kept an eye on the small group of bikers who’d arrived with Razor.
“The offer stands,” Razor told her before turning back to Street. “Let’s go inside. I want to check your blood pressure and reflexes.”
“Rosa, come with us,” Street insisted, holding the door open for her.
Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Rosa preceded them into the house. Street owed her something. He, at least, had a reason to keep her safe. Staying with him was her best move.
She stood in the corner of the kitchen out of the way as Razor ran Street through a superficial exam. She kept her eyes on the doctor. He appeared to know what he was doing. The Devil Daddies was a weird MC. Who had their own medical doctor?
The rumble of more bikes outside spurred Rosa to race to the window. A gigantic man led the pack down the drive. Holding her breath, she checked to see if they’d kept their word. Her red duffel sat strapped on the seat behind him. She turned to find Street observing with her.
“He brought more stuff from my place.”
“Wraith has a Little girl. He probably grabbed what he thought she would want while he was there.”
“A Little girl? Like a daughter?” Rosa asked.
“No, Rosa. Wraith doesn’t have any children. His Little girl is the love of his life, Caroline. She writes romance novels.”
Distracted by the thought that Inky was smothering in the duffle bag, Rosa couldn’t concentrate on his explanation. “Can we go out there?”
“Of course,” Street said, ushering her through the front door. Razor trailed behind them.
She hung back and let Street approach the huge man with a black beard first. “Wraith. That didn’t take too long. Thanks, brother.”
Wraith looked past him to meet Rosa’s eyes. “Hey. I have some bad news. I have Inky, but the Ravagers got to your place first. You better hold Street’s hand,” he recommended as he pulled a pillowcase out of his jacket. Wraith hadn’t zipped up Inky in the duffel.
Her initial feeling of relief froze in her throat as he unrolled the pillowcase to reveal her black jaguar. Someone had cut open his stomach and pulled out the fluff inside. Rosa stretched out a hand and hesitated, unwilling to hurt her oldest friend. “Inky,” she whispered.
“The Ravagers had smashed and slashed a lot of things. I gathered the stuffing and brought the fluff with me. I think after some stitches your stuffie will survive.”
She held out her arms with tears coursing down her cheeks. Coming after her was understandable. But the asshole Ravagers had hurt Inky. Hatred burned in her stomach. “I have to get a needle and thread.”
“I’ve got you, Rosa,” Razor said, holding out a needle threaded with surgical string.
“I’m shaking too hard. You know how to stitch. Could you fix Inky for me?” Rosa pleaded, not caring that the bikers were watching and probably thought she was ridiculous.
“I can’t treat animals, sweetheart. But Street can. He’ll fix Inky up,” Razor told her as he handed the needle to Street.
“Please, Street. You don’t have to get me a bus pass. Just fix Inky and we’ll be square. I won’t ask for anything else,” Rosa offered, negotiating everything for her friend.
“Let’s sit down, Rosa.” Street wrapped an arm around her and led her to the two-person porch swing.
As soon as they settled into place, he tucked the stuffing securely inside the jaguar’s belly.
Using small stitches, he drew the edges together neatly.
Each push through his fur made Rosa wince.
That had to hurt. Gradually before her eyes, Street changed the ragged slash into a tidy scar.
Inky was a bit slimmer than he had been before, but Razor’s black surgical thread on the black stuffie’s belly was almost invisible.
Street tied a knot and snipped the excess string off.
“Inky needs some love after all he’s been through,” Street said, returning the jaguar to Rosa.
She buried her face in Inky’s fur and hugged him gently. Raising her gaze, she said, “Thank you so much.”
“Good job, Street,” Razor told him. “I couldn’t have done better myself.”
Clapping from those who watched drew her attention to the bikers who waited next to their cycles. The large man who’d retrieved her stuffie said, “Well done, Street,” as the others celebrated.
“Thank you,” she called to the bikers. “I know my reaction was silly, but Inky is important.”
“You won’t get an argument from them, Rosa. Several of those guys have adult Little girls in their lives,” Street said quietly. “Would you like to see what else Wraith brought?”
Focusing on the question was much easier than thinking too hard about that term Street kept using. “Please,” Rosa answered before turning to Wraith. She smiled her gratitude at him. “Thank you. You went to a lot of trouble for me.”
“Nah. We were there. I grabbed whatever I could for you. Someone, I’m assuming the Ravagers, had already ripped the door off its hinges and destroyed your room. Your neighbors may have grabbed stuff before we got there,” Wraith said as he brought the duffel bag to her.
“I had nothing to steal,” she blurted.
“I grabbed the clothes I could find that weren’t slashed. They destroyed your furniture,” Wraith said.
“The furnishings belonged to my landlord. All the stuff was in bad shape and smelled worse than it looked. They should have been tossed out years ago. Someone else had probably put them out in the trash before. He’ll definitely keep my deposit, but I’m not going back there anyway so…
.” Rosa let the sentence hang in the air for a second before adding, “Thank you again, Wraith.”
“My pleasure.” Wraith glanced past her to meet Street’s gaze. “Is she coming to the compound? The others will share their things with Rosa.”
“Yep. She needs to lie low for a while,” Street confirmed.
“What? No. I’ll just jump on a bus going somewhere. You don’t need to worry about me anymore.” Rosa hadn’t allowed herself to trust others for a long time. Experience had taught her the only person she could rely on was herself. Still, from deep inside her, hope kindled in her heart.
“Not happening, Rosa. Why don’t you want to stay with me? I promise you’ll be perfectly safe,” Street said.
“The Ravagers will try to get me if they find out where I am. Your MC doesn’t need that landing on their territory,” Rosa said quickly.
Every member of the MC bristled and straightened. When a fierce-looking biker with facial tattoos stepped off his bike and sauntered up to the front porch, everyone quieted. “The Ravagers will never step a foot on Devil Daddies’ turf. Even they aren’t that stupid.”
“Yeah! That’s right, Diablo,” one of the bikers supported him.
“Thanks, Lucien,” Street said quietly. “I’ll vouch for Rosa.”
“Got it. Let’s ride. The neighbors will have started debating if they should notify the cops,” the man called Diablo and Lucien said.
Rosa didn’t have time to be confused. Street took the duffel from her hand and asked, “Got anything inside you need?”
“No. I’ll close the doors and turn off the lights.” She didn’t want to trust him, but the chance to hunker down somewhere safe with this man who somehow felt right was irresistible. She crossed her fingers, hoping she wasn’t making a dangerous move.
“I’ll get the barn door after driving my bike out. I’ll pick you up here in a minute. We have time for you to potty if you’d like to go.”
Before she could answer, he’d turned and jogged toward the barn.
Rosa raced inside. Suddenly, she needed to pee.
Quickly, she took care of that and washed her hands, then dried them on her jeans as she checked for lights that were on.
Staring at the block of knives, Rosa debated grabbing one and forced herself away.
She didn’t know why but Street didn’t scare her at all.
She left the back door unlocked. Eddie said that was how everyone in the country grew up.
If you knew someone well enough to come to the back door, you were welcome to enter.
She pulled the front door closed and twisted the handle to make sure the lock was secure before heading down the stairs toward Street on his bike.
He held out a helmet for her. When she hesitated, suspecting he was offering his own, he simply slid it over her tangled hair and fastened the chin strap.
“Tuck in your shirt and let Inky ride next to your skin. Wildcats are notorious for panicking on bikes,” Street said.
“Are you okay to drive?” she asked as she followed his instructions, thankful he’d come up with a plan to keep Inky close. “I could…”
Street interrupted, “I’m good. Climb on.”
She grinned as she stepped over the bike. Somehow Rosa suspected she was the first person other than Street to operate his bike… and that he would need some time to get over needing a driver.