Chapter 3
Street drove in the middle of the pack as they returned to Inferno and the compound. Several times, someone let out a yip that carried through the wind blowing past them to signal that a bike had appeared. The Ravagers had spotted them once they hit the city limits.
The rival MC didn’t attempt to grab Rosa or Street.
They simply set out scouts to track them along their path.
Wraith led the Devil Daddies through a warren of side streets, losing the other group several times.
Street guessed he wasn’t trying to escape the observers completely.
Wraith was enjoying making them scramble.
When they turned a corner and spotted two Ravagers driving toward them, Rosa tightened her arms around Street’s waist. Hell, no.
They weren’t going to get their hands on his girl.
Relying on Wraith’s instinct to avoid the Ravagers, Street waited to signal she was safe until the Devil Daddies swerved through a fast-food parking lot to maintain their distance.
As soon as the Devil Daddies lost them again, Street wrapped his hand around her thigh and squeezed to reassure her.
Inside, he celebrated that she hadn’t panicked but had trusted him.
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Little girl,” Street called over his shoulder. She nodded against him before pressing her helmet firmly to his spine. He suspected she’d hidden her face, unable to look. Street tried to ignore the feel of her petite curves glued to his back.
Her baggy clothing had hidden her small, high breasts and whipcord muscles.
He guessed she’d worked hard for a long time to survive, taking jobs that required endurance and physical labor.
She hadn’t served as a bartender at the dive bar where she’d warned him but had lugged immense buckets of ice and cases of alcohol to restock the bar.
Street hated that she’d had a tough life. What was her backstory?
Razor caught his eye. The MC’s doctor was concerned by her withdrawn posture. Street gave him an upward nod to let the doctor know she was fine. Razor acknowledged him with a thumbs-up. Street appreciated him more than ever before for being worried about his Little.
His Little. Had he already claimed her before he actually heard her confirm she was Little? Certainty flooded his mind. She was Little. He didn’t have any doubts. Rosa was tough and defensive. Convincing her to let her guard down would require time and consistency.
The group turned and drove past Inferno. Those on the front porch waiting to get in and the MC members milling around to supervise waved and hollered as their bikes rolled past. The roar of approval washed over him.
Rosa’s helmet moved from the center of his back. Street guessed she was peeking out. “I’m their favorite,” he quipped.
Those around them laughed. “In your dreams, Street. All those ladies are in love with me,” Toxin said.
“They’re infatuated with Diablo. Everyone wants the leader,” Scythe suggested. “He’s the baddest biker of the bunch.”
Diablo gunned his engine, underlining that statement before joining the banter. “Don’t you forget it.”
Street chuckled. Lucien wasn’t amused or light-hearted often.
Street had recently moved up from a prospect to a full member of the Devil Daddies MC.
He might be relatively new to the group, but he’d shown up consistently and pursued greater involvement and responsibilities with every group interaction.
The others treated him as if he’d hung with them for years.
Present for so many of the skirmishes that had united his MC brothers with their Littles, Street had hoped to be as lucky. As soon as he’d figured out all the members were Daddies, Street understood what had drawn him to the group. They were wired just like he was.
Feeling Rosa squirm as their speed decreased, Street squeezed Rosa’s leg. “We’re almost there.” He tried to ignore the allure of her body moving against his. He definitely didn’t want to step off his bike with an obvious erection.
“You’re okay with me staying with you?” she asked quietly when they stopped to wait their turn to go through the gate into the compound. Pirate waved his brothers through and welcomed them home.
“You can live here as long as you’d like,” he answered truthfully, hoping he could convince her to remain with him way past the point where she was safe again.
“Thanks,” she whispered.
When he rolled up to Pirate, Street said, “This is Rosa. She’ll be with me for a while.”
“ID?” Pirate asked, and Rosa stiffened behind him.
“Unavailable,” Street answered for her.
“Last name?” Pirate asked.
“Why do you need to know?” Rosa challenged him.
“Because that’s my job as the ruler of the guard shack,” Pirate told her.
“He’s joking, Rosa. Pirate has a wicked sense of humor. Give him your name for his list of approved visitors and let him take a picture. He’s not going to call the cops on you or inform anyone where you are,” Street reassured her.
“Serrano.”
“Got it.” Pirate snapped a quick photo and stepped out of the way. His gaze fixed on Street’s, who easily read the question in the guard’s mind. Who was she, and why had she hesitated to identify herself? They both suspected there was a story there.
Pirate would work on solving the mystery as soon as everyone cleared the gate.
Street would check in with him later. He didn’t need to know for himself.
Street already trusted Rosa. If she’d meant to hurt him, she never would have risked everything to help him get away.
The possibility of helping Rosa was most important to him.
Street drove through the quiet cabins to the second to last on the right.
Each full member of the MC had the ability to personalize the blueprint of a cabin if they wanted to live in the compound.
Street had selected one of the prefabricated cabins that visitors could stay in while he built the cabin plan he’d tweaked.
The outer shell was already finished, and Street had started finalizing the interior with the help of several MC members who enjoyed working with their hands.
He chuckled inside as he imagined how his family would have reacted to seeing him smooth the concrete foundation and frame the cabin.
They’d endured his military service, viewing it as a path to a political or other leadership position.
But they’d stopped talking to him when he’d “lost his mind,” or as Street viewed it, wised up and escaped from the rat race.
When Street had joined the Devil Daddies MC, they’d severed ties with him, whispering “PTSD” to their friends and neighbors.
The only trauma Steele dealt with was having lost a few years to a concrete jungle.
He pulled into the driveway of the guest cabin equipped by the MC. The place was great, but he was looking forward to his own. Rosa got off and stepped away as he triggered the garage door opener. Street maneuvered the bike around to back the motorcycle inside.
Once on his feet, he walked toward Rosa and removed the helmet for her. This one was too big. He’d need to get her protective headgear that fit.
“He’s going to find out I have a warrant out against me,” Rosa told him. Her expression was guarded.
Her trust in sharing this with him rocked Street. He suspected she confided in very few people, if any. “Okay. Are you going to hurt anyone here in the compound?” Street asked.
“What? No!” Rosa bristled at the suggestion.
“Okay. Then we’re good. Come on in.”
“You don’t want me to leave?”
“No. Are you hungry?” Street asked, watching her face. A quick flash of relief played over her features before she wiped the expression away. He hated that Rosa had expected him to think the worst of her and kick her out.
“I’m okay.”
“Cool. Come on in.” Street picked up her duffle and carried the light bag to the door. He held it open for her, noticing that Rosa hugged Inky, who still lurked inside her shirt.
The door from the garage connected into the kitchen. From there, you could see out the back to a screened-in porch and an average-sized lawn. He led the way out of the kitchen to the family room. “Let me show you where you can sleep.”
She followed him down the hall and into the guest bedroom. Inside, a princess bed with a canopy of purple netting cascading to the four corner posts filled the space. He set her duffel bag on the purple comforter.
“Wow. That’s quite a bed. Did you pick that out yourself?” she asked sarcastically.
“No. I’m staying here while I build my own cabin. I like it, though. My Little girl will have her choice of bed. I’d prefer she enjoy snoozing safely in a crib for naps, but this is sweet,” Street said.
“You’re not kidding, are you?”
“No. I’ve always known how I was wired differently. Meeting the Devil Daddies MC was a really great day. A group of men whose interests match mine and who live every moment to the fullest.”
Her face didn’t reveal her thoughts this time. She was good at guarding her emotions from others. He hated that—hated that she’d had to learn how to close herself down. Street hoped she’d open up sometime.
“Would you like to take a shower?”
“Are you saying I stink?”
“No. I’m offering you a chance to get clean. The guest bathroom is off the hallway. You should find what you need in there. I’m going to throw a load of clothes in the washer. Anything you’d like to add?”
There. A hint of relief on her face. Street hated that a simple offer of cleanliness chipped away at her reserve. “I could get you a T-shirt to wear like a dress while your things are in the machine.” Anything of his would be knee-length on her.
After a brief pause, she nodded. “Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”
Street walked diagonally across the hall to the main bedroom.
She trailed after him. He opened a partially filled drawer and rifled through his T-shirts until he found a black Devil Daddies shirt.
The thick, soft material erased any possibility of the makeshift outfit being see-through.
“How about this?” he said, holding the garment out for her.
“That will be a dress,” she said, smirking.
“Perfect. Use anything you want in the bathroom. Whatever you need, Rosa. You’ll find toothbrushes and toothpaste in the drawers, shampoo, conditioner, and soap in the shower.
Hell, there’s probably those ear-cleaner swabs stashed away somewhere.
If you find an item stocked in my house, feel free to use it.
Towels are under the sink and on the rack. ”
She glanced around his bedroom. He wasn’t a slob but not a neat freak either.
His closet door was open, displaying a pair of boots by his jeans that he’d kicked off after work last night.
The bed was made, but the comforter was carelessly tossed into place.
A stack of clean clothes sat on his dresser, waiting to be put away.
“I’ll go throw together some lunch for us. Are there any foods you can’t eat?”
“I don’t like green things,” she answered, wrinkling her nose.
“Allergic?”
“Only to the taste.”
“We’ll work on that. Take your time, Rosa,” Street said as he returned to the kitchen. “Bring your dirty clothes to the kitchen when you’re ready.”
“Thanks,” she said quietly.
“My pleasure, Little girl.” Small luxuries like clean clothes, personal supplies, and a hot shower had cracked the protective shell around her slightly.
He found himself wanting to meet the woman inside who could focus on living, instead of merely surviving.
Street made a vow to help Rosa bloom in his care.